Page 63 of The Damaged Billionaire

“I’m out,” I say, itching to get out of this house and away from my mother. I need to get to Josh’s school, then I need to talk to Willow. At some point this afternoon, my brothers and I all need to touch base on what the fuck happened here today.

“Me too,” Ben says just as quickly. He was over it all before he even arrived today.

“I’m done,” Harrison says, also standing, gathering his things, and us three boys stand, looking at Eddie. It isn’t fair that he doesn’t have even half of our memories. By the time he was old enough, he had a great nanny, a reasonable relationship with our parents, and even though they never got along, I feel like Eddie was always the apple of Mom’s eye.

“Let’s call it a day,” he says diplomatically, and I don’t wait any longer, hearing Mom rant behind me as I walk out of the room and out of the house, never once looking back. She and this house are now dead to me.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN - WILLOW

Driving out of my place, I rush to buckle my seat belt when I am already on the road. I have exactly fifteen minutes to get to Josh’s school, find my seat among all the parents and caregivers, and see him get his award. With his mom stuck at the hospital, unable to miss her shift, I didn’t hesitate to attend today to support him. I am so proud of his achievements. My phone is charged and ready to take too many photos of the moment.

As I drive down my street, I look at the cars parked to the side. They are a new addition to our neighborhood this week. Black SUVs with dark tinted windows. Tennyson and I are now public knowledge, and the media have been circling. They have kept their distance for the most part because of the relationships I have with many of them, but that doesn’t really stop the paparazzi from trying to get a shot. I expected it, so I have plans in place. Police drive-bys occur often just to have a presence, and neighbors have all been notified to limit concern.

While things are relatively calm and steady for Tennyson’s reputation, paternity is still not sorted, and both parties are at a stalemate. The baby’s health is the priority, so we can only move as quickly as the mother allows. Which, at the moment, is no movement at all. She hasn’t even been examined, so we are just taking her word for it that she is, in fact, pregnant. Given the date she and Tennyson were together, we estimate her to be around ten weeks along now.

“Damn,” I say as a car darts around me. Speeding past me, I slam on my brakes, not wanting an accident to occur because of me, and let it pass. I was driving to the limit, but I see a camera flash from the back window and know the paparazzi do this type of activity all the time, trying to get a shot of me with anger on my face, to portray a story that just isn’t real.

“Assholes,” I murmur as I slowly pick up my pace again, turning off the main road, taking the back streets and hoping to miss both the traffic and the media.

My eyes flick to the time, and I should be fine. I will get there just as everyone is taking a seat. I have been to a few of these before, and I know the principal will talk and welcome everyone for about twenty minutes before the awards begin. I hope Tennyson can make it today. I feel like he and Josh got off on the wrong foot. From their first meeting with a soccer ball to the head, to Tennyson being in my home, taking over Josh’s title of the man in my life. It was always going to be an adjustment, but I hope that Josh can see both Tennyson and me in the crowd today and know that he isn’t losing me, but gaining Tennyson. Without a father figure in his life, his mom does it all, and I feel that Tennyson and Josh would actually be good for each other.

I slow down as I approach a red light and take a breath. I am making good time. I just need to slip down the right avenue and I will nearly be there. As I am lost in my thoughts, I hear a loud screech of tires as a car skids right next to me. Looking up, I see a large black Escalade close by my side in the other lane. I sigh heavily. The media are so intrusive sometimes. The car doors open, and I put my head down, looking at my lap, and my hair falls across my face, shielding me. I don’t want to look their way and get my face on camera. But within seconds, they are pulling open my door, and I curse myself for not locking it when I got in, too preoccupied trying to race to the school on time.

“Hey, stop! You can’t do that!” I yell as a big guy with dark clothing opens my door wide and leans right into my personal space. I slap at his arm, which is thick and solid and unflinching as he unbuckles my seat belt.

“Stop. This is against the law!” I yell again, having never experienced paparazzi like this. I hear him growl, then he grabs my arms and pulls me out of the car like I am nothing more than a doll.

“Ahhh!” I scream, and my fists continue to hit at his chest.

“Shut up and get in the car,” the man growls again, and I still. This is not the media. Blood pumps in my chest. I try to take a step back and twist my arm, attempting to get out of his hold, but his grip tightens.

