My eyes are so bloodshot from the sleepless nights I need the makeup people to work their finest magic the rest of the week. Every last bit of extra effort is worth it.

My baby's back, and we haven't lost a spare hour making up for all the sex we've missed. I fuck her late into the morning, catching a few hours of sleep in between the next round.

In my bed, in the shower, in front of the glass overlooking the balcony that's got a direct view of my brother's tower. Hell, even on the kitchen counter. I'd take her outside, too, if I didn't have to risk Hayds or his girl seeing us with the telescope I know he keeps at his penthouse for the skyline view. He'd give me shit forever.

At work, I'm shooting the scenes where the Senator's goons catch me off guard, throw a hood over my head, and push me into his private plane. Harkness leans over me, giving his best evil villain sneer as he says Bluhd's catch phrase. “You really should've taken the fucking bribe, Mr. Black. You could've walked away with a lot of loot, without risking anything. Now, you've lost it all: your fortune, your girl, and yes, your own life. Congratulations. This time tomorrow, you'll be the world's biggest missing person's case, and Allison will be a mere footnote next to your name. Enjoy your flight.” His boot lands in my ribs. If it wasn't for the stunt safety built-in, it would hurt.

I let out my best agonized scream, faking the pain. Harkness laughs, slamming the heavy metal door in my face.

All is silent until I hear Pierce bellow through his megaphone, calling us to wrap up. “Marvelous, gentleman. That's our third take today, and I think we've got our suspense. Let's call it a day before we shoot Luke's Houdini escape scene back in L.A. I want to allow plenty of time to pack our crap up and start saying our goodbyes to Chicago. We won't be back here unless there's a damned good reason to be.”

Everybody bursts into applause. I'd join them, if my hands weren't cuffed behind my back. There's laughter next to me; a low, distinguished chuckle from a man old enough to be my father.

Harkness opens the door, reaching in to help me out of my hood. He extends a hand before the production crew descends on us for clean up. “You're a Godsend, Aaron,” I tell him, as soon as I'm free.

“Just don't tell my agent, or she'll want an extra piece of my hide next time I'm up for negotiations.” He smiles. I walk with him off the set while the crew swarms in like bees on flowers.

“Don't know how you do it. If I last half as long as you in this biz, still doing films into my sixties, I'll sacrifice a chicken to the Hollywood gods.”

“My good man, you've got a longer career than me ahead. You have one distinct advantage – you're bringing passion. I'm sorry to say I lost my creative spark years ago. Now, it's all about the money. If I were half as rich as what I've heard about your family, I'd have retired ages ago. I'm sad to say ten acres in Beverly Hills and a summer home outside London don't pay for themselves.”

I laugh, surprised the veteran actor is letting me into so much of his world. “You're a hell of a talent, regardless. If you're just here for the money, you could've fooled me.”

“There are things far more important in this world than chasing the next dollars. Fame isn't worth much either.” He looks up, slowing with me when we're approaching our dressing rooms. “I've seen how you look at Ms. Plomb off set, if I may be frank.”

Frank? Is this guy for real? I'm not used to his old world manners. Smiling, I nod. “You may.”

“Coming from a man who made his mistakes when he was your age, please consider giving the girl a ring if it's as serious as it seems. These romances on the set have a terrible way of ending with a whimper over the slightest misunderstanding if there's nothing in place to bind them. If you want her for keeps, I suggest making your move.”

“Uh, thanks for the advice.” Whatever else I signed up for with this erotic thriller crap, I never thought I'd be getting input about my love life from a multiple Oscar winner. “If you ever need a lead on a new agent or any other help, I'm open. Just say the word.”

“Agents are a lot like regrets, I'm afraid. Once you're wed to a halfway competent one, they're usually there forever.” He smiles knowingly.

I smile back, pretending I know what he's talking about. My phone goes off in my pocket just then, and I grab it, wondering if it's Robbi calling about our plans tonight. She teased me yesterday evening about her trip to the lingerie store downtown. Two can play at surprises, though. My woman has no clue what I've got in store for her as soon as Pierce turns the lights out here tonight.

When I see Jim's name on my screen, I frown. “Speaking of agents...here's mine. It's been good talking, Aaron. Thanks for your wisdom.”

“Likewise.” Harkness retreats to his room with a parting smile and a wink.

