“I will go with them. Esteban doesn’t need my help.” Christos scrubs his hand through his hair. “You won’t have to worry about me being distracted.”
It’s enough to get Leandro to back off completely and return to the car and Bianca. Esteban kisses me one more time and strolls toward a second car waiting for him, leaving me, Talon and Christos with the SUV.
I stand awkwardly, watching Leandro drive Bianca away. She stares at me through the window, until they turn and head out of the private hangar.
Esteban sticks his hand out the window and waves at me before flipping off Christos and Talon. I meander away from them and slide into the front seat, resting my head back. It’s going to be a long drive with the two of them.
Talon hops behind the wheel and starts the engine. He rests his hand on my knee and offers me a small smile. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed you, Stacia. I worried about you the entire time, and nearly lost my shit when Esteban messaged me. He was reckless.”
“He couldn’t have expected that, Talon,” I say, glancing out the windshield.
“I’m going to cock-block him for the rest of time. You’re lucky that Leandro is excellent at his job.” Talon puts the car in drive and accelerates, keeping his voice low as if he doesn’t want to give Christos a reason to join in the conversation.
He doesn’t even try, putting on his sunglasses and ignoring the world. A part of me feels bad for him. I know I shouldn’t. I know he deserves what he gets, but he’s been trying his best. I’m just not sure I can ever truly forgive him or trust him.
“Can we just move on? I don’t want to have to constantly intercept.” I shift in my seat, staring at the side of Talon’s face.
“He was that good in bed?” he asks, smirking.
I open and close my mouth, my face burning again, surely as red as a tomato.
Christos smacks the back of Talon’s seat, clearly unable to ignore our conversation. “She doesn’t have to fucking answer that, Talon. I don’t know where you get off on thinking—”
The horn blares and Talon slams the brakes, screeching to a stop as another black SUV cuts us off at the gate. The back window rolls down, and I stare frozen at the bright flash of a camera.
“Shit, get down,” Talon growls, hitting the high beams.
But it’s too late. The photographer snaps a dozen more pictures, capturing me.
This is worse than the PI. This is the paparazzi, and my appearance will be splashed across every front page of every tabloid and website.
“He’s a dead man,” Christos says, pulling a gun from his holster. Rolling down the back window, he leans out and aims.
The paparazzi’s SUV jolts forward as they slam the accelerator, driving away.
“We have to follow him,” Christos says, smacking the back of Talon’s seat again.
“And do what? Kill him? You were out of line, Christos. We have an appearance to maintain. You could’ve made things worse.” Talon reaches back and grabs the front of Christos’s shirt. “Calm the fuck down and put in an alert to the Looking Glass. We need to stay on top of this.”
“We need to handle it ourselves,” Christos argues, pulling away from Talon.
I scream in frustration, shocking both of them into silence. “Just take me home. Take me home, so I can figure this out myself.”
Christos touches my shoulder. “Stacia—”
I yank away from him. “Now! Do it now!”
19
Culty
Beautiful:Someonetippedoffthe paps. They got a picture of me.
“Can you drop me off at the Looking Glass? Apparently, my parents want to meet there.” Bianca pulls my attention away from my phone, hooked to the dash.
I glance at her in my peripheral vision. The Looking Glass isn’t exactly what I’d consider a good meeting spot, especially in the afternoon.
“What kind of business do your parents do? The Looking Glass isn’t even open. Do they work with Mr. St. Germaine?” I stare at the road ahead of me, the line of cars slowing as a tour bus blocks the way, allowing people to snap pictures of a temporary movie set.