Starlet: A Dark Retelling - Cora Kenborn Page 0,63

careful around him.”

“Why? From everything I’ve read, he’s a really nice guy.”

Holding her stare, I force a tight smile. “You of all people should know not to believe everything you read.”

We stand there in awkward silence, scripts in hand and tension pinging back and forth between us like a tennis ball. Finally, I can’t stand it anymore. “What’s the scene?”

Thankful for the distraction, Angel flips through her script while beckoning me over. With no other choice, I stand by her side, still seething. “Sebastian is the CEO of a tech empire, and Isabella is his new personal assistant. She’s been called to work late hours at his penthouse.”

I snort. “Because that happens in real life.”

“Are you going to make jokes the whole time?”

“Sorry, continue.”

“Forget it, just turn to page eight-seven and read the line.”

The sooner we do this, the sooner I can go home and sort out whatever the hell has gotten into me. Clearing my throat, I assume my best boss voice. “What do you want, Isabella?”

Angel turns into somebody else right in front of me. Those fiery green eyes suddenly look innocent and doe-like, her body seems skittish, and her voice even sounds different. “Mr. Fox, it’s almost midnight, I thought—”

“You thought what? That this job adheres to a clock? You’re done when I say you’re done, Miss Prescott.”

“Yes, sir,” she whispers.

“Come here.” Angel shuffles toward me, somehow making her knees wobble. “Do I scare you, Isabella?”

“Yes.”

I catch her chin between my thumb and index finger. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir. You frighten me more than anyone I’ve ever known.” Her fingers tremble as they ghost along my wrist.

“Fear is only another level of desire, Miss Prescott. Some thrive under its guidance, even crave it.”

Her chest heaves as the tip of her tongue presses against her top lip. “You didn’t hire me to be your assistant, did you?”

“Of course I did. I just didn’t list every”—closing the distance, I kiss the corner of her mouth—“single”—then the other corner—“requirement.” Growling the last syllable, I hover my lips over hers in a silent dare.

Because I’m not acting anymore. I’m not Sebastian Fox.

I’m Dominic McCallum, and I’m fucking tired of waiting.

I don’t know who breaks first. All I know is we’re a frantic tangle of hands, lips, tongues, and teeth. I pour all my frustrations, all my guilt, and all this damn jealousy into kissing her. Her hands are in my hair, digging and pulling, which is fine because mine are clawing at the bottom of her dress like it’s the wrapping on a Christmas present.

I’m not stopping this time. I need to be inside her.

Gripping her hips, I lift her up and set her on top of the piano. She moans, pulling me closer as I fight that damn dress. Finally, I get it over her hips, and she breaks the kiss.

“Wait, stop.”

I groan, squeezing her thigh so hard I know it’ll leave bruises. “You want me, rook. I know you do. And I’ve never wanted a woman more than you.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not denying it, but there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Fine,” I growl into her neck. “You can talk while I fuck you.” I don’t wait for approval before grabbing the thin string on either side of her hips. “Lift up, or I’ll rip these off too.”

Angel shudders but doesn’t move. “It’s your hand, Dominic. Your tattoo.”

Fuck it. I warned her. A sharp jerk of my wrist, and her panties magically fall off. With no further obstruction, I lick my way up the inside of her thigh. “What about it?”

“There was a man… Oh God…” She throws her head back as my tongue hits its target. “At the party who had the same one.”

I stand, her words extinguishing every bit of fire in me. “Did he touch you?”

“No. I mean yeah, but only because I tripped on my skirt. He saved me from falling.”

“What did he say?” I’m barely holding it together. “I need the exact words.”

“Not much. He kept calling everything fascinating, especially my existence. I asked him why, and he started rambling about the murders and how six people were killed here but I was thriving. Then he asked me why a team of killers would spare a young girl only to risk having her rat them out to the cops.”

I want to hit something. “Is that all?”

“No. Before he left, he said something about questioning how a little girl could escape a crime scene without being seen then go from Bel Air