AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Something I can use, ammunition.”
“Be very careful what you’re asking for,” I warn, and she frowns, looking at Raff for clarity.
“Be very precise with what you want to happen, Reign. We are not private investigators; we are the best killers in the world. So, what do you want?” he presses.
“What do you want?” I repeat.
She gnaws on her lip, thinking it through. It’s clear she doesn’t like asking this of us, used to fighting her own battles, but I would do much, much worse than track down some dirt on this man for her. The things I would do if she simply asked would horrify her. I need to be sure what she wants so I don’t upset her. She might like a little chaos, but she is not a killer.
Not like me.
“I want dirt. Nothing else. No one gets hurt; nobody dies,” she answers, saying it like she can’t believe she has to. “I want something I can use to embarrass him. He loves throwing people’s pasts in their faces, so I want to do the same to him.”
“Done.” I nod and stand, kissing her swiftly. “I will have it in an hour.”
“He’s that good?” she asks as I leave.
“He’s better than that. Just be careful what you ask him for, Reign. I have a feeling Dal wouldn’t deny you anything,” Raffiel warns her.
He’s right.
Raff Jr. barks as if he agrees.
TWENTY-NINE
Dal got exactly what I needed. I don’t ask how because part of me doesn’t want to know. There’s something unhinged in Dal’s eyes, and it’s clear I have no idea just what he is capable of. Raffiel basically implied he’s loyal to me now and I can use him as a weapon, so I need to be careful how I wield him. It doesn’t mean I’m scared of him—no, not the man who snuck into my bed and held me tight all night as if he couldn’t bear to be away from me or listened to my lyrics and helped me work through the issues today. Dal is much more than a killer, but from the confusion in his eyes, it’s clear he didn’t know that.
Until now.
I stand in the wings, waiting for my turn. I’ve dressed the part of a villain in a low-cut, revealing black dress with slits up both sides. My makeup is dark and bold, and my piercings and tattoos are on display. I’m everything he will pick apart, which is just what I want. I want his focus on me. I want him to take the first shot. I’m ready this time. I still remember the first time I stood here, nervously chewing my nails. I was so young, so naïve, as my manager told me to smile more, to laugh at the jokes, and that this could make my career so play nice. Well, fuck him. It’s clear he regrets it now. I see the panic on his face as he strides toward me.
“Play nice,” he hisses. “Remember who he is.”
“Oh, I do.” I grin, and he groans.
“Why do I regret this?” he mutters.
“You should,” I retort as I turn back to the stage as he lands another jab. I spent the whole day preparing while writing a new song. The release of my new single is coming next week. I understand the need for marketing and media, but this? This isn’t it.
“Now let us welcome Reign Harrow to the stage!” he calls as the crowd goes mad. “The disgraced rock star recently made a reappearance, and I’m sure we’re all dying to ask the dirty questions.”
It’s my cue, and his line sets the tone for the interview. He wants to make me out to be the villain. I can play that well. Smiling widely, I saunter onto the stage, winking and blowing kisses at the crowd. The others sitting on the sofa have already been interviewed, and they slide down to make room for me. There’s a very famous, middle-aged male, an older female filmmaker, and a new pop singer. I nod at them in greeting, even though we met backstage before this. They expect me to sit and joke and smile. I sit smoothly, crossing my legs, and Gerald, the interviewer, frowns at me for not shaking his hand, but he sits behind the wooden desk as the crowd quiets down so he can talk.
“Welcome, Reign. It’s nice to see you back, and with some clothes on this time!” he jokes, and the crowd laughs nervously with him. No doubt he’s referring to those nude pictures that were leaked last year right after I came on this show.
“Well, I was told I could be arrested if I were naked on the show.”
He laughs, as do those next to me.
“I don’t know. It would be more comfortable than this tux,” the middle-aged actor—James, I think his name is—jokes, and I grin at him as I lean back.
“Tell me about it. You don’t have to wear a bra and Spanx,” I reply, and he chuckles with me.
“Oh really? With the sort of dresses you wear, I always assumed you went nude underneath.” Gerald smirks. “What about the one we saw the other day? How do you even wear underwear with that?” He displays a picture from the paparazzi the other day when I wore a tiny dress.
“You don’t.” I blink innocently as he leers and the others laugh.
“Okay, okay, Reign, we have some very important questions to ask you tonight.” He becomes serious.
