“Give this more news coverage,” I order, my eyes lingering on the articles about Raven’s couture brand. I didn’t realize it last night, but one of the brands on stage was hers. From what I can tell, her latest pieces have been received very well, and they deserve more attention than they’re getting.
What’s the point in owning several gossip and fashion magazines if I can’t use them to push my friend’s work? I hope her company continues to grow to the point that she’ll have to quit modeling for lack of time.
I hate how she’s become the object of men’s desires. They can’t see beyond her beauty, to the funny and kind woman within. I know how toxic this industry is, and I don’t want that for her. I want her safely behind the flashing lights, instead of in front of them.
Raven hasn’t been herself recently, and I’m worried about her. I’m worried it’s all becoming too much for her. The continuous dieting, the tough requirements that photographers have, the often harsh shooting environments. I never understood why she does it at all. She’s beautiful beyond words, but somehow, this career doesn’t suit her.
Her fashion brand, on the other hand? That’s perfect for her. It allows her creativity to shine through, and she still operates in the industry she grew up in, without being subjected to the very worst parts of fame.
“Bradford Manson called,” my secretary, Dom, tells me. “He wanted to inquire about the script he sent in. Based on your notes, it appears like we’re ready to okay the funding for his project. Should I put that into motion?”
I grit my teeth and look up sharply. “No,” I snap, my thoughts turning back to the way he spoke to Raven last night. “He’s a piece of shit unworthy of being stuck on the bottom of her fucking shoe.”
“What?” Dom says, confused.
I wave my hand in dismissal. “Forget it. I never want to hear that fucker’s name again. We won’t work with him again, and let it be known that any actor or actress that works with him will never work with Windsor Media again. The same goes for anyone that gives him funding.”
Dom’s eyes widen. “What did the poor sucker do for you to give him the Kiss of Death? He’ll never work again.”
I smirk at the stupid expression. Being blacklisted by the Windsors has been dubbed The Kiss of Death because it’s a slow-acting poison, and those who are hit with it often don’t even realize it until it’s too late, until they find themselves surrounded by the remains of their careers.
I shake my head. “I don’t give a fuck if he never works again. He should’ve thought of that before he let his mouth run. Let’s see where he’s going to get the money to pay for much of anything. Fucking asshole.”
My secretary nods, his shock apparent. I’m beyond reasonable most of the time — you have to be, in an industry filled with inflated egos. This fucker, though… he’s about to find out what happens when I lose my patience.
“Come to think of it,” I tell Dom, my finger tapping on my desk. “There’s a store manager called Andy. He works in our flagship mall. I want him fired. He works for one of the jewelry stores. I forgot what it’s called. Whatever Hannah’s favorite brand is, that one.”
Dom clears his throat uncomfortably. “If it’s one of the malls, then that’s real estate, and it falls under Sierra’s jurisdiction. You know she doesn’t like it when we interfere with her business.”
I lean back in my seat and stare at my secretary. He’s 6’3” and often mistaken for my bodyguard, yet he cowers at the thought of my sister. I suppose I can’t blame him. My little sister is somewhat unhinged, after all. “Call Sierra and tell her that Andy leered at Raven the whole time I was there with her, and that I want him gone. Doesn’t she want her best friend to be able to go to one of her malls without being objectified and lusted after?”
Dom’s eyes widen, a hint of anger in his eyes. “He dared offend Raven?” He grits his teeth and nods resolutely. “I’m on it.”
I watch as he marches out and suppress my smile. It isn’t just my family and I that love Raven. It’s everyone she comes in touch with. She’s so easy to love, and the entire world sees it but her.
I glance out the window, hesitating for a moment. I genuinely don’t like the idea of her going around unprotected. What would have happened if I hadn’t been there last night? What if fucking Brad hadn’t taken no for an answer?
I grab my phone and stare down at it, swallowing down my pride as I call the one man I fucking despise. He might be an asshole, but he’s the best at what he does.
“Silas Sinclair,” he says.
I grit my teeth, annoyed at the mere sound of his voice.
“This is Ares Windsor.”
“I know. I have caller ID. All phones have that in this day and age.”
I fucking hate this man. “I need two extra bodyguards. I want the best you’ve got, but there’s a caveat.”
“A caveat?” he asks, intrigued.
I clench my jaw as memories of Raven on his arm come to mind. For years, the two of them were seen together, dating on and off again. I wish there was someone else better suited for the favor I need, but this fucker truly is the best of the best.
“I want them to stay out of sight. They are to protect someone without her knowing about it. I want all threats to her eliminated before they even have a chance to materialize. That includes men that harass her or that won’t take no for an answer. I don’t care how they do it, but the second she looks even remotely uncomfortable, I need someone to step in.”
He chuckles darkly, the sound fucking irritating. “Who is it that requires protection to that extent? Your fiancée? I thought we already put someone on her?”
I look up at my ceiling, an inexplicable hint of nerves running down my spine. “Raven Du Pont.”
He falls silent for a moment. “You would go to such lengths to protect her in secret?”
I close my eyes and inhale deeply. “I would.”
“It’ll cost you.”
“I’m sure it will.”
“One favor. To be called whenever I please, and you cannot deny me.”
I hesitate. Silas fucking Sinclair. He knows how much a favor from a Windsor is worth.
“Anything but that.”
“Then I suppose you’ll have to find someone else, Windsor.”
Fuck. This fucking asshole. “Did you ever even give a fuck about her?” I snap.
He laughs, the sound grating. “I did, and I still do. My wife and I both love Raven as though she’s family, and we always will.”
“Yet you demand such a high price for her protection?”
“I don’t mix business and my personal life.”
“That’s bullshit. You founded your entire company to find your wife.”
He laughs again, and never before have I been this tempted to punch someone in the face.
“Yes,” he admits. “Alanna is my only exception.”
“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth. “One favor. So long as it doesn’t harm anyone and doesn’t breach my personal values.”
“Done,” he says. “Raven will never realize some of the most skilled and ruthless men I’ve got are protecting her round the clock.” Then that fucker laughs again. “By the way, you should probably know that Raven has unknowingly had my protection for years now — for free. You just paid one hell of a premium just to keep men’s advances at bay, something I never bothered with. You should probably ask yourself why.”
Then he hangs up on me, leaving me fucking fuming. Fucking piece of shit.
