The CEO and Her Driver

Chapter 23

"BOY DO I HAVE DIRT FOR YOU!" Delle bellowed over the phone. I could almost see her leaning back in her office chair, propping her dirty boots up on her desk as she grinned with a clever glint in her eyes. 

She hummed into the phone. "I should charge you."

I stood in the bathroom, hair up in a messy bun as I aggressively washed my face with a washcloth, trying to return it back to neutral face mode. Like one of those avatars before it was given its upgrade details. "Delle, I can't afford your rates. I spend it all on clothes and rent." 

She snorted. "Well, crap. One of these days I am going to have to find more clients that pay well." 

I laughed, the sound echoing loudly in the bathroom. I caught a glimpse of my smile in the mirror. One I hadn't seen in a long time. My eyes were bright, face glistening from the water, grin completely wide. The smile felt strange but in a good way. I hadn't been able to get the smile to leave my face since leaving Tate in that elevator an hour ago.

"Someone's in a good mood," Delle broke through my thoughts. 

"I'm in a completely normal mood," I denied, forgetting for half a second that my sister's entire job was to catch liars. To detect deceit. Shit. 

"Suuuuure. I get on the phone, tell you I have dirt on your fashion arch-nemesis and your response is to laugh at my poor attempt at a joke about paying clients... Spill." 

"Oooor," I replied plucking up the phone and walking into my bedroom. "You could just tell me about all the amazing things you've discovered and we can skip over me altogether." 

I plopped down on the bed, burrowing under the blankets. "Foolproof plan." 

"I'll go first. But I expect to hear something good as my compensation." 

"Fine," I muttered, heart not fully in it. I wanted her take on Tate anyway. Delle was good at reading people... Well anyone she wasn't blinded by love for.  "What did you find out about Laurence Royal?"

"Carter Royal," Delle replied with a deep bone exhausted sigh. "...Is a hot mess of a character." 

I waited, sensing her rev up towards information. "Carter Royal is related to Laurence Royal. He is the younger, wild, unhinged brother."

"And?" I didn't know much about Carter Royal. Just that he was an artist with a very jealous, unhealthily obsessed fan base. And that he happened to have the same last name as Laurence.

"If being related to that little greasy napkin excuse for a human was the only thing wrong then I wouldn't have much to report so buckle up." Delle continued, taking a deep breath. "Carter Royal on his own isn't the problem. It's who he is connected to... Decklan Blake." The words were sharp, thick with venom like a crude set of swears.

A chill ran down my spine. That was a name I knew well. A slimy character who used his celebrity photographer status to prey on women, and then blackmail them with explicit pictures he took of them after earning their trust, in the rooms they shared at night. His work was stunning, but the lives he touched were destroyed, a flame burning beautiful things to ash. 

No art was worth that. Decklan Blake was a manipulative monster. One I had steered clear of thanks to Michale's wisdom when I had first started out. He had given me the rundown on the 'do not work with them list,' he made when he started off. Decklan was at the top of that list. 

I swore, the sound coming out as a whisper. "Are you sure?" 

"Yep," her voice was clipped, angry at the injustice of the existence of that garbage human.