By the time I’ve grabbed anything I could deem general property, my trash bag was full to the point of straining the lining. I huff back to Kirby and thrust the bag at her, making her fumble a little to keep hold of my shoes and grab the balled up end.
I puff a piece of hair that had come loose from my bun so that it is no longer in front of my face. With one last look at my boiling-mad father, I grab my iMac desktop. With a strength I never thought possible, I pull it from its connecting cords before I heave it forward and watch in satisfaction as Ivy scampers out of the way. My eyes leave Ivy’s weird dance to watch as the computer slams through one of the panels of glass that make up my father’s office walls before it crashes to the floor in a rain shower of glass at the foot of his desk.
“There, Dominic,” I pant angrily. “There is the rest of your stupid property. Thank you for reminding me that I luckily share none of your blood. If I never see you again, it will be a day too soon.”
I look over toward Kane, wondering again why he was even here to begin with, but when I see Ivy in his arms, I stop caring enough to ask. I know for a fact she doesn’t know him. She looked as shocked as I did that day in the lawyer’s office. But leave it to her to hook her claws into another man who’s spoken for. Let’s hope his relationship fares better than the one Ivy has already succeeded in ruining.
Just as well.
“Be careful with that one. Her bite is deadly,” I mumble heatedly toward him.
His eyes fire at mine before looking down at the woman in his arms. Apparently, he’s just noticing for the first time that she is wrapped around him like a little monkey. No, monkeys are cute. Snake. That’s it. Like the deadly snake she is.
I don’t give any of them another second of my time. I can feel the tears coming, but I refuse to let one drop in this room. I vaguely hear Ivy say something as I walk through the room and down the hallway. My silent, shoeless footsteps pad quickly and the tapping of Kirby’s heels follow right behind me.
Without a backward glance, I leave behind another part of my life that was slowly drowning me.
Six months earlier
The offices of Buchanan and Buchanan
I’M NOT EASILY ENAMORED WITH someone. In my line of work, a beautiful face is a dime a dozen, and usually, those beautiful faces hold nothing but vapor between their ears. It’s made the simplest of relationships all but impossible. The intrigue was missing. Nothing there was compelling enough to keep my attention past a quick glance.
I wouldn’t say I’m a saint, but I’m losing interest in meager exchanges of sweaty bodies and awkward good-byes. That dreaded period of holding my breath and waiting to see if our shared encounter would make it into the rags. Meeting someone when you’re a celebrity of my status has also been a big consternation for the last few years. Women want Kane Masters the icon and not Kane Masters the man. They couldn’t care less what makes me tick, what makes me happy, what goals I desire for my future. They want the status and money that comes with being on my side. The only future they can see is one I would have to pay for.
It’s been fifteen long years since I starred in my first lead role. Fifteen years of nothing but success that has no chance of slowing down anytime soon. I could stop making movies tomorrow and that success would never die. It used to be the only thing I wanted in life. Acting was my one and only aspiration. It was never a question of if I would become one of the most demanded names in Hollywood—it was always when. Two years after my first major motion picture role, I won my first Oscar. The year after that, another. Multiple awards followed. SAGs, Golden Globes, BAFTA—British Academy of Film and Television Awards—you name it; I hold it in a shiny case in the media room of my Malibu beach house.
But in all of that success, it’s become painfully obvious to me in the last couple of years that I was missing something in my life. The meaningless affairs dwindled down to nothing. The attraction to the women in my normal circles disappeared. I began to see them for what they were, and I’ve been struggling significantly with that.
I want companionship. I want a partner I can build a life with outside the insanity of my celebrity status. I want more for my future than bright lights around me.
Aside from my brothers, my few closest friends, and my parents, there really wasn’t anything left for me. I’ve begun to believe I would never find someone to fill the emptiness haunting me.
Bottom line—I’m lonely. Surrounded by millions and still the loneliest motherfucker around.
But I will never be lonely enough to settle for one of the vapid, fake women who surround my lifestyle. I want someone real. I need a challenge. I want to feel that connection to someone I’ve never been able to find. That one you read about. The one that makes you feel alive. Awakens you with just a glance. I know it’s out there because I felt it once before; a fleeting feeling gone just as quickly as it hit, but it’s out there … otherwise, the movies they pay me millions to create wouldn’t be instant blockbusters. Everyone dreams of finding that feeling. And until I find it, I’m afraid I’ll spend the rest of my days wandering around like a lost puppy.
Even my agent has noticed a change in my normally full throttled drive. I’ve slowed down on the circuit; taking fewer offered roles, I’m focusing more on producing and directing. If I’m quite honest, I’m not even sure acting is something I want to do anymore. The industry has lost its glamor; I know if I have any hopes of finding that life partner I crave and a chance at making my dreams a reality, being in the spotlight will blind me from the path to find those things.
Who would guess that the real Kane Masters is a lonely little boy wandering around in a thirty-five-year-old’s skin second-guessing every decision he’s made up to this point? If I had just followed my brother, Kyle, in his footsteps outside this life of fame, would I be married now, too? Have kids? Be able to walk the streets without paparazzi swarming me? I’m sure, at the very least, I would be able to form lasting relationships with the absence of the lie-riddled tabloids. Kyle still struggles because of Jessica, his wife’s own fame, but they’ve been able to carve out a life for themselves that seems to work.
“Drop me off here, Cam,” I tell my driver, bodyguard, and friend when he pulls up to my attorney’s office at Buchanan and Buchanan. “I’ll just be a second. I need to see if Steven looked over the contract I had dropped off yesterday and I’ll be right back. Just wait here and I’ll be quick.” He gives me a hard look, and I know damn well it’s because he hates that I brush off the potential dangers my celebrity status brings. “Seriously, Cam. No one has ever caused a scene here before, and I’m just going to be in and out.”
Cam begrudgingly nods but doesn’t reply. I hear him turn up the book he had been listening to before I jumped in the car earlier this morning. Normally, I don’t give a shit what he’s listening to, but he’s been on a romance kick lately and he knows I’ll get pissed if I start getting into a book only to have to stop. Those romance books get me hooked every time.
Call me a pussy—but there’s nothing wrong with a man who enjoys a good romance book. My dad always said the best way to learn what a woman wants is to pick up some of the smut they love to read so much. Written by a woman, it might as well be a road map to instant pleasure.
I laugh to myself as I take the elevator up and step into the immaculate offices of Buchanan and Buchanan. I look over at the couple standing off to the side and give them a nod. I see recognition flash in the man’s eyes, but the woman next to him catches my gaze.