Chapter One
Breccan
Goddamnit. I stood, staring at the white wooden door that had just been slammed in my face, and cursed under my breath. I fucked this whole thing up royally, and I had no idea even where to begin to make it right.
I placed my hands on the door, leaning heavily on them. The pain in her eyes was almost too much to bear. I caused that. It was my fault. And fuck if that didn’t make me want to kick my own ass.
As much as I hated myself for the pain she was currently in, I needed to make her understand. I pushed back against the door and ran my hands through my hair. No. Now wasn’t the time. But fuck! I didn’t want to leave things like this.
Balling my hand into a fist as the anger bubbled up, I punched the wall, leaving a dent. Great, one more thing I screwed up. I turned away, making a mental note to send a check to management for the damage and headed back down the steps. I’d give Cora space. Time to cool down while I tried to formulate a game plan, something to straighten out the cluster fuck I seemed to have developed.
I’d give her twenty-four hours, and then I’d come back. Tell her everything. Confess every detail.
No matter what it cost me.
She was worth it.
As I drove back to my beach house in my Tesla, an extremely rare southern California rainstorm hit —thanks to an impending El Nino. It ground traffic to a halt and left me sitting in my car with nothing to do but think. I should have explained everything from the beginning. Fuck Miranda and her secrets. Fuck the consequences. I should never have went along with it. Maybe if I hadn’t…
It took me over an hour to finally get home. When I finally pulled up to my house, I noticed an all too familiar black BMW idling in my driveway. Shit. It was Miranda. That bitch didn’t know how to take no for an answer. I parked in Cora’s spot and turned my car off; dreading the shit show that was about to go down. With Miranda, it was always a shit show. Taking a deep breath, I stepped outside and sprinted to my door.
I ignored her as she jumped out of her car and ran toward me, but she wouldn’t be deterred.
“Breccan! Please. We need to talk about this,” Miranda screamed. Standing in the middle of the street as rain pelted her, the strands of her hair now sticking to her face.
“For fuck’s sake, Miranda. Go home. You know better than anyone not to do this in public.” I was certain the rain was the only thing currently keeping the paparazzi from camping out. But, I wouldn’t put it past a few hardcore nutbags to be up in a tree, right now capturing this all. Especially after yesterday.
God I hated my job sometimes.
“No, not until we talk about this.” Rain poured over her, plastering her hair and clothes to her frail body. I had a half second of guilt wash over me seeing her so desperate and sad, but only until I remembered what a manipulator she was, and that undoubtedly this too was an act.
“Well then you’re shit out of luck because I’m done talking, listening, or doing any other thing that involves you.” My jaw ticked as I shook, trying to reign in my boiling anger at the nerve of her. “Go the fuck home, Miranda.”
She ran to me and grabbed at my arm, clinging to me, eyes wide and whispering, “You can’t leave me, Breccan. Not now. We have an agreement.”
Rage coursed through me. “What we have is not an agreement, Miranda,” I growled. “It’s fucking blackmail.”
“I’m serious, Breccan, If I find out that you—”
I wheeled around, trying my best to keep my voice low, but failing, as everything I’d wanted to say for weeks finally spewed out. “Don’t you think you’ve threatened me enough? Did you really think that blackmailing me into dating you would win me back? After what you did? You’re fucking insane, you know that?” I pulled her closer, whispering in her ear. “The producers and
Leonardo Inghilleri, Micah Solomon, Horst Schulze