Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
He offers me a half-lidded, impossible-to-read stare, a beat passing before he says, “I’ll see what I can do.”
I nod again and enter the room, shutting the door behind me and just leaning on it for a moment that turns into a few. I can’t believe where we’ve landed and what all of this has become. My gaze catches on the flowers. I never even thanked Damion. I reach into my pocket and pull out the card and read the typed note, ice rippling down my spine: What I give, I can take away. There’s no signature, but I know who sent the flowers. It was Damion’s father.
Chapter twenty-nine
I start pacing, my mind a jumbled mess as I struggle to process the implications of the flowers and the note, my heart beating uncomfortably fast through my mental freakout. What is this? What is going on? I halt and read the typed message again: What I give, I can take away.
What the heck does that even mean?
My hand swipes at a wayward lock of brown hair and I shove it behind my ear. I press my fingers to my forehead and then drop them. Is he talking about Damion? Or maybe the money he gave my father? My show? My show would be the least of my worries if it weren’t for the fact that there are many jobs attached to its production. Losing it doesn’t just impact me. It impacts them. It would impact so many people, including my parents, which would be a way he could take away in so many ways.
I fall back into my chair in front of my dressing table and think about what I learned at lunch. Damion’s father took my mother to the attorney’s office today, knowing Damion would find out. The timing cannot be a coincidence. That warning Damion spoke of wasn’t just for Damion about me. It was for me. He must be threatening my parents. I throw the piece of paper, and as if taunting me, all it does is catch in the air and fall toward the ground right in front of me. I can’t make it, or the content of the note, go away.
Launching myself to my feet again, I have no idea what to do with my nervous energy or how to handle this. I know Damion, and if I tell him about his father’s threat, he’s going to be beyond furious, and I cannot sit in a soundproof booth without going crazy. My mind goes to Adam, just outside my dressing room door, and I consider telling him what I’ve discovered, but he works for Damion; he’ll tell him. I know he’ll tell him. I glance at my watch, and my stress ratchets up ten levels. I have five minutes until my call time. I have to make a decision.
No matter how bad this gets, I can’t not tell Damion. He’d never forgive me for holding this back, and that’s a trust issue I don’t think we need between us.
I grab my phone from the dressing table and punch in his number. The call lands directly to voicemail, and I’m ridiculously relieved yet fretful. I have no time, and I hurry to the door and open it. Adam is immediately standing in front of me. “Ready?”
“No. Come inside. It’s urgent. And we need privacy.”
His expression is stone. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Oh my God, Damion and his threats.” I throw my hands up in the air. “I know you aren’t after my body, Adam. I have minutes to get to my call time. Come in now.” I back up, and, thankfully, he steps inside.
“Shut the door,” I order, bending down to pick up the note, and when we’re sealed inside alone, I hand it to him. “Look at this.”
His brows dip, but he accepts the piece of paper and reads, his gaze shooting to mine. “What is this?”
“This morning, I received flowers. I thought they were from Damion. I was late and didn’t look at the card until now.” I motion to the note he holds. “That’s not from Damion.”
His gaze darts to mine and narrows. “Who is this from?”
“His father,” I say, hugging myself. “I know it’s from his father.”
He shoots a photo of the note and hands it back to me. I wave it off, wanting nothing to do with the threat I cannot truly escape, but at least I don’t have to fretfully read it over and over if it’s with him, not me. “What did he give you that he’s threatening to take away?” he asks.
I tunnel my fingers through my hair in utter frustration. “I’ve been trying to figure that out. Damion? My show? He doesn’t have the direct power to cancel us, but he bribes everyone. He can get to anyone, it seems. Or maybe it’s the money my father borrowed? Or even my mother? I don’t know; I really don’t, but none of these possibilities are good for me and those around me. They hurt someone other than myself—all of them—which means I can’t just blow this off. And I think it’s important to note that I found the flowers in my dressing room right about the time he paraded my mother in front of Damion’s lawyer.”