Page 26 of Yours to Conquer

Blake’s face comes close to my face. He breathes against my ear and whispers, “You look all cozy, sidled up to Anthony Haywood. I watched you walk hand in hand around the venue today. Had I known that it was just a money thing, I’d have paid double to get into your pants.” His tongue darts out and leaves a trail of his saliva down my neck. The smell of liquor on his breath makes my stomach lurch. It takes every ounce of energy to break free of his grasp and push him away from me. In his inebriated state, he stumbles back and crashes into a table, sending wine bottles and glasses flying everywhere.

Everything from that point on seems to happen in slow motion. Anthony sees me push Blake away from me and comes rushing to my aid. Kat grabs my arm and pulls me away from the chaos. Blake is covered in wine and broken glass. Several photographers are snapping pictures rapidly. How is it that there is always paparazzi around when you least need them to be? It’s a photographer’s dream, but a celebrity’s nightmare.

Blake stands and brushes the glass from his trousers and turns on me once again. “You’re just a whore for hire,” he yells for the entire world to hear.

In the next instant, I watch as Anthony’s right hand fists up and takes the shot. His aim is dead on. Blake Havers falls flat on his ass, out cold.

Kat pulls me farther off to the side and sits me down. She must have seen the shock in my face as the scene unraveled. I try to get up to see what’s happening, but dozens of reporters are snapping pictures. This is going to be front-page news.

It doesn’t take long for security to arrive. I’m grateful when they take all of us to a small room away from prying eyes and telephoto lenses. I just created a spectacle that will generate a lot of bad press for Ahz and Anthony.

I look over at him sitting in the corner. His expression is grim, and his eyes are full of fire. He’s still pissed. The only thing keeping him under control is the paramedic looking at his hand. They seem to be checking to see if it’s broken, and I watch for any sign that the injury is more serious than it is.

I see another paramedic running smelling salts under Blake’s nose. He shoots up as if someone set his feet on fire. He looks disoriented, but as he sets his sight on me, it appears as if he has a good recollection of everything that has gone down.

I watch in horror as Blake asks to see a police officer. He is yelling that he wants to press charges. His face is mottled red as rage spews from his lips. “That whore’s new John punched me.” His hands flail around, pointing to me, and then to Anthony. “I will own you, Mr. Haywood. Everything you have will belong to me, including her. She is all about the money.”

I’d have risen myself and rushed over to punch his face if I didn’t see Anthony bolt for the man and land another direct hit. Blake Havers is silenced once again.

It takes two hours to sort through everything. Thepolice fill out many reports, including one from me accusing Blake Havers of inappropriate sexual behavior. I could’ve accused him of kidnapping the minute he wouldn’t let go of my waist and held me in place. His hands on my body can be categorized as sexual assault. They accuse Anthony of two counts of assault and battery.

In the end, we all drop the charges. It wouldn’t suit any of us, or our careers, to be in court for years. That I could press serious charges against Blake left him no choice but to drop everything.

The paramedics wrap Anthony’s hand in a bandage after stitching his right middle knuckle. It was the last blow that broke his skin. Kat has been by my side the entire time. Damon has been trying to calm Anthony down for the last half hour. The police escort us out of a back entrance so we can avoid the press. Unfortunately, they are waiting in the garage. I take Anthony’s keys, and we dash straight for the Aston Martin. There is no way he can drive with his hand all bandaged up. We take a lifetime to maneuver our way into the car. We say nothing to the reporters except, “No comment.”

I put the car in reverse and back out without hitting any cameramen. We spend the ride home in silence. I reach over and turn on the radio, only to hear the song “The Fighter” by the Gym Class Heroes playing. The irony is not lost on me. Anthony sits brooding in the passenger seat with his head leaning against the window.

“Do we need to listen to this song?” he asks.

I glance at him. I’m met with a look of fierceness that leaves chills running up my arms. I have never seen him look so angry.

“Change it to what you want. I didn’t choose it; it’s what was playing when I turned on the radio.”

He reaches over and presses another button on the car stereo. The next song that plays is “Titanium” by David Guetta. It’s as if the universe has created a playlist for our day.

I wind my way down the canyon and up the street we live on.When I pull into the garage, I barely have enough time to put the car in park before he jumps out. We are still rolling forward when he rushes out and slams the door. I’m left alone in the garage again.

I turn off the ignition and sit for a few minutes in silence. I’m scared to go into the house. My heart races, and I feel a full-blown panic attack coming on. I haven’t had one in years. My heart rate seems off, and I feel like I may die. I know I won’t, but the feeling is awful. I can’t breathe. There is an immense weight on my chest. My mouth is dry, and yet I’m sweating profusely. The scared feeling that overwhelms me is paralyzing.

There has been so much stress the last few days, and it’s taking its toll on Anthony. The look on his face reminded me of my dad when my mom disappointed him. I understand he isn’t my dad and isn’t going to respond as my dad would, but it’s hard not to go to that place.

What I want to do is run to Kat’s house. It would’ve been my natural response to a crisis. However, I can’t run away anymore, so I take a few deep breaths and inhale and exhale slowly. Once I get my breathing under control, I square my shoulders and exit the car. This situation isn’t going away on its own.

I trudge into the quiet house and walk over to the sink to get a glass of water. I don’t need to turn around to know Anthony’s in the room, but as soon as I do, I see him looming over me. His expression is one of unadulterated anger.

“What the hell happened, Emma?”

I walk past him, not liking how he is trying to intimidate me. I’ve never seen this side of him. He’s acting like a bully, and I did nothing to deserve his wrath.

“What do you mean, what happened? I didn’t do anything except push Blake away. He was inappropriate, and he licked my damn face. I tried to get him to loosen his grip on me. He wouldn’t let me go, so I had to push him hard. He was drunk, and he stumbled backward. He hit the table and sent everything crashing.”

“Did you sleep with him?” he yells. I don’t know if I’m more surprised by the question or the tone of his voice. It’s not a question. He thinks I slept with Blake.

I can’t even think at this point. My world is crumbling around me. I knew things were going too well for too long. I stare at Anthony for a second and turn to walk away.

“Don’t you walk away from me,” he yells louder. “You can’t run from this, Emma. The man publicly called you a whore. I have to ask myself why a man would do that?”

The tears are stinging my eyes as they pour down my cheeks. “If you have to ask that question, then you don’t know me. I thought you were coming to defend my honor today, but you were just worried about your reputation. I was so convinced you were the one. I could never love someone who has so little faith in me. Screw you, Anthony. You’re just as big of an asshole as Blake Havers.”

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