Stepping into my own room, I kick the door shut and hold the phone up to my ear. “What's going on, Jim?”

“Five alarm fire! There's some lady who needs to talk to you, and she's more pissed than a bull in Red Square. I almost called security.”

“Shit, slow down. What lady?”

“Says her name's Ericka. At first, I thought she was an overzealous Frieze fan trying to chase down the man who's playing her dream boat. But she's after you, Luke Shaw. Told me she's hanging onto a mountain of dirt that's going on social media if you don't get in touch with her. I'm worried, my man. After we saw what happened with your brother, Hayden, when that crazy broad came after him, we really don't need a repeat. I've seen how this crap in the press works – the wrong hashtag at the right time could torpedo your career!”

Ericka Plomb? I'm thoroughly fucked, if that's the case. It has to be about Robin. I'm silent, unsure how to respond for the next few seconds.

“What do you want me to say?” he's still talking, panicked as ever. “I take it you know what she's talking about? Christ. Do we need a lawyer for this?”

“Take a couple breaths,” I say, maintaining control. It'll take more than dumb threats from Robbi's mom to rile me up. “I know this lady. She used to do business with my dad. I'll handle it. Let me talk to her. Did she leave a number?”

“Yeah, let me see...” He rattles it off, and I take the digits down on my contacts.

“Take care of this, Luke. Seriously. Cool her heels, or we're going to have problems. Anything falling through at this point due to bad press means they could even start cutting us out, clawing back money!”

Oh, the tragedy. I'm more worried about a wet blanket on the fire I've re-kindled with Robbi more than anything else. Not even this damned movie or my career matters when it's stacked against us.

“I'll talk it out with her, Jim. It's not as scary as it sounds, trust me.”

“I'm going to. And keep me updated, will ya?”

“Sure, sure. I'll let you know when our fire's out.” I end the call.

I'm pressing my fist against the wall, wondering if anyone will notice a fresh hole punched through it before they strip our rooms down and pack everything up for the trip to L.A.

Fuck the rage. There's no time.

I send a text to the number he gave me, telling her we need to talk.

Ericka sends a one word reply: WHEN?

I name the time and place. My room here at the studio, tomorrow morning, bright and early. Ideally before we do one last promo shoot for a couple magazines before the flight west. Early, before Robbi shows up, and has to wonder why I'm hanging out with her mom.

I'm in my car when the reply comes back, telling me we're on. My jaw tightens. There's too much at stake, but there's no mystery about what I have to do.

I think about what Harkness said an hour ago, give the girl a ring. That's the plan, and it's been in the back of my mind all week.

I still have the rock I meant to give her that day before the drama ripped her away from me. It's moved to a new box, but the ring itself hasn't changed since the day I first set my eyes on staking my claim forever.

It's in my pocket now. It's coming out the first night off we have when we're home. I don't care if I'm risking anything less than a resounding yes. I'm not waiting one more year, much less five, to have it on her finger.

Nothing's getting in the way of that. Not the past, not the present, and most definitely not her mom bringing daggers meant for my side.

I played it coy with Robbi the first night we fucked in this room, before I brought her to my sheets. Someday, I said, when she asked me if I was serious about the baby thing.

If only she knew someday means soon in my world. I can't stop hallucinating whenever we fuck, every time I stare into her eyes, pumping my fire into her. Can't.

It's my ring I see on her naked finger when she brushes the stubble on my cheek, her pale grey eyes melting into mine. It's my kid stretching her belly when she rides me, those sweet, suckable tits I intend to see bobbing every time she throws her head back, coming on my cock with a breathless moan.

It's our whole future I see rolled out like a red carpet, infinitely more meaningful and important than anything Hollywood can ever give us.

I'll find out what Ericka wants, and settle. Whatever happened before, she's not taking her away from me again.

* * *

Later, we're on the rooftop at the condo I'm renting, the essentials packed up for our return trip tomorrow. The Chicago darkness hangs around us like dense silk, the city's lights peaking through in pinhole clarity. A few rare stars hang above, so bright they shine through the light pollution.

“One more thing,” she says from the nook of my arm, turning her face to mine. “No more secrets, Luke. Never.”

Shit. Does the meeting tomorrow with her mother count?

Deep in my lying gut, I know it does.

But there's no salvaging us if I let Ericka turn it all to shit. If the outcome is what I expect, the icy understanding I'll give my everything to get, then Robbi doesn't need to know. There's no point in worrying her over what isn't coming down because I won't let it.

