Starlet: A Dark Retelling - Cora Kenborn Page 0,75
railing, rolling the nearly empty bottle between my palms. “How did filming go today?”
Her shoulders shrug lightly against me. “Same as always. Rosten tried to do everyone’s job and made a bunch of homophobic remarks. By the fourth one, a production assistant had to escort Brent off the set.”
My grip tightens around the bottle. For three weeks, I’ve bit my tongue. A studio executive’s purpose is to fund projects. They make sure everything runs smoothly then get the hell out.
Not Greg Rosten. Not this project.
According to Angel, he’s on set every day, pushing people around and playing director, especially during sex scenes. No surprise, I was banned from the set before filming even started. It’s probably for the best. If I saw him get off on seeing her naked, I’d end up in jail.
Which is why I have an unlikely ally in Braddock’s boyfriend. He has been on set every day, keeping an eye on things and reporting back to me. The guy hates Rosten almost as much as I do and promised to look after Angel.
He’s a good guy, and his boyfriend’s becoming tolerable, too.
Okay, fine. Braddock isn’t so bad. I kind of like him now. Since coming out, his popularity has tripled, if that’s even possible.
Hollywood, man. Fickle as fuck, but they’ll take up a cause like a bad habit.
“Did he at least get one good swing in?”
“Unfortunately, not. Which I guess is a good thing. He doesn’t have a former actress-slash-cocktail waitress to conspire with to pay off the debt.” Tipping her chin up, she bumps her hip against my leg and grins.
I wince. Not just because two weeks ago, I came clean to Angel about the lawsuit, which—fuck you Milly—she already knew about, but because the more time we spend together, the harder this weight presses on my chest.
I wish I looked at her the same now. I wish I looked at her and saw my Angel, but I don’t. I don’t think I ever will again. All I see is penance.
I wish I could let her go, but I’m in too deep to turn back now. Not only for my own selfish reasons, but for her protection. At the least, I owe it to her to make sure her world doesn’t become as tainted as mine.
Cupping her cheek, I trace those full lips with my thumb. As if commanded, they part and her eyes flutter closed. Lowering my hand, I grit my teeth and turn away. With a groan, I set the beer bottle on a side table and drop onto the chaise lounge.
Angel watches me, her fingers twisting by her side before taking a few tentative steps. “Hey, are you all right?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’ve just seemed off lately.” She looks down, her cheeks flushing blood red. “If this is about what happened last night, I—”
“It’s not.”
Angel flinches at my tone. Admittedly, it’s sharper than I intended, but I’m in no mood for this conversation. Things are fucked up enough without analyzing why my girlfriend flipped out in the middle of sex, crawled into a corner, and cried for two hours.
“I don’t know what happened. It wasn’t you. It’s me. The dreams are getting worse and more real.” Hugging her arms around her chest, she whispers, “Sometimes, I don’t know if I’m even dreaming anymore.”
I stiffen, blood roaring in my ears as previous misfired connections start lining up. I want her to stop talking. I don’t want to know anymore. Whoever said ignorance is bliss was a smart motherfucker. Knowledge only makes a man choose between right and wrong. The shitty thing is that both end with someone losing everything.
Before I can stop her, Angel swings her leg over the chaise lounge and straddles me. I try to turn away, but she captures my face between her hands, forcing me to look at her. “Dominic, I want to be with you, but what you said—”
“Look, I get it,” I say, dislodging her hold. “You don’t have to explain.”
“No, I do,” she argues, her protests coming out in frantic rasps as she fists my shirt. “Because you’re all I have. And if I don’t talk about it and get it out, then it stays inside. It builds and builds and soon it’ll be so crowded there won’t be room for me anymore.”
It shouldn’t make sense, but it does. The anger that has been building inside me all day stills, and I tuck her hair behind her ear. “Tell me.”