Page 44 of Worth Every Moment
I leap out of the car, rushing back down the pavement to where I’m sure I saw Erica. I dodge through passersby, weaving my way towards her. There are tears streaming down her face. I’ve never seen her look like this. Harassed. Distraught. Out of her fucking mind, worse than when we fought in the gallery. That she’d let it happen in public is even more concerning.What the hell just happened?
People are slowing down to stare at her, not only because she’s clearly in distress, but because it’sErica Lefroyin distress.
Through the crowd, her eyes latch onto mine.
Her footing stumbles as recognition, panic, and relief flood over her features. But then she stiffens, half turning away like she means to run from me.
A few strides takes me to her, and I grip her shoulder. She turns, her wide, dark eyes meeting mine, sharing the depth of her desperation in an instant. I don't need her to tell me she needs me. I can read it on her face. I pull her towards me and she collapses against my chest, shaking fingers gripping my shirt.
“Shit, Erica,” I mutter against her hair. “What happened?”
People are calling out her name, staring at us. Erica pulls away, but her fingers remain twisted in my shirt, eyes flashing panic as she realises the crowd is closing in.
“I have the car.” I nod where the vehicle is still idling, hazard lights flashing. “Come with me.”
She gives my shirt a gentle tug. “Who… who’s in the car?” Her voice breaks.
What?“No one. The driver.”
“No other women?”
Shit.If it were anyone else, the question would be a joke, and I’d crack a joke in response. But this isn’t a joke, not leastbecause it’sEricaand the last time I saw her she was screaming at me in the gallery, and now she’s standing here in the street with tears running down her face, looking at me like I caused them. Nothing about this is funny, and the tension is so thick and cold that you could crack it like ice. At the sight of her, something topples inside me, pieces scattering like a house of cards.
She might have hurt me, but I hurt her too.Badly.
Before I can answer, someone yells her name and we both look up to find multiple mobile phones pointed in our direction. A Vespa draws up alongside us, and the guy on the back hops off, equipped with a great big fuck off camera. I didn’t even know they did that anymore. Proper 90s-style paparazzi.
“Erica! Give us a smile,” he calls. Wrenching out of my arms, she turns to him, mascara streaking down her face as he points the camera and clicks. She stalks towards him, looking like she’s going to murder him. And if she does, the whole thing will be caught on camera.I can’t let her do this.
I catch up to her in a couple of steps, tucking her behind me in one swift move.
“Mate, you’re blocking Lefroy,” the photographer says, lowering the camera. I step closer and put my hand over the lens. “Oi!” he yells, trying to snatch it away, but I wrap my other hand around the body of the camera. He’s a little guy, and he won’t be able to fight me for it.
“Delete the photos and get back on your fucking bike right now, and you can keep the camera,” I growl.
“Fuck off, mate. This camera’s worth thousands, and the photographs—”
I yank the camera from his grasp and smash it to the ground. “Wrong choice.” I offer him a compensatory mock grimace.
He squeaks like a mouse having its entrails ripped out, whimpering over the shattered camera as he sinks to the groundto pick up the pieces. I scoop it up before he can, flipping it around until I find the memory card, which I slide out and put in my pocket. I hand him back the ruined camera and he cradles it like treasure. I’m about to walk away, but because I don’t want to be a total dick about it, and the guy looks like he’s about to weep, I undo my watch and slip it off my wrist, holding it out to him. “Here.”
He stares up at me, confused, and I shake the watch at him, but he still doesn’t take it, so I bend down and tuck it into the pocket on the front of his shirt, and tap it. “It’s Cartier. This is your best work day this year. Now, fuck off.”
I straighten to find people staring and filming me, while Erica still stands behind me. I can’t very well smash every phone on Harley Street, so I put my arm around her, using my body to shield her from everyone.
I pull her close and whisper, “Get in the car. I’ll take you wherever you need to go. There are no other women in there, I swear.”
She relaxes and allows me to usher her to the waiting Bentley. I open the back door, waiting for her to get in before closing it and moving around to the other side to get in myself.
Inside the car, the sound of people calling Erica’s name is muted, and the air is cool.
“Go,” I instruct the driver.
“Where to?” he asks.
I look at Erica. “Where do you want to go?”
She glances at me through thick lashes, and her chin trembles like she’s on the cusp of breaking down.Fuck. She shakes her head like she has no idea.
