Page 22 of Rescued By My Best Friend's Brother

“A man like that doesn’t stop until he gets what he wants. You cannot be this dense. I thought you were smarter than this.” His words sting, not because they are harsh but because they are true. I used to be smart and independent, not naive and stupid. But I guess I have changed just as much as Jasper.

I hug myself and try looking anywhere that isn’t at Jasper. “I’m going to finish applying for places. I’m sure with all this, you want me out as soon as possible.” I hold back the tears.

“You will not be applying anywhere else today, not after what just happened.” His hand wraps around mine. “I am going to walk you to your car. I want you to go straight home. You can apply to other places another day. Your safety is more important.”

I nod and obey. He isn’t wrong. Bradley could be waiting somewhere, waiting for Jasper to walk off, so he can come back to bother me. Thankfully he doesn’t know where Jasper lives. And although I don’t want to be more of a burden, I like that Jasper worries about me, thatsomeoneworries about me. I love how he clutches my hand without hesitation. Does this mean things really have changed between us?

Chapter Twelve

Jasper

IsighinwardlyasI look at the red handprints still lingering on her arms. I’m glad they’re the only marks that he left. If he had done anything else, I would have had to do more than block his hit. I would’ve knocked him out. I despise toxic men, especially abusive ones. I definitely need to do something about this Bradley guy. He is dangerous. I may have stopped him this time, but I know he’ll want to retaliate. He wants power and control, and I just took that away from him.

I stay close as I walk Elena to her car. I don’t trust him and know that he may come back around once I am gone. I don’t want my actions towards him to come back as aggression towards her. I know too many men who have done this.

Elena is complacent as she leads the way to where she parked. I watch her, taking in her appearance and ensuring she isn’t injured more than she is letting on. She seems to be doing fine, or as fine as she can be after an encounter like that, but I can tell that she’s still terrified. She’s flushed, and it looks like she just revisited her worst nightmare. In fact, Bradley probably is her worst nightmare. In all the years I have known her, I have never seen her look so afraid of someone, even though she fought him.

My blood still boils from the way Bradley manhandled her. The desire to rip his fingers off one by one lingers, making my hands twitch. He had no right to touch her like that. She clearly didn’t want anything to do with him.

We finally make it to her car, and she turns to look at me. She doesn’t meet my gaze but looks at the ground. “Thank you for helping me out today. I really do appreciate it,” she mutters.

I give her a small nod. “No problem.” I glance around, ensuring that her ex is nowhere to be seen. I don’t see him, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t watching.

I return my attention to her. She is now rummaging through her purse for her keys. Her hands move radically through it, as her search falls short. I set my hands on her arms, trying to calm her. I hate that I can’t take her home myself, that I can’t accompany her and ensure she is okay. If I didn’t have this meeting with Mr. Matheson later, I would definitely take her home.

“Are you going to be okay?” I ask her.

She nods, looking at everything but me. Tears well up in her eyes, and she tries to blink them away, but some escape. I pull her into my chest, wrapping my arms around her. It’s the only thing I think that might help her in this moment. Words don’t seem appropriate.

It feels good to hold her. It feels right, like this is where I am supposed to be. Her body shudders as she lets out a few sobs. I squeeze a little tighter, which causes her to lean on me more. We stand like this for a few minutes, me in silence, and her just quietly crying into my shirt. I don’t mind it either.

Finally, her cries stop. I loosen my grip, allowing her to look up. She wipes away the tears and gives me a faint smile. “Sorry.”

I tuck a hair behind her ear to better see her face. “Don’t. Anyone would be shaken up after something like that.” I wipe away tears with my thumb and lift her chin to look at me. “Will you be okay to get home?”

She nods. “Thanks again.” She steps back and starts to look through her purse once more. She finds her keys immediately and pulls them out. She moves towards the car to unlock it but pauses. She looks at me again, her hazel eyes stare up at me as if she wants to say something more. “I really appreciate you walking me here. I’m sorry you had to get involved.”

I shake my head. “It’s fine. Just make sure no one is tailing you. We don’t want him knowing where you are staying. I’ll see you later on tonight.”

She opens the door and gets inside. Before she can shut it, I grab the door. “Please text me when you get home,” I tell her. I want to know she is safe.

“Okay.”

I release the door, allowing her to finally shut it. I watch as she drives off. I feel someone touch my shoulder. I spin around ready to clobber someone. “Whoa, whoa man” Greg stumbles back with his hands up as if sayingI’m not armed.“Damn it, don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry man, I just took care of the bill and came looking for you. Who was that?” He pointed in the direction of the Dodge Neon driving off.

“Noone, just my sister’s best friend.” I start in the direction of our building “Com’on, let’s get back to the office before Mr. Matheson gets there”

I stare at Mr. Matheson and his assistant. They look at all the research I put into the financial report outlining the top best investments, the estimated rate of return, and a sample of what my services provide. Mr. Matheson nods his head as he discusses with his assistant, a woman probably in her late thirties, some of the things he likes and dislikes. I hold my breath as they flip through the pages. Mr. Matheson is a little traditional in the fact he likes holding things in his hands to look at them. He hates how many investors are now using apps, codes, and other formulas to figure out what is the best investment. I assured him that I look at the data myself before making any investments, especially for my larger accounts.

Mr. Matheson is an older man, probably nearing his late fifties. He finally looks at me and gives me a smile, showing straight white teeth. Tanned creases form at the corners of his mouth and eyes. “Where do I sign?”

I grab the manilla folder I had set down on the coffee table in my office before they arrived. I open it up and show him the contract. I push a pen toward him as well. “Your assistant should already have a copy of the contract,” I tell him.

He nods. “Mmm-hmm. I looked over it, as did my lawyers. Everything looks great.” He picks up the pen and scribbles an unreadable signature. He pushes the papers and folder back toward me.

“Great. I will send a copy of the signed contract to you in the next hour.” I shut the folder. “Greg,” I call.

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