Page 160 of The Renegade Billionaire
“We need to set up a neighborhood watch or something so fuckface turdroaster doesn’t mess with our station again.”
“Braxton.” I laugh. “This isn’t the Olympics. We’re not vying for gold. The prize is a freaking silver cup that is half teacup and half coffee mug. It’s so ugly, people fight over which side belongs to coffee and which side belongs to tea.”
“It’s the principle behind it. I did my research, and I know this event is about community, not the caffeine drink of choice. It’s about bringing people together, celebrating each other, and simply having a good fucking day with our neighbors.” His voice is raised with anger and passion, and I kind of melt a little because he’s mine.
He chose me.
A slow, annoying clap draws closer, and the chatter around the park drops to a low whisper as people pause to watch.
Grey and Pops turn at the same time, giving us a straight view between them to the man casually strolling our way with danger in his grave expression.
Cian, who is six booths away from us, follows the man. Close enough to lunge for him, but far enough away to be respectful. So it’s not only me weirded out by this stranger.
The closer he gets, the more my body begins to tremble as nineteen-year-old me claws her way to the surface.
“What are you doing here?” Braxton asks, pulling me behind him—he really needs to stop doing that. But he must feel my arms vibrating beneath my skin because he spins around to check on me. “I’m right here. He’s not your monster anymore. Okay? Trust me.”
I don’t know what’s happening to my body, but I can’t respond. He curses, then turns his back on me while still holding me close with one hand.
“That’s cute,” his father snarls. “You know, she’s ruined a man once before. Are you going for a double play, Madison?”
“Don’t,” Braxton warns.
“We’re here,” Savvy whispers to my left. Clover closes in on my right, and I lean on them both for support.
Braxton must sense them at my sides because he releases me and steps toward his father.
“I don’t want to be this meek version of myself anymore,” I whisper to my best friends. “This isn’t me, and he doesn’t have any right to take that power from me. Not anymore.”
Savvy nods as if she’s proud of me, but Clover looks terrified while attempting to be supportive.
“What do you need?” Savvy asks.
“Nothing. I know you’re here for me. I know I have support. But dang, it’s scary facing your fears.”
“You’ve got this,” Clover says with false bravado. I appreciate her trying, but confrontation isn’t in her DNA.
I bounce on my toes a little. It must be useful because fighters and boxers do it. Are they the same thing? Whatever, it gets the blood pumping, and I don’t care if everyone thinks I’m going to freak out—I know I’m not. Brushing the hair from my face, I focus on what’s happening in front of me, then take a small step, and another, and another until I’m close enough to press into Braxton’s side.
He flinches until he realizes it’s me, and whatever he finds on my face has determination growing on his.
“You’ve done enough damage, Alistair,” Braxton warns. “Not only to us, but to the kids you say you love and to your wife. You’re not going to do that shit to me or my fiancée.”
“Sweet. Really, that speech is sickeningly sweet. But you don’t get to cut me from my own company, take everything I’ve worked for, and leave me with nothing.” His body is twitchy, almost as if he’s on something, and that makes him dangerous, but his gaze is clear even if it is ice cold, so I know its ragemaking his body react this way. That might make him even more dangerous.
Cian stands nearby, but the older man barely spares him a second glance.
“I owe you nothing,” Braxton says.
How the heck is he remaining calm? I’m ready to charge this jerk. I’ll be a bulldog who hasn’t eaten in days. Glancing down, I almost laugh when I realize I’m still bouncing on my toes. I guess I really am ready to fight my battles.
His dad steps forward, and I can’t control the way my body flinches. He sees it too because the evil gleam in his expression turns downright vicious.
Clenching my teeth until my jaw aches, I square my shoulders and glare right back.
Grey leans into Braxton’s side. “Mr. Coop’s team doesn’t have a case against him yet.” Braxton nods but never takes his gaze off Alistair Montgomery.
He’s dressed in a suit that was probably made just for him. Everything about him screams dirty money in a way that makes good people run and hide. There’s nothing about him that’s welcoming or kind. From his too-narrow eyes to his turned-up nose and shiny gold watch with too many diamonds, he radiates arrogance constructed on the backs of others.