I answer her with my silent lips. I kiss her, harder than I intend. Her lips come into it, tasting me and the wine that's still on my lips, the bottle we've shared half-depleted. Must be the nerves I didn't know were there a minute ago, or the gravity tugging at my gut, hiding an elephant I have to face alone. “Now, let's see your surprise.”

Her face lights up. “Only if yours comes first.”

“Fine,” I say, rolling my eyes as I help her up. “Promise me you'll give it a chance, without freaking out.”

My serious glare shines straight through her. After several seconds, she cracks a smile, laughing. “Wow. It's going to be good, isn't it?”

“You have no idea.” Grabbing her hand, we walk to the elevator. Soon, we're back inside, and I'm leading her to the bedroom.

I wait for her gasp when I turn on the light. Predictable, but damn if it doesn't bring a smile to my face, and instant heat to my dick.

“Oh my God. We're dead if the studio finds out!” She turns to me, flattening her hands against my chest, wide eyed and searching.

“They're on loan, don't worry. I slipped the guy managing the props a couple hundred this afternoon. Told him I'd have them back tomorrow, safe and sound.” Tugging on her hand, I lead her toward the sweet display waiting on the bed. “You know this stuff's imported from France? Some freak who makes it custom, and earns plenty doing it, casting sex supplies in gold and platinum.”

I pick up the handcuffs. They're heavy, solid gold, and I've only seen them once in her little hands. “Ever been fucked like a million dollars? That's about how much you'll be worth, once it's on you.”

Robbi resists when I grab her, but it isn't serious. She's all smiles as I pinch the zipper on her back, slide it down, and push her dress to the floor. My cock jerks when I see what she's been hiding underneath it.

“Didn't know they made lingerie with targets.” Fuck, it's cheesy, but the red and orange color scheme focused around her nipples, her pussy, her ass turns me on like a candle. It's a WWII era aviator's icons, bright circular rings focused around her best parts on a black canvass.

“You're the one with the fly boy fantasies, always prowling around in this thing.” She tugs on my jacket. A growl slips out my mouth as I let it roll off my shoulders, smothering her lips with a kiss. “Whatever. You know you like it.”

“I do. Just not enough to keep it on for long.” I reach for the leather flogger, thumbing the diamonds set in the platinum handle. “On your knees, beautiful.”

Her ass gets a quick pat as she turns, stares up at me, and obeys. I don't have to ask her to get to work. Her hands go for my zipper, tug out my cock, and engulf me in her tongue.

Heaven. Who knew I'd find it in such lush, eager lips?

“Slow down,” I warn, when she shoves her little tongue underneath my swollen head, moaning when my pre-come pulses into her mouth. “The night's young, and we're going to savor it, little bird. Can't leave Chicago without making everything right.”

I'm serious. This was where it all began, years ago, the love and the tragedy between us. There's even a chance we'll settle here again, if California becomes too tedious one day. I'm not letting bad memories obstruct a fresh start. Making new ones, good ones, ensures they won't.

I control the flogger like a sorcerer testing his spell, dragging it along her throat, her soft shoulders, down the snowy space between her tits. Christ, those tits.

They wobble, calling to me, irresistible as the very first day I had them. She moans, pushing her sweet vibration across my cock, feeding the fire in my balls.

My free hand goes to her gold locks, twines them around my fingers, and pulls. She loves it. Her eyes show me how much when they roll back in her head, losing themselves in the same pleasure crawling up my cock.

She sucks harder. Faster.

My girl's grown up, learned a couple things about how to suck cock since I left her behind years ago. It makes me jealous I wasn't the one to teach her, but that ends now. Moving the flogger up her neck, stopping it under her chin, I fold it into her skin until she looks up from the pressure, her little hand fisting the base of my dick.

“Warm up's over. Get on the bed, and spread your legs. Don't move unless I say.” I watch her crawl away, breath rising. She's trying so hard not to show how turned on she is, and failing miserably.

The sleek blue blindfold is the first thing I grab so I can smile without breaking the mood. It's Egyptian cotton with enough stitches to make a sultan jealous. She purses her lips as I tighten it around her head, before moving to her legs.

