“What? Who told you that?”
“The bitch with the tiara!” I cry, so loudly that a large portion of the crowd turns to face us. The music falters and then everybody is staring at us, some of them sneering. Their eyes sear into me, embarrassment stinging me. “Just, let me go…please.”
I turn and hurry for the door.
I push it open and run down the stairs, taking them several at a time, almost tripping at one point. I just have to get out of here.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Santiago
The bitch with the tiara.
I look at the room in general, at all the guests, all of whom have stopped what they’re doing to watch mine and Scarlett’s argument. Many of them have their cameras out, unashamedly recording me just so that they can get some small measure of internet clout. I scan their faces and then spot her…
Charmaine Harrison, socialite and self-starver, the woman who has tried to seduce me more times than I can count. I walk across the room with fire surging around my body, willing me to snap the table in half and toss it out the window in my fury.
“What did you say to her?” I snap.
“Oh, just a few white lies,” she says airily. “Poor girl, she was so easily tricked. I said you found girls like her all the time, that she was just the latest in a long line.”
“Which we both know is bullshit.”
“Well…fine, who cares? Are you sure that’s the sort of woman you want to choose as your partner, Santiago?”
I take a step back, looking at her, feeling nothing but boredom and regret. There’s nothing interesting about this woman. She’s not even exciting enough to hate. She’s a microscopic speck of insignificance compared to the blazing star my Scarlett is.
“Scarlett is worth a thousand of you, Charmaine. A million. You’re an idiot if you ever thought a pathetic lie like that could come between us.”
I turn to the whole room, raising my voice. “This is something all of you should fucking hear. That woman’s name is Scarlett and she’s the best person I’ve ever met. Go ahead.” I wave at the guests who clutch onto their phones, cameras aimed at me. “Record this moment. Good! I want the world to know. Scarlett is going to be the mother of my child. She means everything to me. And I don’t care who knows it.”
I pound across the room, my footsteps so heavy that several of the champagne glasses tremble on the table. On my way to the door, I spot the CEO of a rival media company, making a beeline toward me. I shoot him a withering look and he crumples like a cheap suit.
Finally, I kick open the door and charge down the stairs, already forgetting the idiots and the social-climbers I left behind at the gala. The only thing I regret is not being able to cut the ribbon, but I’ll make up for that with a donation treble the amount the gala would’ve produced in total.
I sprint across the lobby and out onto the street. A light rain has started to fall, pitter-pattering onto the roofs of the cars and causing the city lights to glisten brightly. I look up and down the street, terrified that Scarlett has just disappeared into the night.
I should have gone after her right away.
But then, thankfully, I spot her. She’s stood across the street under the eaves of the opposite hotel, her cell phone held to her ear. I jog across and stop mere inches from her, hating the tears that scour down her cheeks.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Calling a cab,” she snaps. “What else would I be doing? I’ve got no business being here, clearly.”
“Scarlett,” I say. “That woman’s a damn liar. She’s been trying to seduce me for years. It’s pathetic. She’s mean and cruel and nothing compared to you. Please, hang up and we can talk about this. Honesty…remember?”
She blinks away tears, rubbing at her cheeks. “Wait, so she was lying?”
“Of course,” I growl, closing the distance between us. I envelop her in my embrace, putting my hands in her hair. “I’ve never felt like this before. You’re one of a kind. You’re worth a million of her, Scarlett. When are you going to start believing me?”
“It’s hard,” she whispers.
“Because of what happened to you,” I guess.
“Y-yeah,” she says. “S-sorry. I used to have a stutter as a kid.” She takes a deep breath. “S-Sometimes it gets bad. When I’m upset.”
“You don’t have to apologize for that,” I tell her. “What happened, Scarlett? Who tricked you?”
“I-I’ve never told anybody before,” she whispers, as the rain smack-smack-smacks on the eaves above us, getting heavier now. “I never dreamed I’d find a person I felt comfortable enough to share it with.”
“You can share it with me,” I assure her. I bring my lips to her rain-scented hair and kiss it softly, and then inhale deeply. I want to inhale every part of her. Her soul, her body, her life, all of it belongs to me…as mine belongs to her. “I’m always here for you.”
She leans back in my embrace slightly, frowning up at me. I feel a visceral stabbing in my chest, like a lance has been smashed into my ribcage, when I see the way her eyes sparkle with oncoming tears. “It’s so silly,” she whispers. “You’ll probably think I’m just being melodramatic.”
“Never.” I touch her cheek, wiping away the warm tears. “Tell me.”
She clears her throat. “Well, I’m an orphan. I grew up in an orphanage just outside the city, and there was this boy there. His name was Henry and he was a few years older than me. You have to understand, Santiago, I was a really nervous kid. I was the sort of kid who just wanted to run away to the library like a complete dork.”
I laugh deeply.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, not you,” I assure her, kissing her salty cheeks. “It’s just I was the same. I was a bookish child, too.”
She scoffs. “Was that before or after you became a billionaire boxer?”
“Before.”
I wink, and she giggles despite her tears. The sad-happy sound sends chords of satisfaction thrumming through me. I’d kill a thousand men just to make her laugh like that for the rest of our lives.
