Home. That was what L.A. was supposed to feel like, but it never did. I’d lived here my entire life. My earliest memories were sitting in offices with a box of Barbie dolls waiting for my mother to finish some audition or meeting with a casting director. Her voice blasted through my phone now as I sat in the lobby of the Ransom Building staring at a different receptionist with supermodel good looks.

“Will you calm down!” I whisper-shouted into the phone. “Jesus. I don’t have you on speaker and anyone could hear you.”

“Quinn, you need to fix this. I knew it was a bad idea letting you traipse off to Texas by yourself. Honey, you’re out of your league. Do you know how many angry calls I’ve had to field from your management since that picture of you and that ... that ... criminal whatever he is hit the internet?”

My nostrils flared as I let out a breath. There were so many falsehoods to unpack in that statement, I didn’t even know where to start. As far as fixing things, I was already here. I had an appointment twenty minutes ago with Oliver Ransom, head of the studio and Noel’s uncle. That he’d kept me waiting this long didn’t bode well.

“You just do whatever Oliver wants you to do, okay?” she said. My mother’s tone had turned to full-on whining. I knew more than anything she was worried about her monthly allowance. I had a lot of funds tied up in this new project. Meanwhile, her house in Malibu was fully paid for. She had access to a driver. All of her household bills came to me. There’d been no break in that chain and wasn’t likely to be. This was just another attempt of hers to control me and live vicariously through me.

“Mom,” I said. “This is my career. My project. I’ll do what I think is right.”

She laughed into the phone. “You should listen to Noreen. That werewolf movie is perfect for you. The money’s more than you’ll ever see on this biker thing. You’ll be lucky to break even on that.”

“I’ve told you a thousand times, it’s not about the money.”

This conversation was pointless. She’d never understand. As she blathered on about what I should and shouldn’t do, my thoughts drifted back to Port Azrael. When I closed my eyes, Domino’s face was all I could see. My heart gave off sharp little pangs as it had since I stepped off the plane at LAX.

Domino.

I’d never meant to let him in that much. As strange as it seemed, my first taste of his world felt ... comfortable. He was rough and dangerous and all the things I’d been warned about. And yet, I knew he told me the truth when he said he didn’t want anything from me.

I brought my fingers to my lips. When I closed my eyes, I could still taste him, still feel his rough hands sliding over my hips, guiding me into him. What had I expected? I knew what he’d done that last night. He tried to pretend it was nothing, but I’d seen the secret behind his eyes. Domino had just beat me to the punch. I’d gone to his club for two reasons. First, to see what it was like. Never in my wildest hopes had I expected an invitation to the Dark Saints’ clubhouse. Josie Bullock had been everything I imagined plus a whole lot more. My creative juices started to flow the minute I met her. But I’d also gone there to tell Domino goodbye. The fallout from our brief time together was still settling on every corner of my life. If I had any hope of going back to it intact, we needed a clean break. Still, it hurt like hell.

“Miss Larsen?” The receptionist gave me her fake Hollywood smile and gestured toward the glass elevator behind her desk.

“I have to go, Mom,” I said. “I’ll call you later today after the dust settles.”

She sighed. “Just don’t screw this up, Quinn. You should have let me or Noreen come with you. You’re too emotional. We’ve sheltered you far too much.”

I had to resist the urge to laugh into the phone. Sheltered me? This woman had offered me up for sale the second she sensed a willing buyer. Still, pangs of guilt speared through me. Things are never easy between mothers and daughters.

The elevator doors opened and I rode up to Oliver Ransom’s penthouse office suite. I’d only been here once before. Noreen and Noel accompanied me. I knew Noel had bent his uncle’s ear in advance of this meeting. I only hoped the elder Ransom could see straight through his nephew’s incompetence. He wasn’t doing much to hide it from my vantage point.

Next to James “Domino” Dormer, Oliver Ransom was one of the most physically intimidating men I’d ever been in a room with. He stood six foot three and probably two hundred and fifty pounds. Bald since his twenties, Oliver had a shiny, tan head and a silver goatee groomed to a point. He rose from behind his desk. His broad smile put me at ease as he leaned over and shook my hand. His was beefy and warm and big as a bear’s paw. When he gestured to a chair across from him, I took it, crossing my legs and sitting up straight.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” He beamed, though I knew he wasn’t. Everything about this meeting was designed to show me he was in charge. I’d wanted a lunch meeting downtown. Instead, he’d insisted on his turf. Even the oversized mahogany desk and skyline beyond were meant to intimidate. But I wouldn’t be. This movie had been dead in the water until I showed interest. As much as I hated his methods, Noel had been right about one thing. In this town, there was no such thing as bad press and his little stunt outside Cups got people talking about me. The movie was also mentioned and my publicist had been fielding calls about it for days. Sure, they were going for the salacious angle looking for dirt on who Domino was. But every conversation began and ended with the mention of this movie.