Thank God the studio ordered extras. I use one pair of gold handcuffs to hook each foot to the posts, after I take down her target practice panties with my teeth, stopping to relish the slick spot she's left all over them.

“That fucking wet for me, and you didn't think I'd notice?” I tease her, bringing the flogger up her bare leg, loving how her thighs ripple. “Why didn't you tell me how much I turned you on?”

“I like surprises, sir. Especially when they're for you.”

Sir. It should make me laugh because I've heard her say it often as Ali. Instead, my cock throbs like a rocket fueling up, aching to fuck her like any bastard worthy of the title should.

“No more tonight, babe. You tell me when you're coming – or else.” I give her bare pussy a gentle whack with the leather implement in my hand.

She cries out, her sweet red lips going wide, moaning her surprise and delight. I'm wishing I had one of those blindfolds myself. Too much time watching her naked body bound up and writhing might be dangerous, like looking at the sun. Staring too long threatens to make me shoot off before I'm good and ready to put my seed in her again.

Talk about a tragedy. The fuck if we're having it.

I move over the bed, reach between her legs, and tease her swollen lips with two stiff fingers. “Luke, yes!” She rocks her hips into me.

I slow my strokes and study her. She wants it bad, but her body doesn't need it yet.

Patience is a virtue I can teach her. I circle my thumb around her clit a few more times before I pick myself up, walk over to the chair next to the little marble table in the corner, and pour myself a glass of wine.

“What was that?” she asks, lifting her head, straining because I've cut her lust short. “Luke?”

“We're taking a breather. Good time for another surprise while I take a load off.”

“Um, what? What the hell are you –“ She stops moving when she hears me get on my feet, twirling the glass of wine in my hand.

I smile, taking a good long sip. It's not just the high end bondage gear I've snatched from the studio that's sponsoring our surprises tonight. I reach into the small black bag next to my gear, and pull out the silver bullet I've chosen.

It took a long time to find one with just the right speed. Robbi's tits bob beautifully when I'm next to her, running the cool, smooth surface around her inner thighs.

“Put it in. Please,” she whines, sucking her lower lip with her teeth.

“Be careful what you wish for, babe. You don't know what it is I'm holding.” I stare into where her eyes should be through the blindfold, wishing I could see them. Too bad it's so much more fun leaving her in the dark.

She gasps much louder than she would with her eyes uncloaked when I turn the little bullet on, and push it deep inside her. The tiny remote fob attached to my key chain will do the rest. I walk back into the corner, taking another pull from my wine, watching her transformation.

Her skin goes red with pleasure in under a minute. Sweat drips off her, adrenaline distilled into sweet droplets. Every time she breathes, she says my name, hate and desire clashing on her lips. Every time I draw another breath, I smell her sweet cunt, spilling its scent into the room while it leaks cream all over the sheet underneath her.

“Okay, this isn't funny anymore! Turn it up, you bastard,” she says, her voice trembling a little more with every word. “Asshole! Please!”

“Hm. Not very respectful tonight, are we?” I stroke my chin, wondering if I should give her another few minutes before I drop the bomb. Nah, it'll be more fun to tell her sooner. “I'm afraid the way it's vibrating inside you now is as high as it goes. They don't call it a speeding tease for nothing, little bird. It's meant to give you a lift, not carry you all the way to the sun.”

She's squirming in her restraints. Her knees buckle, lips popping wide open, and I watch muscles ripple at random as the craving overtakes her.

It's not like a one way torture either. My cock won't stop hammering in my pants, pulsing so hard it hurts every time I remember I can end this now. Just walk over, rip that thing out of her, drop my pants, and push inside her.

But it's our last night in Chicago. We're here to make memories, damn it. And the human body is wired to find its most unforgettable release when it's been denied.

She's moaning. Turning over as far as she can in her cuffs. The sex fever I've lit near her womb with the little bullet must be insufferable.

Orgasm denial? Fuck, it's so much more. I've chiseled away a piece of her soul, holding it, while I feel my own burn away every brutal second I'm not inside her.

“Safe word!” she screams, as soon as I'm next to her, gently running my fingertips over her brow. “We're too kinky to have one, but I'm telling you, I've had it. No more, Lucus Shaw. I need you.”

There isn't a man on the planet who could say no. I reach between her legs, pull out the little bead, and listen to her latest gasp like wind rolling through my ears, smooth and seductive.

It has the desired effect.

