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He has no clue what he just did, but he’s about to find out.
Before he blinks and gets his bearings, I’m already throwing the next punch and landing it on the left side of his face. His head snaps to the side dramatically, indicating how hard the hit was, and he rubs at the spot before stumbling into the bar. From the corner of my eye I can see someone rushing around, but I don’t bother paying them any mind as I throw another punch to his eye.
Maybe if it’s swollen shut, he won’t be able to look at Wren again and make moves on someone who’s clearly not available or wants his advances.
“Ryker,” Wren hisses beside me, her voice breaking through the red haze clouding my vision, and she tugs my arm harshly. “We’ve gotta go. Now.”
I can sense the panic in her voice, and just like that, all my attention goes to her before falling over her shoulder. There’s two large men, the security guards, who were standing at the entrance, and they’re pushing through the opening as they head straight for me.
Wren darts her gaze around, the fear in her eyes becoming more apparent, and I follow her attention to the phones being pointed at us.
Well, this isn’t good.
“Shit,” I mutter just as the security guards come to a stop in front of us. They glare at me, one reaching to grip my arm, but I pull away from his touch and throw my hands into the air. “I’m leaving.”
They cross their arms, eyebrows raised in disbelief, and I saunter out of the club with them following behind me and Wren closely.
This was supposed to be a good idea. Wren was meant to feel better about our situation, but there’s no denying that what everyone witnessed tonight will be all over social media by morning. All it takes is one person to share it. I can guarantee it’s already been posted.
What the hell am I going to do now?
It was much easier when I was able to act as though no one saw us together, but there’s no way Mack won’t see what happened tonight.
***
The house is silent when I lift from the bed the next morning, not a single sound echoing throughout, and I worry that Wren may have left without saying anything. I grab my phone in hopes that she may have texted me that she was going out for the morning, but instead, I find a dozen or so missed calls from Mack – along with voicemails following each.
How am I going to pull a lie off right now?
There’s no logical reason why I’d be standing in a club with Wren, not when she’s only supposed to be my therapist. Mack’s going to put two and two together quickly if he already hasn’t, and I’ve no clue what that means for Wren.
Did he already fire her?
I shake my head at the thought and frown.
No, he couldn’t possibly do that.
Knowing Mack, he would’ve called me to get the details before resorting to firing the woman who was supposed to be making my anger better.
Is that how he’s going to see it, though?
When it comes to Wren’s job, there are certain ethics she has to abide by, and one of them is forming an intimate relationship with her patient.
There’s a chance Mack didn’t need to confirm everything with me before kicking Wren out of my place.
She can’t be gone.
I find Mack’s name in my phone and immediately dial the number. It rings once before he growls, “Finally.”
“What the hell is going on, Mack?”
“Well, by now, that wellness coach should be far off the property, and in the next few hours, you’ll be on the private jet back to New York City.”
“You can’t force me to get on it,” I grind out, that anger I’ve been able to tame bubbling in my veins.
Mack chuckles. “Oh, that’s what you’d like to believe.”
“I’m going to see her again before I leave, Mack.”
