His parents and their damn prenup. “I’ll pay her then. Just sign it.”
Salazar threw his glass. Dane didn’t even flinch. The intricately designed crystal sailed by his head, missing him by a couple of inches at the most, and shattered against the wall. “Shut the hell up!”
“If you don’t want to sign it, then fight. She’s out there, happy, carefree…and look at you.” Dane curled his lip. “Go screw a pretty young thing or two. They’re a dime a dozen in the city. That’ll cheer you up. It always did.”
“How dare you.” Salazar’s face turned bloodless. His cheeks quivered slightly as he glared at his oldest.
The sight of Salazar being laid so low tightened Dane’s chest, but he couldn’t deny it also tasted like the finest champagne. If Dane had been a better man, he would’ve walked away at this point, but he couldn’t help himself.
“Upset that you can’t use your pawns anymore?” he asked softly.
“What?”
“I know we’ve just been minor pieces in your sick game with Mom.” Dane tilted his head. “But now your pawns are all grown up, and the other side doesn’t want to play anymore. What are you going to do to continue the game?”
Salazar’s mouth parted, his eyes wide.
Dane almost laughed at his father’s utter shock. Did he think Dane was too dumb to figure it out? He’d known it since forever… since the time Ceinlys had put the best clothes on him so he’d “look good for Daddy,” and Salazar had smiled down at him as his gaze slid away from Dane’s and crashed into hers.
“Don’t make me come out here again,” Dane said. “And clean yourself up for Mark’s wedding. You don’t want to embarrass yourself, do you?”
Then he turned, his movements precise, and left his father spluttering.
* * *
The tune from Danse macabre by Saint-Saëns blaring from her earphones, Sophia dragged her lone suitcase up the winding road to the Pryce mansion. Her apricot-colored toy poodle Roco trotted in front of her, tail wagging in delight at finally being off the bus. Sweat beaded on her hairline, and her hip and knees hurt from walking the long distance. But she gritted her teeth and kept on moving.
Thankfully the gardener had seen her at the gates and let her through when she’d said she was there to see Mr. Pryce. She’d always hated the fact that she was small and younger-looking than her age, but right now, she was grateful those two attributes had gotten her past the first hurdle in seeing Salazar Pryce.
He had to at least hear her out.
Finally. She reached the door and rang the bell once. She pulled out the earphones with sweat-dampened hands, then swallowed a curse as she almost dropped them before shoving them into her purse.
Desperation and foreboding curdled in her belly like old milk. Despite Betsy’s reassurance via text that Salazar would help, Sophia was fairly certain she’d wasted her last fifty bucks on the bus trip to L.A. She didn’t know the man, and he wasn’t close to her family. He hadn’t even bothered to come to her father’s funeral. Not surprising since her mother had wrecked his sister Geraldine’s marriage.
If Sophia had any other choice, she wouldn’t be here. But she couldn’t go back to Seattle and risk running into George again. In retrospect, she should’ve called the cops even if he was her best friend’s older brother, but she hadn’t been thinking clearly. And now it was probably too late to call and file a formal complaint.
Besides, what would the police do except talk to George? There had been no witnesses, no real physical evidence, other than the injuries she’d inflicted. It would be his word against hers, and he had expensive lawyers, while she probably couldn’t get anyone to return a call.
And she knew how the game would be played. She’d seen how every innocent thing she’d said was scrutinized and blown out of proportion by fans and the media during her competitive years. She’d accepted it as the price of success, but this was different. If she called the cops, George’s lawyers would smear her with a whole new level of aggression. They would be getting paid to rip her apart.
It was probably better for her just to stay away from Seattle. She doubted he’d call the cops on her for hitting him since that’d only make them ask why she’d done it.
Her only regret was that she’d lost her best friend. She had no idea how to tell Libby the truth, and didn’t want to imagine how she’d react if she knew. Nobody wanted to believe they had a monster in the family.
Sophia inhaled, breathing deeply. She was a fighter—she always got back up. She could survive this, just as she’d survived the death of her dreams. She could survive anything.