Starlet: A Dark Retelling - Cora Kenborn Page 0,25

pot and watch it boil. And yes, I use words as weapons, but I’ve never been more honest than when I lock eyes with her and admit, “You could sell water to a drowning man.”

Her cheeks flush. “I thought you said I was uncooperative and argumentative?”

I wink. “Only to me.” When she scowls, I spread my palms on the table. “You heard that woman. The public wants your words. They need your words. Where you’ve been. What you’ve been doing. How you ended up in Chula-fucking-Vista for God’s sake.”

“You.”

“What?”

“You keep saying ‘you’ instead of Alexandra.”

“That’s because as of right now you are Alexandra. Forget Last First Kiss. This is the role of your life, Angel. Play it well enough and you’ll leave this world a legend.”

“After a lifetime of lies.” Angel’s face tightens, and I can’t explain it, but she just looks sad. Exhausted. As if she’s lost in the struggle of her own web.

I don’t know what makes me do it. Raw instinct? Lingering lust? Satan and his sick sense of humor? Whatever the reason, I reach across the table and grasp her hand. “Living a lifetime of lies is better than suffering one more day of your truth.”

“Says the man who hides his face behind a computer screen.”

I give her an irritated look. “Okay, cut the shit. If you don’t plan to cooperate, why agree to meet me today?”

She stares down at our still joined hands. “To ask you to let this go.”

“Are you insane?” I yell, a bit too loudly, because half of the tables turn around and give me a dirty look, which I return. Fuck ‘em. If they wanted silence they should’ve stayed at home. Jerking my hand away from Angel’s, I lean close. “There’s a million dollars on the line. You can’t seriously think I’m going to drop a goldmine like this just because you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” she asks, arching a brow.

“Like all you have to do is give me bedroom eyes, and I’ll fall at your feet. Maybe that tactic works for you most of the time, but I assure you, I’m not like most of the men you date.”

First, Angel’s jaw ticks, then her teeth grind together as if she’s sawing razors. But it’s her eyes that warn me of the impending explosion. The muted green darkens as the storm rolls in. An unforgiving, catastrophic, bitch of a storm intent on leveling anything in its path.

She raises her middle finger, the chair scraping across the concrete slab as she shoves it back. “Fuck you.” Without another word, she stomps off, finger still in the air, and disappears inside the main part of the café.

“Goddamn it!” Jerking my wallet out of my pants, I grab a handful of bills and throw them on the table before taking off after her. Angel couldn’t have had more than a thirty second head start, but I’ll give it to her, the girl is fast.

After all-but-running out the front door, I find her standing next to the passenger’s side of my rental car, with her back toward me. I smile knowing she has her arms crossed over her chest, cursing my name because she stomped her ass all the way out here only to realize I’m her ride home.

“You’re wrong,” she says quietly.

Taking a risk, I move closer until I’m a few inches behind her. “Angel…”

“I don’t date.” She spins around, her simmering gaze dipping from my eyes to my chest. “You were wrong about me back then, and you’re wrong about me now.”

What do I say to that? That I’m sorry? Because I’m not.

I’m sorry she got buried in the avalanche I created, but I’m not sorry I sent a sexual terrorist to jail. A man who preyed on the fresh-faced innocent girls who came to Hollywood with stars in their eyes. He deserved everything he got.

But Jade Saxton? She deserved better.

“Angel, I’m…” The word sorry is right there on my lips, but instead of saying it, I slam them against hers before either of us can react. Angel’s muffled protest is trapped between our mouths, and her palms fly to my chest as if to push me away. Only she doesn’t. Her fingers curl into my shirt, those sharp nails digging into my skin.

My control breaks. I take, sliding my tongue into her mouth without the slightest restraint. My hand dives into her hair, twisting it around my fingers. We kiss harder, ignoring the fact we’re in a public parking lot.