Page 42 of Now Their Starlet

“There’s a hearing in a week and a half?” Ezra asks, his brows drawing down.

“There is; it’s the one that determines whether or not the emergency conservatorship becomes permanent.”

“That’s—that’s an important hearing.” Ezra pales. “Gina hasn’t mentioned anything about it.”

“Legally, Andi should know about it,” Everett sighs. “If this were a normal case, she’d have the right to be there, but I wouldn’t put it past Gina to try to prevent her from being there to defend herself by citing some sort of mental health complication.”

“Wouldn’t put it past her.” There’s something about the darkness that passes in Ezra’s eyes at the mention of how far Gina would go to keep Andi under her thumb that I can’t help but feel is mirrored in my own expression.

It grates against my nerves.

“Time to get your ass in gear,” I growl. “Because if you’re serious about helping, then you’re fuckin’ helping.”

His expression grows serious as his gaze cuts towards me. “Yeah, I know.”

CHAPTER 11

Andi

Gina hasn’t sat down for a single moment as Camille and a couple of extra stylists get me ready in my cell—I mean my room. She’s pacing back and forth in front of me as Camille puts the finishing touches on my dress, cinching the corset so tightly I’m not sure how I’ll be able to sit down.

It’s the same sort of dress I wore to the Grammys that night, months ago, except this time, it’s in gold instead of silver. Hopefully I won’t be bleeding all over the gold version of the dress..

I wonder how rough the cleaning bill was for the last one?

It’s covered in so many hand-embroidered beads that I’m sure it was a pain in the ass to get blood stains out.

“You will act perfect tonight, Andromeda,” Gina mutters.

Step, step, step, spin. Step, step, step, spin.

Back and forth, back and forth. She’s seriously making me dizzy.

My hair has been curled and pinned into an elegant updo, the loops of my hair resembling a flower in bloom—held up with so much hairspray, I’m surprised the strands aren’t crunchy and the makeup has been expertly applied with a liberal amount of foundation to hide my paltry complexion.

I wonder if the makeup artist was instructed to make sure I looked less anemic, because she seems to be taking more care with my makeup than she did for the charity gala.

“When I speak, I expect an answer,” Gina says, stopping in front of me and glaring up at me.

I normally have a few inches on her, but in the heels Camille has picked out for me tonight, I tower above her diminutive form.

“Yes, Mom. Picture perfect. I got it.”

“Watch your tone,” she snaps, returning to her pacing.

I have to bite my tongue to keep from snapping at her. She literally just told me to respond. The only thing I responded with was agreement.

I have a feeling I know why she’s upset.

She hasn’t mentioned anything to me directly, but I assume it’s because this whole conservatorship situation isn’t being received the way she originally intended when she was first planning it.

I’m sure Beck’s music video has something to do with it. I’m sure his fans are eating up the possibility of it containing a not-so-secret message to me. Especially the fans who didn’t mind us together.

Hell, I’m sure even the fans that hated us together are digging their claws into the situation and trying to pick it apart.

If I were braver, if I weren’t trapped under her thumb and reliant on her goodwill for even the most basic of human decencies, I would probably say something about how this whole conservatorship isn’t going the way she planned.

That’s what she gets for prioritizing Jonathan Fletcher’s bullshit agenda over her own. Maybe that will be her downfall. No matter what she does, no matter how hard she tries, there will always be a part of her that panders to dominant alphas who don’t give a shit about her.