I shrugged him off, moving away.  I didn't want him to touch me before I'd showered the feel of douchebag David away. 

I went into the bathroom and locked the door. 

I washed myself repeatedly, but I still didn't feel clean.  When I finally emerged, he was done with his call.  He got one look at my face and he seemed to know. 

I felt like a child as he cradled me on his lap and tried to comfort me, but this was just the way of us.  We'd always been too much to each other, filled too many roles.  We didn't know another way.    

"No part, no career, is worth doing this to yourself," he finally said.

"I'll be fine," I protested. 

"And what about me?" 

I pulled away, tipping my head back to look at him.  "What about you?  Can you handle this?"

"I'm dealing with it.  I know you've wanted this since you were fourteen, and the last thing I'm going to do is stand in your way.  I'm not going to lie, I hate this part of it.  The idea of anyone seeing you . . . of your co-star touching you.  It all makes me insane.  But I can't stand in your way.  This is your dream and I'll support it, even the parts that I can't stand."   

"The worst is over," I reassured him.  I understood the jealousy, the possessiveness.  I could hardly fault him for it.  I wasn't sure what I'd do if Dante's job consisted of touching other women for any reason. 

It was a touchy subject all around.

"You were working on Gram's charity when I walked in, weren't you?" I asked him, though I knew the answer. 

"Yes.  I've always been involved in The Vivian Durant Project, but I'm particularly invested now that you've made me sink your entire inheritance into the endeavor.  I plan to see that money work miracles." 

I froze.  "What the hell are you talking about?  I don't have an inheritance." 

He sighed loud enough to jostle me against his chest.  It was part resignation, part exasperation.  "Well, Gram left you eight million dollars, and you told me to give it to her charity.  I figured since you never even let me finish talking about it that you meant what you said, so I damn well did it." 

I was blinking, trying not to cry, trying not to fall apart.  "She really did that?  She left that to me?" 

He made a noise in his throat that rumbled through him hard enough that I could feel every intense reverberation, his hand stroking over my hair, over and over.  "Of course she did, angel.  She thought of you as family.  It was in her will for years before she passed.  By the way, I have about a hundred papers for you to sign when you feel up to it." 

Joy, yes joy, fluttered through me.  Not because of the money.  I'd meant it when I said I didn't want it, that I wanted it donated.  No, again, I wasn't crazy, and prior to my recent starring role I'd been pretty close to broke, but I could not take money I had not earned, money that came from losing her.  I wanted every cent to go to the charity she'd been so involved and passionate about, but the idea of it, the gesture, meant everything to me.  She really had thought of me like family.  So much so, she'd stood by the sentiment to the very end. 

"Did Adelaide get her house?" I asked.  A part of me didn't want to know.  I was positive that Gram wouldn't have left it to her, but I also knew that Adelaide had her ways.  I figured she'd have strong-armed Leo for it by now. 

"Hm," Dante said.  It was half-laugh, half-snort.  "Not quite.  Gram left her nothing, not a cent.  The rest of us expected it, but Adelaide was furious.  She's still on a warpath.  It's been ugly."

I whistled.  I could not even imagine.  Adelaide was wrathful when it came to even the smallest slight.  She'd once terrorized a woman into moving out of town just because she didn't like where she'd been seated at a wedding. 

Being left out of the will for a payout she'd expected her entire adult life . . . it frightened me a bit just to contemplate the destruction she must have wreaked. 

"My God, that is some justice," I said reverently, my mind on how much I still worshipped Gram. 

"Time will tell if it will stick, though Leo has been holding his own more than usual."

"Let me know how it turns out." 

"Oh, I will.  Believe me, I will."      

My phone dinged a text at me, and I checked it, assuming it was an alert to get back on set. 

It was not.  It was a message from Farrah. 

I showed it to Dante.

FARRAH/SEXYASSBITCH:  I just put in my two weeks at the airline.  I'm over it.  It's no fun without you.  Shopping day soon! xoxo 

"Well, I guess we have our spy."  His tone was resigned but almost pleased.  He was relieved to finally know.

I wasn't sure what to feel. 

CHAPTER

TWENTY-NINE

"Being in love shows a person who he should be." 

~Anton Chekhov

PAST

SCARLETT

I thought I was fine at first.  I pretended—even convinced myself— that I'd bounced right back, returning to school as soon as I could, acting as though nothing had happened, talking about it to no one, not even the people I could talk about it with. 

But I was not fine.  Every day I got up, it felt harder.  It was a struggle to shower, to put on clothes, to eat, to do anything but sleep, or lie in bed and wish I were sleeping.