“Thanks for seeing me,” I said. “I won’t take up much of your time.”

Oliver leaned back, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. He looked me up and down in a way I was used to, through a haze of dollar signs. “Good. You’ve caused quite a stir. You know how many phone calls I got from your agent and my nephew? Seems you take research to a whole new level.”

I reared back a bit. Was he judging me? “About that,” I said. “I’m more committed than ever to completing this project. The Club is going to be fantastic for both of us. I’m sure of it. You wanted buzz, you’ve got buzz. I told you when we first met on this I could bring that to the table. And the script is good, Oliver. Brilliant, actually. These men, this club, we can make something no one’s ever seen.”

Oliver’s biting laughter pierced through me. He leaned far back in his chair, making the legs creak. “Quinn, it’s generally not a good marketing goal to create something no one’s ever seen. But I appreciate your input. You are a valuable member of this team.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that.” I had to be careful here. I didn’t want to trash Noel to his uncle. Oliver Ransom was as big as they come in this industry. As such, he had to know Noel’s shortcomings. But he was also family. Noel’s mother was his sister and rumor had it Geneva Ransom knew how to make her brothers’ lives miserable.

“You know I met with my nephew this morning.”

I did. Still, there was a finality to Oliver’s tone that set me on edge. I feared this wasn’t a meeting so much as a courtesy. I should have been in on that meeting. Noel might be his nephew, but we shared producing credits.

“Noel’s met with a new screenwriter. Damon Monroe.”

My heart sank. Damon Monroe was big time, sure, but he was famous for buddy cop and fraternity party comedies. Shit.

“For this project? Are you sure …”

Oliver put up a hand, silencing me. “We’re going in another direction, Quinn. We’re going with Damon. He’s delivered a new script I want you to take a look at. I still have a lot of faith in you for this part.”

“Damon Monroe writes broad comedy,” I said. “I’m not a comedian. I …”

“And I’m willing to give you a chance. You don’t have to be funny. You just have to be you.”

My heart sank. I knew exactly what he meant without having to take a look at any new script. Oliver reached into his desk and pulled out a thin manila envelope.

“Read it over the weekend,” he said. “Damon’s treatment and the rewrites on the first few scenes are in here. Monday morning, come back in. I’d like to see what you can do with it.”

“You’re asking me to come in and read?”

My head felt light; Oliver’s face seemed to waver in front of me like a funhouse mirror. Not only had Noel convinced him to change the direction of this project, but he’d also put my job in jeopardy. All my goals for the next five years seemed to vanish. I didn’t have to read a word of this to know what Oliver wanted. He wanted a dumb blonde, probably. My wardrobe would probably consist of a string bikini or nothing at all. It’s little more than what Noreen wanted. What my mother wanted. Retooling The Club as a buddy cop movie with Damon Monroe writing and the Ransom Brothers producing would make a ton of money. I knew he was right about that. But at what cost to me?

I started to get out of my chair. A tide of rage gathered inside of me. The edges of my vision took on a white haze. “I’m not sure I can agree to this,” I said.

“You haven’t even read it.”

“You want to make this a comedy. You want me to play the sex kitten or something. That’s the direction this is going?”

Oliver rose along with me. My eyes went up and up. He really was huge. “Honey, no matter what direction this picture goes, you were always going to play the sex kitten. Embrace it. It’s your brand. It’s what your fans want from you. Don’t ever forget that. Use it. It won’t last long. Five years from now, you’ll be too old for anyone’s fantasy.”

I wanted to throw up right on his desk. I gripped the chair back. I would not let him see me flinch. “I’ll read the script. I’ll talk to my management. But I am not signing off on these changes. I’m a partner in this. I own the rights to this story.”

“Your production company owns the rights. You have silent partners and financial backing. Your investors want their money back. The Ransom Brothers are one of your investors. I make the call on this one, baby. Nobody else.”