“I don’t think you need to be ashamed of being that sort of child. That’s all I’m saying. It’s just one more thing we have in common.”
She lays her head against my chest. “That’s true. I never thought of it that way before.”
“But you were saying…”
She looks up at me, a cheeky smile spreading like delectable chocolate across her scrumptious cheeks. “I sort of just want to stay like this now, listening to your heartbeat. Is that cheesy?”
“Yes,” I laugh gruffly, tickling her playfully under the arm. But then I have to snatch my hand away quickly, because brushing the orbs of her breasts is enough to snap any civilized notions I might have in my head in half. “Finish your story.”
“Is that an order, boss?” she sasses.
“You can bet your fine fucking ass it is. Now.”
“Okay.” Her smile falters, and then drops. She looks up at me. “So basically Henry, he knew a victim when he saw one. I don’t like to think of myself that way, but that’s how I was, back then. He told me he thought I was beautiful. He told me I was different to the other girls…and then he gave me an address, saying I should go there for a surprise.”
She swallows, her throat shifting around with a ball of regret. “I was completely suckered in, because nobody had even shown me attention before.”
“Good,” I snarl, already hating this Henry fucker. My experienced mind all too easily throws up the final destination of this vicious tale. “That means you were left unspoiled for me.”
“Oh, I know, right?” She smiles. “I’m so happy about that, too. But back then I didn’t have the silver lining, only the cloud. I went to this address. It was a hotel. I thought, maybe they’re having a party or something. But when I got there, it was just Henry with a video camera. He told me I was a slut and all I was good for was shooting a porno with him. He said I was so ugly, he
wanted to put a pillowcase over my head when he did it.
“I left as soon as I snapped to my senses, but that wasn’t as quick as it should’ve been. It gave him plenty of time to call me names, to say a bunch of mean stuff. When I opened the door to get the heck outta there, he even grabbed my arm.”
I take a few steps back, feeling my knuckles press against the taut skin of my hands as I clench my fists, my temples tight with murderous fury. I turn and leap at the streetlamp, ducking my head low like in my boxing days, twisting my whole body into the punches.
Clang-clang-clang, the metal whines as I punch it as hard as I can. I don’t feel any pain, just the righteous hatred for this Henry prick. Dimly, I can hear Scarlett shouting my name, but the image of that mongrel insulting my queen is too vivid in my mind.
I only stop when the streetlamp makes a high-pitched whining noise. I step back, blood dripping from my knuckles, as the supporting metal pole bends sideways and starts to collapse in the street.
Fuck.
“Oh, God,” Scarlett whimpers behind me.
I turn and grab her quickly, dragging her into a nearby doorway as the streetlamp collapses like a drunken man. Luckily, it lands in the middle of the road, missing the cars and adjacent buildings. I quickly run into the road, kick the base to snap off the remaining metal, and then drag it to the side of the road so that no unsuspecting vehicles run into it.
Then I take out my phone and tell one of my trusted men what happened, so that he can sort it with the city authorities.
When I turn back to Scarlett, she’s gaping at me, her mouth hanging open. I try to laugh away my savage anger, but it comes out as a strangled growl.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I just can’t stand the idea of him doing that to you.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she says, walking up to me and clutching onto my wrists. She raises her hands to get a better look at my knuckles. “Silly Santiago. Look what you’ve done to yourself.”
“I couldn’t help it,” I snarl. “That man doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same oxygen as you. You’re my princess, Scarlett. Nobody fucking speaks that way to my princess.”
“This was before we met,” she says, stroking my back as though she suspects I might go feral again. Which I might. My heart thunders as if Thor’s hammer is smashing against the organ. “And it’s over. It’s in the past.”
“It doesn’t matter when it happened,” I growl. “We’re destined to be together. Always.”
“I know,” she whispers. “Oh, Santiago, I feel like such an idiot for believing that silly woman.”
“Don’t. I can see why you did now.”
“But you’re not Henry,” she says, wrapping her arms around my waist and standing on her tiptoes, finding my lips. “And I…Santiago, I…”
I love you.
Is she going to say it?
“I’m so happy you listened to me.”
I try to ignore the way my chest falls, weighted down with disappointment. Soon, I’m going to have to tell her. But learning about what curdled shit stain Henry did to her makes me second-guess myself, where usually I’m as certain as a bullet from a gun. If I push things too quickly, she might think I’m tricking her, like he did. And I’ve startled her already.
“Me too,” I growl, kissing her cool forehead, the closeness of her body making the pain from my bleeding knuckles a distant, insignificant thing.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Scarlett
I wake up early the next morning, but even so, Santiago is already gone. Last night, after he beat the living hell out of that streetlamp, we came back here and devoured each other with a carnality that made me more certain than ever that he is my forever man.
I almost told him I loved him last night, which would’ve been a colossal mistake.
But the way he listened about Henry, and his ferocious reaction, proved to me that he’s the man to protect me from all the evil in the world.
He’s going to be an amazing father. I’d love to see somebody try to bother one of our kids with Santiago around…not. Because it would be a bad, bad day for them.
