Whitaker watches me. We have his mother’s premiere in a few days, and I’m trying on the dress for the event. He hasn’t left my side in two days though. We’ve fucked, and made love, so many times my body is exhausted, and yet, I want more. I always want more when it comes to him.

“Can you cut away more of the back?” he asks the designer.

Suzette makes a noise in the back of her throat but the designer freezes, and lifts his eyes to meet Whitaker’s. I wait for him to scream, yell, or throw some artistic tantrum. He does neither. He tilts his head to the side, his eyes moving from Whitaker then back to me.

“Is it not sexy enough? I didn’t want to draw too much attention,” he calmly states.

Whitaker hums, shifting in his chair. “You don’t want her to outshine my mother?” he guesses.

“Sir,” the designer mutters, lowering his head in a slow nod.

Whitaker stands. I feel his heat at my back before his fingers touch the base of my neck. “Lower the front then. It doesn’t look sexy enough. Stassia is the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen, this dress should wow the public, it’s her first appearance.”

He leaves without saying another word. He leaves me breathless when he walks out of the door. The designer appears in front of me, his eyes gleaming. “How do you feel about the front being cut to your waist?”

My eyes widen. Then I gasp as he brings a pair of scissors up to the neckline of the gorgeous dress. He cuts and pins the front. “We’ll have to tape her breasts, Suzette,” he announces.

The V is so wide, that the small swells of my breasts at the side show. My areolas are dangerously close to being exposed, but as I lift my eyes to the mirror I suck in a breath. I look sexy.

It makes me look like I actually have a waist, breasts aren’t needed with this neckline, or lack thereof. The dress is floor length with just a slight train at the back. I look like I belong on the Hollywood red carpet.

For the first time, I don’t look like a little girl dressing up, I look like—a woman.

“The bastard was right,” Suzette chuckles.

Ripping my gaze from my reflection, I look over at her with a small smile. “It’s gorgeous.”

Suzette nods. “It is, as are you, Stassia. You are ready to walk by his side, now.”

A few minutes later I’m out of the dress and back in my regular clothes. The designer leaves to make the repairs to the dress and place the final touches before the event.

Suzette stays, her eyes roaming over me. She opens her mouth a few times, snapping it shut. Then she bites the corner of her bottom lip.

“Suzette, what is it?”

She sighs. “The paparazzi have seen you. This is really important. They are like piranha. They can’t find out much about you, but they’re trying. Do you have any skeletons?”

My heart stops beating inside of my chest. “How have they seen me?” I almost screech.

I’m panicked completely panicked.

“They have pictures of you two walking. They came out a few days ago. You’re wearing a white lace romper, you look naked beneath it,” she murmurs.

Shaking my head, I take a step back. “No,” I breathe.

“What is it?” she demands.

I don’t tell her anything, turning from the room, I run out of the turret. I run all the way down the stairs and outside. For the first time since walking into the home with Whitaker, I leave alone. I run.

I don’t know where I’m going to go, but I know that I can’t stay here—can’t stay with him.

I can’t ruin his career, his life. Once the press finds out how I became his, he’ll be completely ruined—forever—that’s if he isn’t thrown in jail.

Suzette calls me. Glancing down at my phone, I silence it. She can wait a few minutes. “How does everything look?” I ask Roman.

His eyes meet mine and he lifts his chin. “Studio hasn’t said anything. The paparazzi have been camping out at the club, but nobody has gone in or out, and four A listers want to know the name and why they aren’t on the list,” he grumbles.

Chuckling, I lean back in the chair. “So everything is all good?”

He smiles. “It’s without unfavorable incident. You need to be more careful in the future, Whitaker. I don’t want to know how she ended up living in your house. I honest to fuck do not want to know. I just want to keep you working, and out of jail,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, I’m too gorgeous for jail,” I laugh. “Everything is set for the premiere? My accommodations for filming are in line as well?”

We have to leave the day after my mother’s premiere to check in for filming. I’ve been reading over the script, and now it’s time to get the ball rolling. I’m not sure if this is something I want to do past these movies, but it’s an experience if nothing else.

Roman lifts his chin. “Everything is in order. A suite with two bedrooms, a balcony, and living area. Fresh food to be delivered weekly, along with a butler for any other requests,” he informs.

“Perfect,” I state as I stand.

Roman’s eyes meet mine. “You’re good, Whitaker? This is all good?” he asks.

I lift my lips in a smirk. “I’m really fucking good,” I truthfully announce.

He smiles. “I’m glad. You deserve a good woman, a good life,” he offers.

I don’t say anything else, turning from him, I walk out of his office. Only when I’m in my car do I call Suzette back.

“Where are you?” she yells into the phone.

Frowning, I tell her that I’m just leaving Roman’s office.

“She’s gone, Whit. She fucking ran off, and I couldn’t stop her. I’ve been running all around the estate calling her name. I’ve got the maid, the driver and the cook helping me, but we can’t fucking find her.”

My world turns instantly black.

“I’m on my way,” I say attempting to keep my calm.

I want to scream, race, and panic. I don’t do any of it. I stay in complete control. Complete and total fucking control. Although, I make no promises when I find her of staying this way.