Page 92 of Fake Dating Daxton Hawk
“What happened?”
I pass Amabella my phone and she gasps upon reading Tom’s messages. “My God, Daxton, you have to stop him.”
“How? Neither Tom or Jordan will answer my calls. I don’t know how to find them.”
Another message alert goes off.
“That’s him again.” Amabella passes the phone back to me.
Tom Sanders
How’s the grand opening in LA? Wish I could be there but I’m too busy picking up the pieces of your girlfriend’s broken heart. I’m enjoying wining and dining her in your restaurant. I can’t wait to take her upstairs and fuck her again in one of your rooms. She couldn’t keep her hands off me last night. Such a tight pussy. An even tighter ass.
I’m seeing red. Before I have a chance to break any of the furniture in my rage, I storm out the door.
“Dax, where are you going?” Amabella calls, following me into the corridor.
I press the elevator button. “He’s downstairs. I’m going to fuck him up.”
“What? No! You’re angry. This could turn bad quickly.”
“Yeah, that’s the plan.”
“Daxton—”
The elevator opens and I step inside. “Amabella, please stay out of this. Go back inside to Ally.” The doors slide shut and she’s out of sight.
Six levels feels like the longest elevator ride in history. The whole journey, I’m stewing in jealousy and anger. I don’t know what to believe about the claims in Tom’s last message. A large part of me is convinced he’s lying about having slept with Jordan just to mess with me. But I also don’t know how Jordan is acting right now. She deposited all the money I paid her back into my account. What if she agreed to escort him because she’s desperate for money and this time she sleeps with him? I can’t allow Jordan to be placed in that position, with Sanders of all people.
The elevator opens and I rush into the restaurant, scanning the venue for Tom. Jordan catches my attention first, seated at a table in the middle of the restaurant with him. I stalk through the crowd of dining guests, past the pianist playing gentle music, and punch Tom side-on in the head before he sees the blow coming. Everyone around us gasps as he’s knocked off his chair to the ground.
“Daxton!” Jordan shouts, standing from the table. “What are you doing?”
I’m too angry to reply and instead turn my attention to Tom lying on the ground. “I told you to stay the fuck away from my girlfriend. Don’t use her because you’re trying to destroy me. And don’t you dare speak about her the way you did in those messages.”
Jordan eyes me suspiciously. “What are you talking about?”
Tom sits up, growling at me. “You stole the Quinn deal from me.”
“I never stole shit from you.”
Jordan scoffs and grabs her handbag off the table, then says to Tom, “I knew your job offer was too good to be true. Your business partners aren’t meeting us for dinner, are they?”
He laughs, rubbing his bruised cheek but doesn’t answer her. Tom rises to his feet with all his focus on me. “The Quinn deal was mine and you know it—”
Jordan cuts him off. “Are you opening a cabaret club or was that a lie—”
“Daxton, shut your bitch up or I will. How dumb can she get?”
My fist smashes into Tom’s jaw and he falls to the ground again.
From my peripheral, I see Jordan head for the restaurant exit right as security arrives to inspect the scene. Glaring down at Tom, I contemplate whether to kick him in the ribs, until I realize he’s crying. Fucking pathetic.
“Next time you talk about my girl like that, I’ll kill you.” I turn to the two security guards beside me. “Escort this man out of here and make sure he never steps foot in this hotel again.”
“Yes, sir,” they say in unison as I follow Jordan.
Noticing me trailing her, she walks faster, so I jog to catch up to her.
