Starlet: A Dark Retelling - Cora Kenborn Page 0,59
this early on Monday morning. Full of shit and a host of other disgusting things as I leave the glass enclosed reception area of Silverline Studios and head toward the main executive building. The plastic keycard bites into my hand as I clench my fist, hesitating before opening the door.
“This is what you wanted,” I whisper. “So just suck it up and do it.”
Taking a deep breath, I open yet another glass door and step inside the building, making my way over to the elevator. As I wait for it to arrive, I can’t help but replay Dominic’s words from the party, moments before we reentered the ballroom.
“Everything in Hollywood is a smokescreen, rook. It’s not enough to just play the game. You have to own the board.”
“Own it. Right.” The elevator dings, and I step inside, inserting the keycard and counting the floors as they tick away toward the penthouse.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Seven. Eight…
Ding.
My stomach somersaults as the doors open, and I pull out the keycard, dropping it in my purse as I make my way toward the hard-faced secretary with the resting bitch face.
“Hi, I’m—”
“Alexandra Romanov,” she says, standing quickly. “Mr. Rosten is expecting you. Please come with me.”
I follow her to another door where she knocks, opening it a few inches before announcing, “Miss Romanov is here.” I don’t hear his reply, just a low murmur as she nods her head and swings the door open. “Go right in.” Just as I start to move past her, she stops me, her palm slicing out just under my chin. “I’ll need—”
“For fuck’s sake, Susan, let her in!”
Susan, or whatever her name is, slowly lowers her arm, her tight smile widening into something resembling the Cheshire Cat—if it had a baseball bat shoved up its ass. “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance, Miss Romanov. Silverline is lucky to have you.”
“Alexandra, please have a seat.” My attention is momentarily diverted as my gaze shifts to Greg Rosten, perched behind his desk like the lord of the manor. It sets me on edge, and when I hear the door close behind me, my nerves start to snap.
Own the board.
Forcing a smile, I make my way across the office and sink into the oversized chair on the other side of his desk. “I apologize for the delay. My schedule has been a bit hectic lately.”
“I saw the interviews. You handled yourself well, Alexandra. Just like a true Romanov. Your mother would be proud.”
I tilt my head. “Just my mother?”
“She was always the media darling,” he answers with a wink. “A people pleaser, if you will. Your father was more traditional. Set in his ways. Never liked the give and take of the business side of this industry.”
“Yes, well, be that as it may, I’m my own woman, Mr. Rosten. I may bear the Romanov name, but I’m not here to bask in my mother’s shadow. I plan to make my own mark.”
“Yes, you definitely are a woman.” His eyes slowly scan down my tailored jacket and past my sheer blouse and skirt to my legs.
I shift in my chair. “That’s not what I—”
“Alexandra.” He rises from his throne and strolls past the wall of windows, his hands locked behind his back. “I assume all contracts have been signed and made official.”
I nod. “This morning.”
“Excellent. Because projects under the Silverline name are of the utmost secrecy. It only takes one slip of the tongue for word to get out and then some hack studio turns out a third-rate copy six months before release, and we’re left with our dicks in our hands.”
“Of course.”
“So, you understand, per the terms of your contract, what happens in this office is never to be discussed outside of it.”
“You mean what’s said in this office.”
“Of course. My mistake.”
Sure, it is.
However, now is my chance. I need to test the waters and find out what his plans are for Dominic. He may have screwed me over once, but that doesn’t mean I want to see him ruined.
“Mr. Rosten—”
“Greg.”
“Right, Greg, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Dominic McCallum.”
He peers out over the movie studios, his jaw sawing from side to side. “What about him?”
“Well, there seemed to be animosity between you at the party on Friday.”
Chuckling, he glances back over his shoulder. “Animosity? Alexandra, the boy can’t spell animosity much less go head to head with a man such as myself.” He waves a dismissive hand. “He’s insignificant.”