I want to kiss. I want to touch. I want to fuck, and nothing's going to stop me. But first, I lift the remnants of my wine glass to her lips, helping tip her head while she swallows. “Good?”

“It's...Jesus. I've never tasted anything so delicious,” she says.

“Your senses are heightened. All of them. That's what this trick does, something I learned at an underground club in Portland a couple years back. Try my kiss next, babe.”

When our lips touch, there's always a delicious push and pull. Except this time, two seconds in, she comes back with a moan, sinking her teeth into my lip so hard it almost draws blood.

“Sorry!” she whimpers, shaking her head when I break the kiss and pull away. “I'm not sure what came over me. Too intense. I had to, Luke, or I thought I'd never get another chance. I'm not sure what you've done to me.”

“I do,” I say, slipping off my clothes, letting my eyes drink in her panting, desperate body one last time before I plunge in. Her whole face trembles when she feels the bed sink beneath my weight as I make my way between her legs. “Whatever you do, keep breathing, or I will have to smack you harder than I'd like. It's like a drug when you come the first time this way, Robbi, and there are side effects. Just keep breathing, baby. Even when I fuck an O so hard into you, you're thrown out of your body, don't stop. Remember who owns this now.”

My cock rubs against her pussy while I'm growling my words, steadily up and down, three long strokes before I push in. She screams when I take her. Senseless, raw lust given a voice. And I'm training it to sing each time my hips plow into her, stretching her tight cunt around my length, taunting something raw and primal deep within me.

“Luke!” My name is the only thing she can say. It's never sounded as sexy as it does tonight.

Fire churns in my balls. I realize this isn't the last time I'll have made her my willing slave. It's going to be like this on our honeymoon, and the night I decide to get her pregnant. I'll wind her up so fucking hard she snaps when her pussy takes my come, squeezes it out of my dick like it's the missing key to her survival.

It damned well might be. I don't know how the hell I ever lived without her mouth on mine, even when she's biting into me, matching my growls with her feminine thunder through the tango of our lips.

What happens there moves through the rest of our bodies, too. It's a horizontal dance, a fuck first invented sometime in the stone age, raw and real and unapologetic.

I don't feel sorry when her skin flushes so red it has to burn the first time I bring her over. Good thing the restraints are doing their job, or she'd pinch her legs so tight around my waist they'd probably break my hips.

Robbi comes with a force indistinguishable from the current burning through me. She comes rough, she comes crazy. She comes like a woman who's finally at peace.

I'm too busy slamming myself into her to smile, but damn if it isn't happening deep down inside.

Discomfort and deprivation work magic. They're pleasure's warped twin cousins, waiting to have their fun when a skilled man unchains them to frolic. They heal the worst kind of pain, and free love from hate.

Tonight, they're burying the bitterness of the last five years in the grave originally meant for our love.

I know why I'm fucking, even as the same sharp animal instinct I always feel when my balls burn rises up, and squeezes my throat.

I fuck to excavate.

I fuck to bury.

I fuck to make her mine, make her swoon, make her regret every bitter minute we're apart, knowing we're never going back to that dark place again.

I fuck because she'll wear my ring soon, the second best gift I'll ever give her after our first born.

Yes, I fuck because I want her to come like I promised, so hard I have to slow down and bring her another sweltering kiss just to make sure she doesn't die deep in the ecstasy.

I'll never let her go. I'll never stop. I'll never, ever quit until I've secured the forever that was always meant to be with this beautiful spitfire.

My hips pummel straight through her second O on my cock. It's even harder than the first. I fist her hair, pull her face to mine, and dig my teeth into her sweet lip until I see her chest starting to rise and fall again.

She's lost in the ecstasy. Mumbling, moaning, and incoherent. So driven over the edge some men wouldn't find it sexy, but fuck, I do.

I love this insanity because I made it. And I'm a psycho for our love, the destiny I feel written in our flesh.

My best friend, my former enemy, my woman, my little bird.

I can't hold back anymore. Snarling, I reach behind her head and rip off the blindfold, touching my forehead to hers when we lock eyes. “Babe, pinch this dick as tight as you can. I'm coming.”

“Oh, yes. Yes!” Her soft blue eyes roll when the realization sets in, deepening the scarlet flush on her cheeks. “Give it, Luke. Give it fucking all.”