“Let me go!” I scream, hoping to get someone's attention, but on these back streets, it is quiet. I should have stuck to the main roads.

“Get in the fucking car!” he roars, but I continue to wrestle, not staying still. I have no idea about self-defense tactics, but the more I move, the less likely he will get a good grip on me.

“No! Help! Somebody, help!” I yell before a fist flies to my face, my body reeling back, slamming into the side of my car. My face throbs, and I taste blood. I’ve never been hit before. The pain is instant; it feels almost like a burn, then a woozy feeling comes over me quickly. I blink, fighting the tears that threaten, and as I slowly come back, I start to scream.

“Help! Help!” I have no idea what is going on, but my instinct is to run. I push off my car and take a step, my car still running, keys still in the ignition, my driver's side door fully open. I can hear my cell phone ringing from where it sits in my bag on the passenger seat, but I need to get away. I take another step and am about to dash around the trunk to run to the nearby houses, but I feel a grip around my wrist before my body is yanked back hard. I slam into his chest, the solid wall of muscle hard on my bones, and the air is pushed from my lungs so violently I struggle to catch my breath. He is so big, my head barely reaches his chest, and he holds me to him tightly as he lowers his mouth to my ear.

“I said, get in the fucking car, you fucking bitch.” His voice sends a shiver down my spine as his hands roughly wrap around my waist and he picks me up as though I weigh nothing, throwing me over his shoulder. I kick my legs and thrash my body, my fists thumping into his back, doing anything I can to make him drop me, but his hold is strong, too strong for me to fight against.

“No! Stop! Help me!” I yell, not giving up. I kick my legs so violently, my heels fall from my feet. I have no idea who this is or what they want, but I have little time to think about that before my body is thrown into the back seat of his car, my head hitting on the doorframe on the way in, my world turning black before my body even hits the seat.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT - TENNYSON

I stand outside the school, calling Willow, but she still doesn’t answer. Looking around, I see smiling parents, grandparents, and teaching staff, all having the time of their lives as they wander around, shaking hands and smiling. Their life appears calm and serene, while mine is in total turmoil, and I can barely figure out what the hell is happening.

I have a million other places to be, including debriefing with my brothers after the shit show at my mother’s this morning. But I promised Willow I would come today to support her psycho bodyguard. His mom is working at the hospital, and he doesn’t have a father around so it must be hard. The fact that it is Willow who comes to these things cements to me that maybe Josh has a less than ideal family situation. I know all about how that feels.

As I see everyone moving inside, I decide to go in, saving Willow a seat so she can glide in unnoticed, because I know she won’t miss this. Josh is very important to her, and with no one else here to support him, she knows she needs to be.

I move around the families and grab two empty seats halfway down and to the side. A few people give me the side-eye. Probably because I seem so out of place here in my suit and with a don’t-talk-to-me look on my face. One older woman looks at me with pursed lips, not too happy to have me here, and I flash her my pearly whites.

As proceedings start, I send Willow a text telling her where I am sitting and asking her how far away she is. The principal starts talking, welcoming the crowd and outlining the school values, my ass already numb from this hard wooden seat. I look over the group of kids standing at the front and try to find Josh among them. It doesn’t take me long. He is the only kid looking right at me like he wants to gut me from head to toe. He wasn’t happy that I was coming today. I give him my biggest fuck you smile, and he rolls his eyes. One point for me.

As the afternoon rolls on, I keep looking over my shoulder, but Willow still isn’t here. I text her again, but still no answer. I start to feel agitated. This is so unlike her. Something feels off. Panic starts to fill my body. I am deep in thought about where she might be when I hear Josh’s name called and I look up. He looks at me with his eyebrows raised in question, but I shake my head, letting him know she isn’t here, and I visibly see his shoulders slump. My eyes don’t leave him as I watch this young boy walk across the stage with a lackluster clap from the crowd to collect his certificate.

I do something then, something I didn’t think was possible. I put my fingers to my lips and let out a big whistle before I yell “Go, Josh!” out to the crowd. Lifting my phone, I hit record to start taking video, knowing that Willow will want to see it later. He looks up at me, startled, and I give him a thumbs-up, and he shockingly gives me a small smile. When he takes his final steps across the stage to meet the school principal, he is now standing a little taller, his shoulders not as rounded, and his small smile remains.

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