“No, it doesn’t. She called it off because I’m not someone she can see a long-term future with.”
A breath hisses out of her. “She wouldn’t dare.”
“Why not? Are you going to pull the funding from her stepsister’s company? Make sure to release another psycho from prison, so they can run one of her family or friends over? How about Renni? You going to make sure she pays, too?”
“None of that will happen if Paige behaves. It’s only a year, Ryder.”
“Why do you have something named The Reed Trust?”
“I don’t know what you’re talk—.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me!”
She sighs. “All right. Yes. I have a trust for each major client. It makes it easier for me to keep track of what I’m doing for them. But I’ve never used it for anything that could come back and reflect poorly on you.”
“You’re such a piece of work. If I’d known what a barracuda you are, I would’ve never signed with you.” I take a take a deep breath, but the vise around my chest still tightens. “You have no respect for me or my personal life.”
“You have no personal life!” She slaps her hands together in irritation. “You are a fucking superstar!”
I sit back. Of course. That’s what all this is about—Mira wanting to ensure that I’m one hundred percent hers. Not in a romantic sense. She’s not minded that way, plus romance requires one to have a heart. But she can ensure I’m always alone, or surrounded only by people she approves of, so that I’ll always be on a path that leads me back to her.
My voice is quiet when I tell her, “Then I’ll stop being a fucking superstar.”
She snorts. “Don’t be an idiot. You can’t do that.”
“Sure I can. I don’t have to work to get by. I’ve got more money than I know what to do with.” I bare my teeth. “Oh, and Mira? You’re fired.”
Her chest shudders, and she purses her lips so tight, countless small lines form around them. “You’re drunk. Drink that water, go sober up, and when you’re thinking right again we’re going to pretend this talk never happened.” She turns and heads toward the door.
“No, we aren’t.” I look at the only agent I’ve ever had with anger and regret. Anger wins. “If you come near me, Paige or anybody either of us cares about ever again, I’m going to slap you with a restraining order so fast it’ll take your breath away. And then I’ll have fun watching you try to spin that to protect your image.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ryder
I sober up, and for the next four days stay at Elliot’s. I can’t go home. Knowing that Mira is behind Lauren’s drug use and Paige’s stepsister almost losing her baby… Fuck. I can’t forgive myself for not seeing it sooner.
I should’ve known. Mira has always been overly hands-on, sticking her nose into every aspect of my life. I chalked it up to her being really vested in my career. And I had no reason to think badly of her; after all, she was instrumental in my success. But when she burrowed deeper into my life instead of backing off, I should’ve at least suspected there was something unhealthy in her focus on me.
My lawyers are working to terminate our contract. I can’t even bear to talk to her. She’s been trying to contact me, but by blocking her calls I’m making my position clear. The attorneys are also untangling the mess Mira’s interference has created in Bethany’s life. Given their hourly rate, they should be able to purge Mira from our lives completely. I won’t accept anything less.
I start a new text to my chief publicist Christopher.
Announce to the press that Paige and I are separating on an amicable—
Damn it. I click the delete key until the text is all gone. I’ve been trying to make the announcement, but just haven’t been able to. I’m not exactly sure what I’m hoping for. Paige isn’t going to tell me she loves me, or that she’s perfectly fine with how my own fucking agent endangered Bethany or threatened Renni.
“You okay?” Elliot asks.
“Yes,” I say, but I don’t sound convincing…even to my own ears.
“I don’t mind if you want to move in, but you know that sooner or later Elizabeth is gonna march in here and drag you back to your mansion.”
He’s right. Elizabeth and Paige call at least five times a day. Each. Paige texts me too, but I haven’t read any of the messages. I don’t have the guts.
I go to the garage and hop into my Ferrari. I should find a hotel to stay at. Out of habit, I start to dial Paige to arrange a suite, then stop. She isn’t my assistant, and she probably doesn’t want to lift a finger on my behalf.