AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I wasn’t about to run the risk that you’d play unfairly like your daddy.”
“What are you insinuating?” she grits through her teeth, which only makes me grin in return.
“You would’ve twisted things around and spun something useful to benefit your client. Poor Teagan, shot down by the bully.” I shake my head and huff. “Nope. Working with you seemed like the lesser of two evils.”
“I’ll ask you again. Why do you hate me so much?”
“Hate you? That implies I give a fuck about you, princess.”
“From where I’m standing—”
I lift my hand and stop her words. “I don’t. You are a means to an end. I need this project to happen. I can either have your help or not. I don’t give a shit.”
Her light blue eyes lock on me, her teeth biting her lower lip.
She’s out of her element.
Despite growing up with a shark of a dad, she’s flailing.
I turn, giving her my back.
“Where are you going?”
“Back to the set. We’re already behind on filming because of your client and her mother.”
“I’ll speak to them,” she shouts at my back, but I ignore her.
I don’t have to look to know that Mallory is trying to keep up. I make my way back to the chair I had vacated only minutes before and plop down onto the seat.
When Mallory doesn’t follow suit and find a seat, I glance around to find her.
She’s across the grass talking to someone.
Jeffrey.
What’s she up to?
You know what? I don’t give a fuck.
15
Mallory
@Stargossip: The rumor mill has been a bit silent. Should we be worried about the state of Twisted Lily?
@PenTen: I’m more concerned about world issues!
@Deathtothesystem: No . . .
The last thing Teagan needs to deal with today is her overbearing mother.
However, I’ll honor my client’s wishes and back down.
If it were up to me, I’d tell her she’s not welcome on the set. Teagan is eighteen, so she doesn’t need her mother here.
I’m not sure what it is or why she has this hold on her, but unfortunately, she does.
It’s hard for me to understand that type of relationship since I never wanted my parents around.
My mother ignores me. Often too busy getting her Botox and fillers. When she’s not injecting some poison into her face, she’s going shopping with her friends and lunching.
She’s the quintessential trophy wife. My father, on the other hand, is a condescending prick who truly doesn’t believe in me at all. He thinks that I should just get married and pop out children.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but since he finally understands that’s not my life goal, he wants me to work for him. And it isn’t because he wants me beside him, building an empire, but because he has no faith in me not to sully his name and reputation.
He wants me under his wing to control me and the narrative. So, I guess in that regard, I do understand Teagan’s relationship with her mother.
My father is controlling and overbearing, but unlike Teagan, I don’t let him.
I’ll make something of myself and flip him the finger when I manage without him.
I take a deep inhale, realizing she’s still young. I’m ten years older than her. Maybe by the time she’s my age, she’ll understand, and she’ll stand up for herself, too.
Then there’s Paxton.
Yet another man who thinks he knows it all and has the world under his control.
I can’t be anywhere near him right now.
My teeth grind together. I clench so hard I’m afraid a tooth will crack.
Instead, I move toward where a group of people are gathered far enough away that they don’t interrupt the shoot but close enough that they can still observe. I’m already too close when I realize my mistake. Jeffrey waves me toward him.
It’s not that he’s done anything to bother me, and truly, I should be cozying up to him, seeing as Teagan is having so many problems on the set. He’s the producer, after all. But every time I look at him, I think of my father, which is ridiculous, but it doesn’t stop it from happening.
Instead of trusting my gut, I head toward him. A lump forms in my throat the closer I get. I’m not looking forward to this conversation.
“Mallory.”
“Hi, Jeffrey. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” I give him a small, tight smile, hoping it’s enough for him to think I’m busy and can’t sit and chat.
However, he doesn’t seem to get the drift as he motions to the empty chair.
“Come. Take a seat.”
“I can’t. I need to—”
“Oh, nonsense. Your client is working. What else do you have to do?”
I open my mouth to respond when, suddenly, he’s waving his hand again. “I won’t take no for an answer. Sit.”
Seeing no polite way out of this, I do just that. I plop down in the seat and move until I’m comfortable.
