risk my ass for an amateur who can’t be bothered to do basic research.
Naomi jumps to her feet, and I slowly push my chair back, taking my eyes off her only long enough to toss Milly a smirk over my shoulder. But it’s all the time she needs. Before I see it coming, she reels her hand back and slaps me across my face.
I know she wants a reaction, but I just don’t have it in me. If taking her shame out on me makes her feel less like a fucking idiot, then whatever. It’s not like anyone’s watching. This is California. Until she pulls out a gun and shoots me in the face, nobody gives a shit.
“You don’t play fair,” she hisses.
I wiggle my jaw, a smug grin tugging my lips. “Never have. If you make a bet, sweetheart, you’d better have a winning hand.” Without another word, I storm toward the bar.
Time is running out. I have to find a suitable heiress before someone beats me to it. It’s a long shot, but I didn’t go from digging in dumpsters for my next meal to running the most successful tabloid news site in the industry by giving up at the first sign of defeat.
Someone once told me fate always finds a way.
Fuck that.
I don’t believe in fate. I believe in beginnings and endings. What happens in between depends on how far you’re willing to go to get it.
Chapter Three
Dominic
Draining what’s left in my glass, I scrape my palm across my forehead and glare. “Don’t say it.”
Milly glances up from examining her nails. After giving me the silent treatment for the last fifteen minutes, she’s primed and ready for battle. Don’t let those red-framed glasses fool you. Behind them lies a pint-sized warrior.
But I refuse to apologize for anything. Not for being here. Not for confronting Naomi Grecco. Especially not for sticking around and drinking her pimp’s booze after they both tore out of here like their asses were on fire. Neither has bothered to come back, so I haven’t bothered to care. Besides, I have both of them by the balls. They won’t say shit to me unless they’re into public humiliation.
Milly raises an eyebrow. “Don’t say what?”
My fingers tighten around my empty glass. “I told you so.”
A ghost of a smirk curves around her wine glass. “Wouldn’t dream of it, boss.” Taking a sip, she sets it on the bar before returning her focus to her nails. “Besides, saying you’re a giant douchebag for making me spend the night in a rent-by-the-hour motel for a story you knew was bogus would be unprofessional.”
“Glad we’re on the same page.”
“That was something, though,” she says, and I wonder how many cocktail peanuts I’d have to shove in her mouth to shut her up. “Haven’t seen you get your clock cleaned like that in a while.”
I don’t need this. Letting out a low grunt, I signal to the purple-haired bartender for another round. “Milly, do me a favor and don’t talk to me again until I see four of you.”
Fucking women.
She rolls her eyes. “I just don’t get why you’re wasting time peddling your ass up and down the California coast, chasing one dead end after another.”
Because I’m a bitter man who acts first, thinks second, and never apologizes.
“Tragedy breeds opportunists.” I shake my head at the weight of my statement. “People will sell their souls for a buck these days.”
That’s putting it mildly. This business is an endless parade of peacocks and vultures, some preening their feathers while others pick at the carcasses of those who get in their way.
Welcome to Hollywood. Land of cannibals.
“The Romanov Estate should’ve never publicized that reward.” Scrubbing a hand down my face, I add, “They won’t find what they’re looking for. All they’re doing is dangling a million-dollar carrot in front of a pack of wolves.”
Wolves like me.
“Maybe you’re wrong.”
I tilt my chin over my shoulder. “I’m sorry?”
“Even the great Dominic McCallum can’t always be right,” she says, raking a hand through her short brown hair. “It’s not like anything you do lately makes sense.”
First of all, I don’t have to make sense when I’m trying to save our asses. Secondly, I’m not wrong, and I hate being questioned, but I’m not going to fight over it. She’s pissed and rightfully so. She’s one more missed paycheck away from the unemployment line.
Milly is loyal to a fault, but loyalty doesn’t pay the bills.