I do. Grunting, fucking, crashing into her so frantically my hips nearly bruise, I let the fuse raging in my balls hit the charge.

“Fuck!”

Sweet fuck, help me. I'm coming harder than I ever have in my life when it boils out of me.

Balls pumping, electricity flowing through the base of my spine, hitting my brain in love-lust waves so intense I don't know if I've died and gone to heaven. Or maybe it's hell, with this fire, blazing jets pouring out of me, into her steaming pussy.

One more kiss, and I've entered Valhalla. We lock lips for a long time coming down from our high. I keep my cock in her long after it's stopped twitching, holding in my seed.

My caveman instinct is in control, and it wants her flooded. Bred. Owned.

“Love you, little bird. Wherever we go next, whatever we do, whoever we pretend to be on the screen, love never changes.”

“Never?” She smiles, staring into my eyes. “Even if you find out I'm not half as much a freak in the bedroom?”

“Okay, you can stop playing coy,” I say, smiling. “You loved it, and so did I. We've got twelve more hours before we have to book it to the airport after the promo shoot. Plenty of time to come to terms with everything I do to you, and learn how to tell me how much you like it.”

My thumb trails her cheek. She stares into my eyes, and even if she didn't say anything, I'd know by the way her chest rises and falls, by her pale eyes lighting up like a moon coming off an eclipse.

“I did say no secrets, didn't I?”

I smile, trying not to think about the early morning meeting I'm due to have with her mom. “You did. So, tell me, are you a spankaholic, or is it the orgasm denial that gets you hotter?”

* * *

Heaven always demands its price in hell. I wake up with a few small bruises and a fresh ache in my hips, and I think I've gotten off easy. Every last sting in my bones is worth it. I leave Robbi to sleep in while I shower and throw black coffee down my throat. She'll meet me at the studio later for our last team meet before L.A.

I've already packed up last night's toys, and left a note for the condo's landlord about where to ship it after I'm gone.

She'll see herself out and drop her rental car off before she joins me at the studio. I head there alone, into my dressing room, and wait as planned, trying to keep a lid on my doubts.

Ericka is predictably late. I'm starting to wonder if she'll show at all, or if the delay is a fucked up negotiating tactic when I finally hear her little fist on my door.

“It's me,” she says, as coolly as if I've been expecting the devil himself.

I open up slowly, and come face-to-face with the woman who took five years off my life, stealing my girl away. “Have a seat,” I say, reaching into the small fridge in the corner for a couple waters.

She shakes her head, refusing it, and I settle in across from her while I pop the cap. It sickens me how much she looks like Robbi. Roughly how I imagine my beautiful bird would look after being pummeled by bad choices for thirty years, soaked in guilt, and run over by life itself.

“Look, I know why you're here,” I begin, breaking the icy silence. “You're afraid I'm going to hurt Robbi, and I get why. What happened between you and my old man years ago wasn't exactly kosher. He stuck his nose where it didn't belong, got between you and your family, and did wrong. If he wasn't dead, I'd invite you to lay into him one more time.”

“I visited the tomb,” she cuts in, a smile pulling her lips up at their corners. “Amazing what money like yours can buy, isn't it?”

“Uh, it came out of his estate. My brothers and his wife at the time did the arrangements. I gave the okay, wasn't as involved as they were, so I wouldn't know.”

“Such a shame. You always were the one who had it hardest, weren't you? The servants said he wasn't quite the monster he became when your older brothers were home. Have you even seen his grave?”

“Not since the funeral.” What the fuck is she getting at?

“You should. It's beautiful, the gold and stone and onyx. Especially his name, chiseled into the plaque that'll probably last forever. I love the way it caught my spit when no one else was looking.”

Anger cracks through my expression, before I regain control a second later. She's trying to get to me. I can't let her.

“What do you want, Ericka?”

Her eyes darken, and she leans forward in her seat, clasping her hands. “I want you to leave my daughter alone, Luke. Finish your little movie, and then never talk to her again. Believe it or not, I'm doing you a favor. Don't piss on my kindness, or you'll regret it.”

“I'm not going anywhere. We're involved, Ericka, and that's not going to change.” I don't flinch at her vague threats. The bitch doesn't blink. We stare, while I decide the only option left is nuclear. “I'm sorry you don't like me. I'm sorry my dad got under your skin, did some fucked up things, and got in the middle of a family that was going to pieces, without his interference or not. Did you know I got your husband in rehab years ago? You abandoned him the day you stormed out with Robbi in tears. I called the ambulance to take him in because no one else would. I tried to fix your mistakes, just like I'm doing now.”

