“It’s why you built this place, why you rarely leave. It’s why you don’t want Shiloh to go to New York and why you packed up the fame and shut it in a drawer.”

  I nod, feeling like my heart might pop out of my mouth from the sheer anxiety and sadness I’m experiencing. “I got out. That was that. No amount of money or fame or even the music could keep me in a public life. The early years were brutal, but they were nothing compared to this. The danger and power people like that, whoever he was running with, wield? I’m not an idiot, I know when to duck and cover. So I did. I cowered, went into hiding, and have been here since.”

  “Dane.” She softly chokes on a sob, and I don’t think I can bear it if she cries on me.

  Margot’s arms come around me tightly.

  “That’s it. All of it. My deepest secret, the skeleton I’ve never told the whole truth about to anyone, but you. Because it could result in me losing everything. Everything I hold dear. As it is, my music suffered for the first year or two after leaving Victory Records. Every time I sat down to write, I pictured my ex-mentor’s face. Remembered how he’d screwed me, soiled anything that I put my name on and sent out into the world. My mojo was gone. Slowly it came back, by way of me nurturing other artists. For awhile, I had Brady scout where Vincent was looking for local talent, and I’d scoop them up first. It was my penance, or so I thought, for not telling a soul about his schemes. He’s still getting away with it, and it’s my fault. Fuck, but I’m a selfish, horrible man. I’m allowing him to do this, but I’m too damn tired to fight anymore. The threat of what he might do is ever-present, and now I don’t just have Shiloh’s safety to worry about. Don’t you wonder why I haven’t been with a woman in years? Why I refused to fall in love? Sometimes, no, all the time, I wonder why the hell you even looked in my direction. Fuck, Margot, even your name is meant to be beautiful. A pearl, that’s what your name means, some petite, magical treasure. A woman like you, with a name like that, was never meant for me. I’m darkness and danger, everything I touch turns dirty and wrong.”

  Everything where Vincent was concerned surely had. Just thinking about my former manager has my stomach in knots.

  “I watch a happy, well-adjusted girl every single day who would say and represent something otherwise.” She juts her chin out at me as if using Shiloh as an example will just make everything I said a lie. “And my name might mean pearl, but pearls are forged in darkness. They’re made from scraps of sand, pieced together out of nothing. You think I want to be some dainty, prissy person? No. I love your dirt, I love your grit. It colors my bland world and makes me feel like me for the first time in a very long time.”

  I marvel at her, staring into her features for what is definitely too long.

  “The demons and the ghosts will get you if you let them. Granted, I’ve been living with them for much shorter a period than you, but if I didn’t move on, they’d have swallowed me up. You’ve shut yourself off in fear that you’ll feel that pain again, all the while it’s eating at you from the inside. I get it, Dane, I do. Believe me. But there comes a point where you just have to know that the fear and pain will be there and walk into what you want anyway. Maybe I was sent here for a reason. Maybe it’s time for you to tell your story so you can finally be free.”

  Rolling her, I sink into her body with no warning. Margot gasps on our kiss, my desire to be connected to her in every way so crucial that I might expire if I don’t take her mouth and pussy. The raw need coursing through me doesn’t allow words or rational thought. This woman now knows the evilest part of me, the dirtiest secret I’ve kept locked away.

  And still, she chooses me. She wants me. Accepts me.

  All I can see is Margot, and if facing every fear means I get her, I’ll fucking do it.

  28

  MARGOT

  A chest full of makeup sits on the dresser when I walk into Shiloh’s room, a sparkly gown hanging from the doorframe.

  The teenage girl who has become a friend, who I hope trusts me like anyone she’s close to her in her life, lies on her stomach on the bed, enthralled in her phone.

  “Knock, knock,” I announce while rapping my knuckles on the door. “Just thought I’d come up to see if you need any help?”

  Shiloh flips over and sits up. “That would be amazing, yes. Can you do a smokey eye, because I was just googling and can’t figure it out for the life of me.”

  “Aren’t you Gen Z? Aren’t you supposed to be a hundred times better at makeup than my millennial ass?” I joke, and she chuckles at my screwed-up expression.

  Shiloh nods conspiratorially. “I mean, yes. I can probably draw on eyebrows pretty well, and contouring is a generational skill I’ve mastered. But the cat-eye escapes me, and my dress would look so good with one.”

  “Okay, break out the supplies and show me what we’re working with.” I point to her makeup case.

  While she busies herself, I sit at the desk, marveling that I’m the woman up here helping Shiloh get ready for her prom. It’s true that we’ve only known each other a few months, but I feel like a kindred spirit to this teenage girl, who is so full of life and ready to explore the adult world. I felt exactly like that before I went to college.

  She might not be privy to what’s going on between her father and me, though I’m sure she’s caught on, but I hope she’d let me be a part of a very special night in her life. It’s so close to graduation, and the activities leading up to it are some of my most cherished memories.

