Page 76 of Jane Deyre
I throw my napkin onto the table and leap up from my chair.
“Excuse me, I have to use the restroom.”
I need to get away from Ward Rochester.
What’s more, I need to get away from the sleazebag who’s sitting next to me.
And feeling me up.
CHAPTER 40
Ward
Where is Jane? She’s been gone from the table for close to twenty minutes. Seriously, how long does it take to go to the bathroom? Maybe she’s gone upstairs to check on Adele. Or back to her quarters. I couldn’t blame her for the latter. Blanche has either ignored her or put her down all evening. Made her feel excluded and inferior. How the hell have I put up with Blanche all these years? Put myself at her beck and call. Even crawled back to her in times of desperation. She’s a self-centered, opportunistic, high-maintenance bitch. She doesn’t even give good head. In retrospect, I should have convinced my godmother to call off this party. And after Blanche, the last person I wanted to socialize with was Edwina’s smarmy agent, Max Fuller, who’s wandered off stinking drunk. Another one who’s so fucking full of himself. Crass. Egotistical. So very Hollywood. He’s always rubbed me the wrong way. But I have something on him.
Blanche moves the conversation to the marketing plans for the book. The gala tribute at the Academy Museum of Motion Pictures will kick off the release. Everyone who is anyone will be there, and it will be well covered by the media. This will be followed by a coast-to-coast book tour with me accompanying Edwina. Along with appearances on talk shows, podcasts, and video chats.
I half listen. I’m totally distracted. Worried about Jane. Maybe she’s sick or something. Without making an excuse, I jump up from my seat and take long, rapid strides in the direction of the guest bathroom.
Someone has beaten me there. Max Fuller. The fat fuck is banging on the door.
“C’mon, babe. Let me in.”
Trust me, he doesn’t have to take a leak or a dump. The terrified voice behind the door confirms this. Jane’s.
“P-please go away!”
“Sweetheart, I can help you with your career. Let Daddy in.”
Daddy’snot going anywhere but down. My adrenaline raging, I sneak up behind the jackass, grab him by his collar, spin him around, and sock him so hard my knuckles burn. Stunned, he rubs the red welt on his cheek. Just for good measure, I plow my fist into him again.
He cowers, shielding his face with his stubby hands.
Still gripping his collar, I stare into his glazed, hooded eyes. Their color is similar to Jane’s, except more brown than green, and missing the gold flecks that glitter her irises.
“Don’t you ever come near her, you fucking sleazeball. Or dare touch her. She’smyproperty.”
He titters at me. “Your property? You own her?”
“Yeah. I do. I pay her.”
“To suck your dick?”
“She’s my kid’s nanny.”
“You have a kid? That’s news to me... Dadda.”
Time to make him shit in his pants. “I know your little secret. Edwina told me.”
Fear flickers in his eyes. “You’re not going to expose it, are you?”
“You’re lucky. Edwina asked me not to. She actually cares about you. I, on the other hand, don’t give a flying fuck if you rot in jail.”
“What are you saying?” he stammers.
“What I’m saying is that for all I know, you kidnapped Charlotte Mason. Maybe even killed her. You had a motive.”
“I never touched the kid. I wanted nothing to do with her. It was just a favor.”