“Watch your mouth, boy.”

“Watch yours, before you say something you'll regret to your future son-in-law.” I let myself smile when I see the horror deepen in her eyes. “That's right. Soon as we're in L.A., I'm asking Robbi to marry me, just like I planned to years ago, before you got in the way. It's happening, like it or not, and you won't talk me down. All that's left is my very strong suggestion we hash this out, and come to an understanding, but we don't have to. It's your choice. I'm taking her to the altar either way.”

“You want an understanding?” Her face tenses. She needs several seconds to collect herself, but she recovers without throwing a fit. For now, anyway.

“I do,” I say, giving her a serious answer. “We don't have to be enemies. If you can't put the past behind us enough to give me a chance, then I'm asking you to tolerate it. Don't get in the way. Let your little girl be happy, Ericka. She hasn't been, all these years, ever since the shit came down between our families. I'm giving her the chance we always deserved.”

“Christ, you Shaws are all the same. You're really blind, aren't you? Thinking this is some kind of talk, a negotiation?”

“Isn't it? Tell me what you want.” I lift the water bottle to my lips, keeping her in suspense while I take a nice long pull. “Is it an apology? Money? I'm more than willing to dole out both. I'll do it sincerely, if it'll stop you derailing us.”

“No. You're staying the hell away from my Robin. No deal, no discussion, no kombuya. I've come too far to deal with her finding out the truth.”

I sit up straighter than before. “What truth? You're talking about the arrangement you had with my dad?”

She narrows her eyes. “You think it was easy, living with a goddamned alcoholic? Danny didn't go down the drain because he found out I was having an affair with an asshole. He circled it for years. I can't tell you how many times I forced him to his meetings, brought him into counseling, watched him start hitting the bottle again two days after he swore he'd had his last drink. I couldn't change him, or fix us. All I could do was hide it from my little girl, minimize the damage.”

Damn it. Her look of hate aimed at me may be ice, but I think there's actually a beating heart under it. There's nothing worse than realizing the demon in front of me may be human after all. “I'm sorry. My father was a selfish fool. If he had any sense, any morals, he wouldn't have gotten involved, knowing what was going down between you and your –“

“My husband was a self-destructive prick!” She stands, catches herself, and then sits down again, rage boiling to the surface on her face before fading just as quickly. “Fine, you want the truth?” she sniffs, haughtily, a nasty smile appearing.

“I want anything that'll make you come to terms with me and Robbi.”

“That isn't happening. But because you've pretended to be so nice, I'll let you in on a little secret – your father never blackmailed me like I said. If he had, you'd better believe I would've come after him. I didn't give up the cleaning business for law just to let the world walk over me.”

Fuck. I never thought being right could feel like a punch to the gut. I'm still listening, distracting myself with a sip of water, trying not to retch over everything she hid, destroying my woman with her lies.

“Your father was a bastard in the end. He had his fun, dropped me for a younger girl, and sent me on my merry way with enough severance pay to send Robin to acting school. He even offered to pay for Danny's treatment. Maybe I'd have taken him up on it, if the drunken idiot hadn't stumbled on the notes your father wrote.”

“Notes?” So much for not being sick to my stomach.

“That's right. They were lovely when we had our fling. He put on a nice romantic act. Had me fooled, thinking we might have a future. I should've known girls like me don't belong with men like him. Rags to riches, maid uniforms to wedding gowns? All bullshit. Whatever you want with my daughter, I know you're stringing her along.” She raises her hand before I can say anything. “No, don't apologize. I don't want to hear it. It's in your nature, just like making sure she avoids the same mistake is in mine.”

She's wrong, dead wrong, but I still don't know what this is all about. Why the rancor? The demands?

“I don't understand. If there was no arrangement, no blackmail, then why the lie? Why persist?” I'm trying my damnedest not to look at her with total disgust, show her a shred of understanding for the failing marriage with a drunk that made her this way. “Are you really so proud, you can't tell your daughter the truth?”

