Page 109 of Holding The Reins

I can feel Andrew on my heels as I round the corner for the rest room.

“Cecilia,” Andrew calls

I spin around in the dark hallway. Red neon glow of the rest room signs light it.

“I can’t believe you brought them here!” I whisper-yell. “Did you put them up to that ridiculous little speech too?”

“Someone needs to talk some sense into you, CeCe. The reason I sold the condo is to give you what you’ve always wanted. I’m buying a house in Lawrenceville.” He mentions a nearby town in the suburbs. “Where you’ve always wanted. I want to settle down, raise a family together. I know now how wrong I was, how I was even wrong to come to Laurel Creek when I wasn’t ready to give you everything you wanted then.”

Am I having a stroke?

“Andrew, we’re over. I’m not coming back here. I have a life, a job, my friends, I’m closer to my mom than I have been in years and I’ll never trust you. Not to mention—I don’t love you.”

Andrew steps forward, his signature Burberry scent fills my nostrils. I used to love it, now it makes me queasy. He places his hands on either side of me against the wall.

“Yes, you do. You don’t mean that. I miss you, doll, and I’m done being nice. You’re coming back to me whether you want to or not. I always get my way, tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen,” he whispers.

I shudder. I should’ve known by that nickname. That’s all I was—his trophy, his doll.

I panic. My mind reels as I come to terms with the reality that he did all of this to get me here, and I wonder briefly if signing in person with Gary was even a necessity.

Andrew has lost his fucking mind if he thinks he’s going to touch me. I quickly run through my plan of kneeing him in the balls like Ginger said and escaping out the front door before he can follow me. I’d have to go to a hotel—

“Not one more fucking step.” I’m having an out of body experience as I hear Nash’s voice from behind Andrew.

I turn to meet Nash’s eyes and my mouth falls open. He’s dressed in all black, his dark hair hangs over his forehead and the vines inked on his neck creep out from under his hoodie. He looks sinister and he looks like he’s about to kill Andrew.

Andrew turns and registers the shock of seeing him there, but then he grins. Cocky on his own turf. “Of course he is here.” He says to me then turns back to face Nash.

“This is between me and my fiancée,” His hand reaches down to touch my face but I manage to duck out of the way and dart out of his grasp, hiding behind the safety of Nash.

I don’t care why he’s here or how he knew where to find me, only that I’m glad he is.

He was right all along. Andrew lied to me to get me here so he could try to pressure me into coming back to him. I’m convinced he doesn’t even care about me. He just cares about winning.

Nash wastes no time. He moves toward Andrew and wraps a large hand around his throat, pinning him against the wall, and lifting him with one hand until his toes graze the floor.

Andrew claws meekly at him and grunts.

“I don’t think you quite understand all the ways I’d be happy to hurt you. I’ve been fucking dreaming of them.”

“Lawsuit…” Andrew bites out

Nash chuckles evilly. “You’re such a fucking pussy. I told you that you would never see CeCe again without me. Now I’m telling you that this is the last time you’ll ever see her.” He uses his spare hand to clap Andrew twice on the face. Hard. “You’re going to meet her truck tomorrow to send her things to Kentucky, 9:30, got it, Drew? And if you ever call her your fiancée again, I’ll rip your fucking tongue out with my bare hand.”

Andrew struggles for breath, his red face quickly darkening. A moment passes and I fear Nash may not let him go, but just as I open my mouth to say something he drops a gasping, purple Andrew to the ground and turns around, grabbing my hand, and pulls me toward the door, tossing a hundred-dollar bill on a table on the other side of the restaurant from where Andrew and I were sitting. I look back at it over my shoulder and register that he’s been here the whole time.

Nash walks quickly, I scamper behind him, the anger radiating off of him. He speaks quietly and calmly to me in the rain. “The first thing you’re going to do is call that fucking lawyer in the morning and tell him you want a separate appointment from Andrew to sign and I’ll go with you.”

“Nash—”

“And you’re not staying one more night in that fucking condo.”

“Nash—“

“You’ll stay with me at the Four Seasons.”

“Nash!” I yell

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