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She studied me before taking a small bite of the flaky fish. “Go on,” Zoey said. She seemed more in control of her emotions.
“We will continue to be seen together,” I offered. I took a large bite of the fish and even though flavor exploded on my tongue, I barely tasted it. “I’ll extol your talents, beauty, et cetera, during paparazzi encounters. I’ll also mention you to Hollywood insiders. Sometimes my dad asks me to review coverage reports for scripts he’s on the fence about. I may be able to recommend you for parts. In short, I’ll gush about you at every opportunity.”
“What do you want in return?” Zoey’s posture was all businesswoman.
During the course of the evening, she’d shown a range of emotions. One moment she’d be stoic. The next she was vulnerable. She’d been acting like her life depended on it. And maybe it did.
Hollywood was a dog-eat-dog world. Zoey, who was cutthroat when it suited her, would fit right in.
“Two things,” I said. I leaned back in my chair. “First one is don’t talk to the press about Ciaran. Ever. Second one is to delete all the videos.”
“He’s your stepbrother, Matthias,” she enunciated like I was a simpleton. When I didn’t respond, she leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. “Fine. His name won’t come across my lips. However, the second stipulation may be difficult to accomplish.”
A flash of movement at the dining room’s door caught my notice. It was Miss Paulina, standing tall and proud in her perfectly starched uniform. Her pinched expression alerted me to the fact that whatever she needed my attention for, it was significant.
To Zoey, I said, “Excuse me a moment, please.” In a few short strides I was at Miss Paulina’s side. “What’s wrong, Miss Paulina?”
“I believe Mr. Galbraith is attempting to leave the premises.” Her words did not travel far enough for Zoey to overhear.
My eyebrows furrowed. “He’s not a prisoner, Miss Paulina.” I looked at my watch. It was barely eight. “He’s allowed to explore the area.”
“Young man, please allow me the wisdom to distinguish between a simple walkabout versus when a person packs their belongings to leave the estate.”
I racked my brain for anything that might have upset Ciaran and couldn’t come up with a single thing. Ciaran knew about all my skeletons.
“What happened?” I asked Miss Paulina.
“I am not in Mr. Galbraith’s confidence. I suggest you make your way to the guesthouse as soon as possible.”
“Thank you, Miss Paulina.”
Donning a facade of normalcy, I returned to Zoey. She was sitting serenely in her chair looking every bit the poised, accomplished actress—and professional blackmailer—that she was. I had a feeling she’d agree to my terms only because I’d painted her into a corner.
“Unfortunately, there’s a situation that requires my attention,” I started. “You don’t have to give me your answer tonight, Zoey. I’ll call you tomorrow. One of our transportation specialists will drive you home in a few moments.” I paused in the doorway. I wanted to leave Zoey with one final fact. “Just in case you need motivation while you think through your options,” I said while pointing at the corners of the room. Her gaze followed my instructions. “Vaulteneau has a state-of-the-art security system with cameras and microphones. Our entire conversation has been recorded.”
The thing about billionaires is that they wanted to stay billionaires. We had enemies left and right. The estate’s surveillance system was both a deterrent and a form of protection.
Zoey lips flattened, but I didn’t miss the way her eyes went as round as saucers.
Satisfied, I exited the main house, but my glee was short lived once I entered Ciaran’s bedroom.
45
CIARAN
Did you introduce my mom to Stefon? I texted Drew several moments after hanging up with my mom. Did you manufacture everything? What did you hope to gain? Why is everything in my life pointing arrows at you? Why are you fucking with my life?
I’d typed, deleted, and retyped those words a hundred times before actually sending them.
As I paced the balcony, the chilly ocean breeze cooled my skin, but I ignored it. I should go inside and grab a hoodie, but I deserved to feel cold. Franky had already departed for the night, and Matty and Zoey were having fish for dinner. I could smell the delicious aroma coming from the big house.
I stood there, alone, in an out-of-body experience, witnessing my own downfall.
As I waited for Drew’s response, I bit my fingernails down to the quick. I only stopped when I tasted the metallic tang of blood from torn cuticles.
My agony was further exacerbated when I saw that Drew started typing before the dots disappeared. He’d start typing again, then stop, then it would pick up again.
That went on for ages.