“Bravo! And everybody says Hollywood is dumb.” She starts clapping. Her sarcasm shows me what it's like to be a bull with bright red rippling in front of its face. “I thought the world of Frank Shaw, before he threw me away, if you want to know the reality. Hurt like hell when he did, but knowing what Robin would think if I told her, if I came clean about the affair and her screwed up father...she's a fragile girl, Luke. You have to know that. Sensitive, innocent, worth protecting from the sick taint you Shaws leave over everything.”

“She's stronger than you think. Wouldn't be marrying her if she were the sheltered weakling you think she is. Shit, she's not seventeen, cleaning my family's house anymore. She's a grown woman, acting her heart out in a multi-million dollar film.” I'm glaring. I still can't figure this out, and the sinking sensation in my gut tells me we won't resolve shit here today. “Why tell me anything if you're not here to figure this out?”

“Oh, I'm going to figure it out, Luke. Since I know you're too damned stubborn to do it the easy way, we'll do it my way instead.”

That part where something so insane happens your life starts flashing before your eyes? For the next sixty seconds, I'm living it.

First, Ericka reaches into her purse. I hear a plastic bag popping open, and she brings a handful of something I can't see to her mouth. Her jaws work violently, chewing a mess. Then she stands up, reaches past me to my desk, and grabs the big glass paperweight off it.

“I'm sorry it has to go down this way. You look just like your father, you know. I'm sure those good looks and rich connections will help you into a comfy prison cell.” She's slurring her words around the red crap drooling down her chin from the corners of her lips.

I don't realize it's fake blood until she brings the paperweight up, smashing herself hard in the face. She slides out of her chair, stunned. Or maybe exaggerating because she's got the strength to hurl the orb against the wall so hard it shatters.

“What the fuck are you doing!” It's not a question.

I'm reaching for her, pulling on the back of her dress more violently than I should. It rips as she struggles out of my grasp. She turns the doorknob and hobbles to her feet, walking down the hall stooped over, heading into the studio.

I'm fucking frozen.

I contemplate doing a dozen things. I want to chase her down, throw her to the floor, and stop her before she finishes whatever the hell she's attempting. But I'm so stunned I hang back for too long.

She's halfway down the hall before I rush after her, get in front of her, and hold up my hands. It doesn't do anything to slow her down. She's smiling through the thick red mess drooling onto her blouse.

Christ. The woman could give a zombie a run with the way she looks, or at least an extra from an action flick.

The evil grin melts away when I hear the door opening behind me. I have just enough time to turn around, and see the crowd coming in, before I hear the voice that shoots a hole clean through my heart.

“Mom?!” Robbi runs forward, her eyes huge as she looks past me, reaching her mother just in time, before Ericka collapses.

“Oh my God! What's the meaning of this?” Another voice, and it couldn't be more shocked and appalled. Isabella Frieze grabs Ericka's other arm when Robbi isn't strong enough to help her up alone, and the crazy bitch goes face first into the author's white sweater.

“He...he hurt me. My jaw. I think it's...broken...”

How does a man describe a chaos so huge and unexpected it chews up his life and shits it out in front of him in all of five minutes?

By the time I'm no longer paralyzed, roaring my denial, two heavy security guards are on me, slamming my face into the floor. The handcuffs they clap on my wrists aren't the kind of kinky surprises I still had in store for us. Neither is Robbi wailing, and I'm not sure who's louder.

Her, or Ms. Frieze. The author won't stop shrieking at the top of her lungs, ever since Ericka peeled her face off the poor woman's shirt, and she saw the blood. What she thinks is fucking blood, and isn't.

“My Miles!” she keeps saying, over and over and over again. “Why, why, why?”

Pierce, the press people with him, and the rest of the production crew won't even look at me. There's no time for denial, self-defense, or escape.

I underestimated Ericka, and I'm paying for it with everything I care about. The soulless freak lays against the wall, holding her face with her eyes closed, stifling a smile in her palm as she watches me getting ushered away. Robbi keeps whispering in her ear between sobs, probably something about the paramedics coming soon.

She looks up once before I'm out the door, meeting my eyes for what I'm sure will be the last time. I trusted you. I loved you. I lost my fucking mind.

It's too much. I can only close my eyes as I'm thrown into a squad car and driven through the old Chicago streets lining the warehouse district where the studio is closing up shop. By the time everything is moved back to L.A., even if they have to find a new Miles, I know I'll be wearing orange and a number for a name tag.

I'm fucked, and for once it isn't my own fault.