As I get ready for work, I go on the internet and watch the video clip of Santiago telling the whole world that we belong together. I clutch my hot cocoa and sit on my sunlit balcony, looking over the city, breathing in the deep scent of chocolate.
Maybe everything could really be okay. Maybe he’ll tell me he loves me. I just have to be patient.
Or, is it possible, have I scared him away with that story from my childhood? Maybe he was angry, not because of what Henry did to me, but because he’s chosen somebody so gullible, so immature.
I shake my head, trying to disarm the too-potent thoughts, but they linger like reeking odors nonetheless. My writer’s imagination is like a hamster on a wheel, sprinting and sprinting with no break in sight.
I go into the bedroom, into the walk-in closet, and choose a pencil skirt and shirt for myself. Adjusting the clothes in the mirror, I let my eyes rove over the undulating curves of my body. Before, I would’ve felt the cold sting of self-consciousness at the sight. But now, with Santiago assuring me every moment that I’m his ideal woman, I let myself smile.
Walking down into the street, I head for the bus stop. I know I could have one of Santiago’s men drive me to work, but I don’t want to rub my co-workers’ faces in the relationship. I know that that’s going to be difficult now with the video out there for all to see, but the least I can do is try and be as modest as possible.
But as I ride the bus and look out on the city, I can’t help but let my mind drift back to the desk in my study at home.
At home.
The fact that I’m able to think about the apartment Santiago has given me as home so soon is just blistering proof that our desire goes beyond the short-term.
As the bus stops at a red light, I look into the faces of the passersby and create stories about them.
The single mother with the raggedy blue denim shirt works as a bartender on the side…only, at her place of employment, her boss is laundering money for a low-rent drug dealer.
Or the homeless man with the army of trash bags thrown over his shoulder…he’s really a police operative and, any second now, he’s going to drop the bags and sprint into the nearby bar to apprehend his perp.
A smile makes the lower half of my face glow.
What if I really could be a writer?
When I finally get to my small cubicle in the corner of the junior copywriter room, I sit down and place my bag on the floor, next to my chair. I wheel my chair forward and open my laptop, unable to stop myself from glancing up to see if Santiago is coming down to visit.
But Santiago is always busy during working hours, which I’ll never resent him for. He’s built the most moral, incorruptible media company in the world…which is just all the more impressive because it’s made him so incredibly wealthy.
I sit back in my chair, letting my hands fall over my belly, feeling for the subtle twitches in my womb that lets me know his irrepressible seed has taken root.
“Thinking about your lover man, eh?” Jackie scowls, leaning over the side of the cubicle. Jackie is a fellow copywriter with sharp cheekbones and a chest tattoo that just about peaks up onto her neck. “Don’t look so lost, Scarlett. Everybody’s seen the video. Half the copywriters in this place have been trying to work out how to crack that case.”
“What are you talking about?” I whisper, embarrassment tinging me. I sense people all around eavesdropping on the conversation.
Jackie laughs grimly. She places her bony hands on the cubicle’s wall, her veins ridged and blue and cold-looking. “Oh, come on,” she says. “You somehow managed to trick Santiago Sasso into defending your honor at a charity gala…a gala most of us would suck him off just to get a ticket to. I’ve got to give it to you, girlfriend, you know how to play the game.”
“This isn’t a game,” I snap, jumping to my feet. I take a step back, tears threatening to wel
l up in my eyes. I blink them away and force them down. “Santiago and I…we’re…”
In love. Just say it. It’s the truth.
“We’re none of your business,” I yell.
Jackie shrugs, backing away. “Hey, you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do to get ahead.”
“It’s not like that,” I hiss. “This isn’t a freaking career move, Jackie. We’re more than that. What we have for each other, you’d never be able to understand. Nobody would, apart from us.”
I turn, stopping only to pick up my bag, and then race from the room as fast as my legs will carry me.
I can hardly think as I push open the door and surge down the stairwell, my head is so fuzzy.
Everybody has clearly been talking behind my back, twisting things, making up stories about me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Santiago
“One of the other copywriters made a comment,” Marybeth says, fiddling with her golden wedding ring, her grey hair falling across her forehead. “Something about your relationship being a way to get ahead in the office.”
I grip the edge of the table, hands trembling so much it jostles up and down on its legs. I only manage to keep myself calm because Marybeth, a loyal employee whose husband I’m friends with, is standing right there. It was a miracle nobody or nothing got hurt last night when I pommeled that streetlamp.
First Henry, now this.
“Fire the copywriter,” I snarl.
Marybeth flinches, uncertainty flashing in her eyes. “Sir, are you sure?”
Fuck.
I want to tell her that of course I’m sure, but our company doesn’t have a policy of instantly firing people for disputes of this kind. There are rules in place, a three-strike system, human resources. If I just outright fired her, I’d be corrupting the principles of fairness and honesty upon which my billion-dollar empire is built…and I just know that Scarlett would never forgive me for that, just as I’d never forgive myself. She values integrity just as much as me.
“File a report,” I snap. “This copywriter needs to know how unacceptable this is. Be stern.”
Mr. CEO: An Instalove Possessive Alpha Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 160) Page 6