  Still being in Texas has been a surprise to us all. Technically, I’m done with my observations. Interviews are over. I have all the information and the first draft of my article is nearly written. Petra has asked once or twice when I think I’ll be back in the office, but I’ve just skirted around a committed date.

  Because I don’t want to leave. Dane and I made our wants clear to one other, and being together is a mutual desire. He was more forthcoming and revealed his deepest secret, and I’m still toying with how I’ll include it in the article. If I will at all. If Dane will finally resolve this all and want to expose Vincent for exactly who he is. All I know is that I’ve fallen, headfirst, in love with him, and there is no going back.

  But I’ve held my feelings and wants at bay, even though he seemed to be opening a door for me to talk about them. How do I tell a man a decade older that I want marriage and a family? That I want to live my life in New York and that I’m not sure if I’m cut out for the shuttered life he’s adopted. Even though we’re the most comfortable and open we’ve ever been with each other, I’m still scared of being vulnerable.

  “So I’m thinking a brown smokey eye to complement the magenta tones in my dress, and then I was going to curl my hair. What do you think?” she asks me, pulling the dress down and modeling it against her body.

  “I think it will look amazing.” I don’t ask why she didn’t ask her dad to hire a glam squad.

  He could have in a second, but I’ve noticed that Shiloh wants to keep her life as normal as possible.

  “And a pink lip, very Barbie,” I suggest, trying to understand what she’s going for.

  “I like where your mind is at.” She nods, eyes shrewd. “Okay, work your magic.”

  Shiloh and I have talked makeup before, and she knows I like to experiment with techniques.

  She gives me free rein with her makeup, which despite wanting to live a normal teenage life, is more expensive than all of mine put together. She’s got Chanel, Charlotte Tilbury, Armani, and Dior, where I wore Maybelline and CoverGirl in my teenage years.

  We laugh and chat as I do her makeup, not too heavy since she’s only eighteen but complex enough that it looks like she’s off to Cinderella’s ball. I want her to look like the youthful princess she is, because lord knows she has the tower she’s stuck in, thanks to her father. I shudder at the thought of how many dragons her future husband will have to slay until Dane thinks him worthy enough.

  “It’s okay that I’m helping?” I ask, not wanting to overstep, finishing the final swipe of lipstick.

  This is a bonding moment for us, a place I’m taking that should be reserved for someone else. As a daughter struggling through a tough time with her own mother, I just want to make sure Shiloh is comfortable with me being here tonight.

  “Well, I don’t really have a mom to help me get ready.” Shiloh shrugs as she turns to put on her dress.

  She’s not a shy girl, and despite all that she’s gone through, she doesn’t seem afraid or traumatized from it. Probably owes a lot of that to Dane, who took the brunt of the pain so she could live without it.

  But right now? The way she won’t meet my eyes tells me that she’s reluctant to admit what she feels. Like she’s testing if the connection we’ve made while I’ve been staying here will last.

  “Hey.” I walk to her, noting how beautiful she is in the whole getup. “I will always be here for you. Getting to know you and becoming friends has been the highlight of my time here. If you need someone in a big sis type of way, you can always call me. Whether you’re here, in New York, wherever. Just because I’m done with the article does not mean we’re done. It’s an honor to help you tonight, and I can’t wait to see everything you’ll accomplish.”

  And suddenly, I see it, what my life would be like if I stepped into the role of her mother. She didn’t ask me for that, we aren’t even discussing it, but it hits me like a ton of bricks. If I fill a crucial spot in her life that she’s always gone without, this is what we’d be like. This is a young woman, not a baby I’d have to care for or a kid unsure of what to do with Dad’s new girlfriend. Shiloh is confident and grown-up. She is heading into a chapter of her life where she needs a different kind of support.

  Could I do that? Could I be that? I always envisioned being a mother someday, but it never occurred to me that it could look like this. Would she want me to be that? Does Dane even want that sort of relationship?

  “He wants you to stay, you know.” Shiloh looks so intently at me and says this so quietly that I’m frozen to the spot.

  “Shiloh, I—”

  “I’m not dumb. Neither is Brady. My dad is happier than I’ve seen him in eighteen years, and we’re not deaf. Gross that I hear you all kissy when you guys think no one is in the room, but he’s so happy, Margot. I hope you know that my dad would be the best husband and he loves you so much, I can see it …”

  Shiloh is rambling, campaigning for her father in the way only a daughter and a teenager who doesn’t know how love works could. But I’m still stuck on the fact that she knows about us and approves.

  “Shiloh, we’re not … I don’t want to involve you in what your dad and I have between us. You and I have really bonded, and your dad and I have to talk about a lot of things.”

  I’m at a loss, because I’m pretty sure Dane has not had one conversation with her, and I don’t want to steal his thunder. The two of them need to discuss any big changes in their life, even if it means I’m not going to be a part of it, which it sounds like Shiloh wants the opposite of.

  She rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on, my dad is crazy about you. I’m pretty sure he’d chain you to this mansion if you had intentions of flying back to New York. And once he knows I’m on board, he’ll be throwing rings at you.”

