The Siren, KATHERINE JOHN [positive books to read .txt] 📗

video of Power laughing at her as she fell into a puddle came to light. Then last night influencer/actress Madison Kasabian posted a selfie kissing Cole Power. The kiss was on the cheek(!) but has everyone speculating that Power has turned his attention to his younger costar, leaving Rivers out in the cold. Looks like the beleaguered Rivers is once again drowning her sorrows.

Taylor

Far too early the morning after Coco’s, I awoke feeling as though a bomb had gone off in my head. Burning rage toward Cole mixed with the lingering effects of alcohol and lust for Rick made a firestorm that set my heart racing. I tossed and turned, fully aware I needed to sleep as late as humanly possible in preparation for our night shoot that evening, but it was no use.

At some point I gave in to the idea that going back to sleep wasn’t going to happen and lounged half-conscious in bed with the blackout shades drawn, alternately reliving my kiss with Rick and imagining confronting Cole. I would be devastating, ripping apart his ideas about who he was and how the world saw him. I would write a scathing article exposing his true nature, which would turn the public against him, and he would be out in the cold where he belonged—if only I could prove what he’d done…and I were brave enough. Around midmorning, the Tilt-A-Whirl of emotions gave way to a caffeine headache that forced me out of my cocoon to make a cup of coffee.

I took my mug outside and settled on a shaded lounger overlooking the miles and miles of turquoise sea. The day was still and bright, and a delicious breeze blew off the water. Next door, Brian and two other guys were having a contest to see who could jump farthest off the bungalow balcony into the sea, while overhead the gulls called to one another. I had to admit the place was growing on me, and not only because of a certain tall, dark stranger. That bioluminescent bay last night had been mind-blowing of its own accord. And the kiss…

I distracted myself from the cocktail of desire and rage coursing through my veins by opening the real estate app Rick had told me about and scrolling through homes on Saint Ann while allowing the morning sun to caress my lily-white legs. Obviously I wasn’t looking to move to the islands, but it was crazy to see what I’d be able to afford if I were so inclined. For the price of my condo, I could buy a beachfront home twice its size and have money left to furnish it beautifully. It was fun to daydream, anyway. Gave me a reprieve from the shit storm that was being in the employ of Cole Power.

Fuck Cole Power. The very thought of him made me want to scream in fury. I yearned to feel my fist smash into his perfect jaw.

Once my legs were sufficiently pink, I indulged in a lingering shower, allowing the hot water to loosen the muscles in my sore lower back. I was dragging. Last night, Rick, Jackson, Felicity, and I had sat out on the porch of Stella and Felicity’s bungalow talking for far too long after Rick carried Stella home and installed her in bed. Jackson strummed a guitar, playing songs we could all sing along to while fish jumped out in the water. Rick and I had played it cool in front of them, of course, and Jackson had walked out with us when we finally left, so I couldn’t exactly invite him in. It was better that way, anyway. I needed to keep it in the road—and after the realization that Cole had likely drugged me, I was preoccupied to say the least.

When I’d asked Jackson why he’d agreed to let his father finance his film, he grimaced. “He wanted me to believe he’d changed, that he wanted a relationship with his son, and this was his way of making up for all the years of prioritizing his career and women and—hell, anything—above me. I accepted on that premise.” He swirled the rum in the bottom of his glass, then downed it. “I’m not an idiot though. I knew the chances he’d somehow done a one-eighty when I wasn’t looking were slim, but I figured the one thing my father can give me is a career. I’ll take it.” He cut his eyes toward the bedroom where Stella slept. “But not if it comes at someone else’s expense.”

We all agreed that we clearly couldn’t allow Cole to go around drugging people and God knows what else, but I insisted that we hold off making any decisions until we consulted with Stella in the morning. I longed to share my undeniably similar blackout experience, but I knew it would likely be the final straw, and selfishly, I didn’t want Jackson to pull the plug on the film for the sake of my own welfare.

I was ashamed of my cowardice; I admired women who called out their abusive bosses and sorely wished I were brave enough to join their ranks. But I knew if I spoke out against Cole, my prior alleged indiscretions would resurface and no one would believe me. And regardless of whether I spoke out, if I left Power Pictures I’d be jobless again, with nothing to show for these torturous months working for Cole—and no prospects.

Neither of these options was in the least bit appetizing; hence my escapist fantasy of looking at property on Saint Ann. I’d never really considered living in a small town, let alone on an island—and hadn’t actually spent any time on Saint Ann, of course. But that didn’t stop me from dreaming up a fictitious life on what (according to Rick) was an idyllic Caribbean island with a population of nearly 100,000, a lively town center, and a state-of-the-art hospital. I could…I wasn’t sure what I could do; all my job skills were film-related. Maybe I’d