Page 43 of Now Their Starlet

“This event is important to the Fletchers,” Gina mutters.

Ah, there it is.

“What event is it? You never actually mentioned,” I ask, bracing myself as Camille does the final tug on the corset.

“Some music event,” she says with a wave.

That has me stilling, and not just because I can barely breathe now.

Will Beck be there?

No, I doubt Gina would let me go to an event where he’d be. Even if she’s pandering to Jonathan Fletcher’s wishes, she would know that would be a bad idea.

I think she’s afraid of my connection to him. In her mind, meeting Beck was the start of this phase of “rebelliousness” that resulted in her pulling the trigger on this conservatorship.

I’m pulled from my thoughts when there’s a knock at the open door. Ezra stands there, in a designer suit that intentionally hangs off his frame. I’ve never understood why he likes to dress like he’s a kid rummaging through his father’s closet, especially since he’s already such a big guy. More power to him, I guess.

“Hey,” he says, his eyes darting warily to the others in the room.

My eyes flare wide when I catch sight of his face. He must’ve had his makeup done before this, because I can see the texture of concealer and foundation on his skin. But makeup isn’t perfect.

Are those bruises?

Camille eyes Ezra as she walks out with the makeup artist, but Ezra doesn’t spare her a second glance. That probably pisses her the hell off.

It’s just Gina and Stuart in the room, Gina muttering to Stuart in sharp whispers.

“Dude are those bruises?” I murmur as he steps closer to me.

“I’m fine,” Ezra mutters, his gaze still locked on Gina, a line of frustration etched between his brows, his knuckles white around his phone.

“Was it your Dad?”

Ezra lets out a quiet huff of laughter, finally dragging his gaze down to me.

“Nah. Don’t worry about it.”

“Ezra, good, you’re here. The van will leave in ten,” Gina says, offering him a single nod before leaving the room, her sour wine scent leaving a cloud of bitterness behind her.

Ezra’s gaze lingers on Stuart, who’s showing no sign of leaving us alone anytime soon.

“You gonna be babysitting us again, Stuart?” Ezra bites out, his voice harsh with frustration. It’s a tone I haven’t heard from him in the weeks he’s been stopping by my room, the one brief respite from the solitary confinement I’ve had. It’s so similar to the tone he used to take before, when the cracks in our relationship were starting to show.

It leaves me wary.

It seems like he’s grown so much since he finished rehab and started.

My gaze remains locked on his face, watching for familiar twitches or dilated pupils.

Nothing.

So what’s got Ezra this worked up?

“Yes,” Stuart nods, slipping his phone into his pocket and offering Ezra a nod.

“Great,” Ezra huffs.

The room fills with an awkward silence that has me nervously picking at my cuticles. Gina brought someone in to do my nails today, since the previous extensions were looking grown out. It’s a different style than I’m used to. The blocky square design makes my hands feel like they’re not even mine.