  That thought of a family with Dane, Shiloh, and I pops into my head again. A life together, this being my home, a ring on my finger.

  What would our family look like? Our kids? Does Dane even want more? Does he believe in marriage?

  These are all things I don’t know, nor does he know my stance on them. I’ve never been the type of girl to create Pinterest boards about her wedding, but I have always thought I’d want a husband. That I’d be a mother someday. I want that love and generational succession. It’s in my heart.

  “The point is, Margot, that I want you to be that to him. To me. You make him so happy, and I totally approve. You’re awesome. I’d love you as my pseudo mom.”

  And now I’m nearly crying, because she’s throwing so many good statements at me that I can’t process them.

  “Shiloh, I would love that, really, but I …” Don’t have the say so to make it happen.

  Dane is the only one who can call those shots, and I’m too scared to push the issue.

  I hear the clomp of Dane’s shoes up the stairs, and his voice booms out in a sarcastic way.

  “Did you hear that idiot from the open mic got arrested for stealing a car? Margot, where are you? He stole a sports car from some nightclub and—”

  The minute he walks into Shiloh’s room, he freezes. Then I watch as his face contorts to one of bittersweet happiness and emotion.

  “Little girl, you look …” He breaks off, and I know he can’t speak past the ball of tears in his throat.

  “Dad, don’t do that!” she chides, going to hug him and turning her face so as not to ruin her makeup.

  “He’s right, you look magical. Like a princess,” I add, my smile stretching my cheeks. “Let me take a picture of you two.”

  I snap a candid on my phone of them hugging, and it’s absolutely precious. A little part of me feels like an intruder as she shows him her dress and how I did her makeup. They’ve always just had their own little world of two.

  “When did you grow up?” he marvels, and I’ve always known how he sacrificed part of his life to raise her, but it stands out more right now.

  One of the reasons I’m crazy in love with this man is because of the way he loves his daughter. As I watch them joke around and they bring me into the conversation, there is a sense of belonging that falls over me.

  Is this how it would be if I were part of their forever?

  29

  DANE

  Lyrics fill my head, turning over and over until I polish them like stone.

  Surprisingly, the arrival of Margot not only brought tons of feelings and truths to the surface, but music, too. It’s been three years since I’ve released any type of compilation or album, and I hadn’t planned to any time soon. In fact, I typically only sing for myself these days, keeping it in a vault like some weird recluse.

  But once Margot stepped foot on the compound, I couldn’t stop the lyrics occupying my head. I had to get them out, into a microphone, and sing until my voice cracked. And what I’ve got is a half-completed album, in less time than I’ve ever written one, even when I was trying desperately to.

  Stepping out of the booth, sweat trickling down my temple, I breathe and take a sip of water. My basement studio is the best investment I made on this property. It’s state-of-the-art, sharp to look at, and the best part? I’m all fucking alone.

  An email from Brady pings on my phone, and when I open it, there is just a link and the words “Don’t overreact.”

  Well, if there was ever a way my best friend could get me to panic …

  When I open the link, it directs me to the Dash Mod website, the magazine that Margot works for. I read over the title and her byline and realize Margot has given a little sneak peek of what’s to come in my full-page spread. What the hell? She didn’t tell me she was submitting this, much less what’s in it.

  As I read further and further, bile rises in my throat. Because I see too many details, too much personal information. Sure, I knew this was coming in an eventual sense, but even as the distant reality loomed closer, I didn’t think about the real impact it would have.

  And then, one sentence hits me like a punch to the gut.

  As we tour Brittany Hall, Shiloh’s future residence, you can see how much Dane will miss his daughter when she enters college next year.

  Her dorm. The dorm we assume Shiloh will be living in because we can build the best security for her there. And now, Margot has spilled that tidbit to the world. Why she mentioned Shiloh so intimately in this teaser is fucking beyond me. We never even discussed this, but I’m seeing her true colors now. She showed me at the beginning of her time in Texas that the article was what mattered, that she’d get the facts, and damn did she ever.

  I told the woman that I love her, opened my world to her, and she splashed it across the front page.

  Before I can stop myself, I’m charging toward the guesthouse, which I thought had been nothing more than a formality at this point. Margot spends every night in my bed anyway.

  Without knocking, I barge in, finding her in the kitchen halfway through putting turkey on two slices of bread.

  “What the fuck is this?” I shake my phone at her, and she probably thinks I’m crazy.

  Margot’s expression is all confusion until she touches me, steadying my hand enough to see the screen and what I just burst in here about.

  “Oh, jeez, I didn’t know they published it already! Shit. I was waiting to tell you until I got the heads-up from the online editors, but I guess they just pushed it.”

  Her smile is reassuring, as if she’s cleared up any mistake. Little does she know, this only fuels my ire.

  “You submitted something without even telling me it was coming? You wrote a whole piece and didn’t think to mention it, or let me look at it beforehand?” I’m trying to keep a leash on myself, but it’s getting damn hard.

  Her brows furrow. “Dane, this is my job, of course I wrote a preview. It was so surface level, I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal.”