Silas took each porch step with an authority I’d come to anticipate, his taut torso flexing under his black T-shirt. Despite the uncharacteristic dirt smudges on the knees of his blue jeans and the one swept across his right cheekbone, I’d never been more attracted to him than in this moment. He slipped off his grass-covered work gloves and extended a hand to Ethan. “Hello, I’m Silas Whittaker. And you are?”
Ethan looked from Silas to me, his eyebrow cocked, as if waiting for me to dismiss the intruder at my side. But that was never going to happen.
“This is a private business matter,” Ethan said coldly.
But Silas shifted his stance and pressed a hand to my lower back, silently drawing my attention to his face, to his eyes that swore an oath of loyalty without ever speaking a word. “Would you like me to stay, Molly?”
“Yes, I would.” I stepped closer to his side, grateful for the clarity his presence offered. “Silas, this is Ethan Carrington. My talent manager.” And the ex-boyfriend I’d hoped you’d never have to meet.
As if I hadn’t spoken, Ethan’s gaze remained only on me, ignoring Silas completely.
“You’re smarter than this, Molly. Think about your future for longer than a minute. You have a million-dollar career at stake here. Are you really willing to throw that away?”
His implication as to what—or whom—I was throwing my career away on was crystal clear.
“I’ve made my decision.”
Silas’s presence offered me strength as Ethan’s neck flushed red. “That’s a mistake. Likely the biggest one you’ll ever make.”
“I think it’s time for you to leave, Mr. Carrington,” Silas said in that same assured temperament.
“Actually, it’s not. Not quite yet, anyway.” Ethan reached into his satchel, and Silas immediately pushed me behind him.
“Whoa there, compadre.” Ethan lifted his hands. “I’m just reaching for the paperwork I came to deliver to my former client.” He thrust a manila envelope in my direction. “These were drawn up by Cobalt’s legal team, to be served on the chance we couldn’t reach an agreement.”
A tremor of fear swept over me as I took the envelope and bent the gold brad at the back flap. The document on top of the crisp stack read Cease and Desist.
“What is this?”
“A cease and desist letter,” he said through a thick fog of arrogance.
“But why? What’s it for?” I skimmed the paragraphs referencing Makeup Matters with Molly, unclear at some of the jargon. It didn’t make sense.
“It’s an immediate stop order regarding use of my brand.” He wore the cold, heartless gaze of a manager who was ready to cut his losses.
His brand?
“This letter isn’t viable,” Silas said, reading over my shoulder and addressing Ethan in his most lawyerly tone.
Ethan’s offensive chuckle made it clear he thought Silas couldn’t take him up on the challenge.
“Your company has delivered a C and D order for what is considered intellectual property. As an agency, you have no authority or jurisdiction over the handle of her social media platforms.”
I smiled at Ethan’s obvious surprise as Silas continued to flip through the paperwork. “Oh, I forgot to mention—Silas is also my legal representation.”
“Well.” Ethan’s overconfident voice broke through my moment of victory. “As he’ll see on page five, Makeup Matters with Molly is a registered Cobalt Group brand. And the followers, platforms, videos, photo shoot campaigns, and sponsored posts that bear that brand are, too. All of it belongs to us.”
“No way. That’s . . . that’s absurd. Ridiculous,” I said, shaking my head as I glanced up at Silas, who was studying the paperwork with an intensity I could feel. “That can’t be true. I already had a growing platform when I signed with you.”
“You did, but that platform wasn’t under the name Makeup Matters with Molly, nor was it singularly focused on fashion and beauty. You were all over the place back then. I made you what you are—or I should say, what you were.”
My mind scrolled back in time to memories of long conversations on expensive swivel chairs around oval tables, to dining in VIP lounges with Mr. Greggorio and Ethan, to brainstorming new and improved marketing techniques based on proven trends. To the day I went from Made-Up with Molly to Makeup Matters with Molly.
“Then I’ll fight it. I’ll take you to court. It’s my name and my face on those posts and videos. You don’t own me.”
“You’d be surprised at what I own,” Ethan said, as if he’d expected such an argument from me. “But I can assure you, court will be a waste of your time and money. You won’t be taken seriously, as you’ve violated your contract multiple times over the past few months. The first, by contacting your sponsors directly and asking them to support a personal cause.” He pointed to Silas. “You’ll find that highlighted on page eight. There’s a full rundown of the ways Molly has breached her contract with Cobalt and failed to meet multiple professional expectations.” And then to me he said, “You won’t have a chance, especially considering the cause you’ve invited my sponsors to fund is a youth home currently under investigation for assault and battery.”
His words nearly plowed me over. “What? No. That’s not even true! How do you even know anything about that?”
“Molly,” Silas said in a resigned voice so low I almost didn’t hear it through the pounding in my ears.
“But he’s wrong—about everything.” I pointed an accusatory finger in Ethan’s face. “You’ve twisted everything. Silas, tell him!”
But Silas didn’t tell him. Instead, he lowered the paperwork and gripped my arm at the elbow, as if there was nothing else to be discussed or done. As if this was over, all my failures bound inside a manila envelope.
Ethan closed the flap of his satchel and moved down the porch steps.