Baby. Coming from Oliver Ransom, it made my stomach churn.

“I’m not okay with this, Oliver. It’s the wrong call. I’m telling you.”

He knocked his fist on the desk. It startled me, but I stayed rigidly still. Then Oliver Ransom came around his desk. He stood inches from me, towering over me. I held the chair between us and slowly lifted my gaze to meet his.

When he grabbed my arm hard, I tried to push the chair between us. Oliver hooked his finger beneath my chin. “You’ll do what I say, or else.” His fingers dug into my flesh, bruising me.

My blood boiled. My eyes stung. I never should have taken this meeting alone.

“Get. Your. Hands. Off. Me.”

He jerked me forward, twisting my arm. “Be careful. You’re disposable, Quinn. You think there aren’t a million other girls prettier than you who wouldn’t kill to have me put them in one of my movies? You’re starting to look ungrateful.”

My fingers began to tingle. He squeezed my upper arms so tight he cut off the blood flow to my hands.

When his eyes locked with mine, I saw the darkness inside of him. I’d seen the same thing once before in one of my mother’s boyfriends just before he hit her in front of me.

But Oliver Ransom let me go. He pushed me away from him and I staggered sideways.

“We’re done here,” he said. “You can leave. I’ll have my secretary set up an appointment for your audition.”

I don’t remember walking out. The next thing I knew, I stood trembling in front of the elevators. I jammed my finger on the down button. Sweat poured down my back and with each slow second, I expected Oliver’s office door to open. I heard him swearing from behind it, but he didn’t come out.

Then, mercifully, the elevator doors opened and I dove inside. I turned and wedged myself in the corner. I was alone. The doors shut and the car began to descend. With each floor I passed, I wondered if my career was heading straight down with it.

* * *

I just wanted to get back to my house and curl into a ball. I had to regroup. The Club was dead in the water. If I wasn’t careful, my career would be dead in the water. Oliver Ransom needed dealing with, but I couldn’t sort it all out in the next five minutes. As soon as my driver pulled away from the curb of the Ransom Building, I deflated. I’d been holding it together for far too long. Oliver Ransom had made his intentions clear. He wasn’t beneath bullying or harassing me to get his way. Whatever happened next, I’d never work for him. But without the Ransom backing, I could kiss this project goodbye. There’d be nothing left for me but more slasher films. Hell, Noreen’s resignation was probably already in my inbox.

My phone rang, but I couldn’t answer it. It was my mother first. Then Noreen. Then Rita, my publicist. If I had to guess, Oliver Ransom had been busy in the twenty minutes since our meeting.

“You okay, Miss Larsen?” Jake, my driver, called back. He was a grandfatherly type, just past sixty with thinning white hair. Whenever I called the service, I asked for him.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Just ready to call it a day.”

Jake smiled, took the hint, and gave me my privacy. Traffic was murder as it always is on the 101. But finally, Jake made the turn and pulled up to the gated entrance to my Hollywood Hills neighborhood. We never made it in though. Jake slowed and rolled down his window.

“Hang on a second, Miss Larsen,” he said. “There’s a ruckus at the gate. Maybe we better drive around the block until it clears.”

“A ruckus?” I asked, leaning forward, I peered through Jake’s window.

My heart thundered. There, standing at the gate, was Domino.

“Domino,” I whispered, blinking wildly.

I had to be dreaming. This couldn’t be real. He walked down the street, his swagger drawing stares from a few of my neighbors.

“I’ll get out here, Jake,” I said. When he called after me, I couldn’t hear it. I scrambled out of the car. When my feet hit the sidewalk, I straightened, resisting the urge to run.

“Hey, Hollywood.” Domino smiled and jerked his chin at me.

I went to him. Everything that had happened over the last two hours flooded through me and threatened to drag me down. But Domino was here. Impossibly, he was here. I didn’t understand it. Hadn’t wanted to hope.

“Quinn?” he asked, stopping in mid-stride. He saw something change in my face. I couldn’t hold my emotions back. By the time he got to me, I was already crying.

“Baby, what is it?” he asked.

Sniffling, I reached up and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. “It’s just ... I’m ... I’m so glad you’re here.”

He swept me off my feet and gave me a kiss. When he set me down, I took his hand and led him to the back seat of my limo. With a nod to Jake, the gates opened and we drove on through.