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The clouds that had blanketed the city earlier in the day are now thick with moisture over the Hollywood Hills, and as we fly down into a wealthy neighborhood in the Valley, I can smell it in the air. In about an hour or so, it will start to fall.
I wish it was raining now, anything to cool the fury that boils under my skin. Her manager, someone Julianna was meant to trust, set up an elaborate ruse to ruin her in the eyes of the court. And her mother, at the very least, had not stopped him. Spite drives my wings, propelling me forward at a terrifying speed.
“We can be in and out in a matter of minutes,” Stiel calls after me, his breath coming out labored as he struggles to keep up.
“We will do whatever has to be done, however long it will take,” I say through gritted teeth. “I put her in danger. I will get her out.”
I drop down lower as we close in on the home. Stiel follows my lead.
“She’s been in this battle for years, Titan. You did not put her in danger; she was already there. You are not responsible for everything.”
My nostrils flare, and a roar builds in my throat. When I turn to look at Stiel, I can feel the fire burning in my eyes, and I watch as his own stone gaze goes wide.
If I had been able to keep my desire for her beneath my loin cloth that night on the hotel roof, perhaps I wouldn’t have put Julianna in this position.
“Jules is a clever woman,” Stiel says.
“Yes, she is.”
Slowing as we approach their shared two-story Spanish-style home, I land with extra care not to rattle the clay roof tiles. From numerous email and text exchanges, Stiel discovered Kathleen and Richard have been living together for the last three years.
Stiel lands next to me.
“I’m not sure if she would see it as your responsibility.”
She wouldn’t, she made that clear. But I ignore him and go about finding the easiest and least visible entrance. A balcony runs the length of the house, facing the backyard. I jump down and peer into the windows.
There are two sets of sliding doors. One goes to their shared bedroom, I guess from the open closet showcasing men’s suits and the multiple dresses and shoes piled up in front of the mirror. Julianna’s mother had tried on multiple outfits before meeting her daughter for lunch. She was nervous.
Because she felt guilty about tricking her daughter or worried she wasn’t going to get the information Richard wanted?
“There it is.” Stiel’s claws are pressed up to the second sliding glass door as he peers inside, eyes locked on the computer set up on a folding table at the back.
It’s a smaller room than its neighbor, and from the boxes stacked in the corner, it appears to be a makeshift office. Stiel wedges his claw between the glass and its frame. He slides it up, and the glass door unlocks with a satisfying pop.
I follow Stiel inside, both of us making sure our tails disturb as little as possible.
“Start looking through paperwork. I’ll work on the computer,” Stiel orders, and he hunches over the desk.
We are too massive for the room and have to tuck our wings tightly to our bodies and bow our heads to stop our horns from puncturing the ceiling.
I’m not made for this kind of fine and detail-oriented work. I see the files, and I want to start a bonfire. But I promised Julianna I’d just collect the information, so I drop to my knees and start digging through the boxes.
“The program’s installing. I’m going to download and permanently delete anything I find relating to the case.” Stiel taps away on the computer.
I look at the folders’ titles first. I ignore anything that looks like boilerplate legal documents and focus on those with more ominous titles. I ignore “J.H. On Set Pictures” and “J.H. School Grades.” I pick up and flip through “J.H. Measurements” and see that it contains every measurement chart she had as an actress from six to eighteen. I take it with plans to burn it.
I keep one titled “J.H. Romantic Relationships” and another titled “J.H. Work Relationships.” I stop on “J.H. P.I. Photos.”
I want to believe they weren’t capable of having Julianna tailed. However, if Richard was willing to pretend to be Julianna’s potential sugar daddy online, then hiring an investigator isn’t much worse.
“I found hard copies of the Sweet Arrangements conversations. They were in the printer. Fools.” Stiel says the last word under his breath and with a laugh.
I can’t laugh with him. I’m flipping through the folder. It’s filled with grainy black-and-white photos of Julianna just going about her day. I land on a photo of her entering what looks like a strip club with a female friend. In the top right corner, someone has marked the image with a red star.
The photos they are going to use against her in court.
Using the tip of my claw, I race through looking for the red star and pulling out all the photos that have it. I don’t know how long it takes me, but I lose track of time as I look at every photo in the folder. From the date on the bottom left-hand corner, they go back years. There are photos of Julianna at upscale clubs, photos of her drinking, photos of her with different men, several photos of her leaving the gym in two-piece workout clothing. The final one is a photo of Julianna, ass up in the air in a tight, shiny dress, over a man’s shoulder—overmyshoulder.
