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“Julian Lovejoy.”
I do a double take. “Wait a minute. The yuppie guru guy? Life coach and all of that?”
She nods. “Yes. We met at Keanu’s premiere, the one with the guns and the dog.”
Keanu? If she’s on a first name basis with A-listers, Emory is a bigger deal than I thought.
Emory’s gaze grows distant as she looks into the past.
“At first, it was so flattering to have this super successful, very well known man coming after me. He showered me with attention. Love bombed me until I didn’t know which way was up. For about three weeks, I’ll admit, things were pretty good.”
Her expression darkens, and her hands tighten into fists. Tendons stand out on the back of her forearms, and she faintly trembles.
“But then…I don’t know. It was like his mask of compassion started to slip. He turned controlling, and, and aggressive.”
She covers her face with her hands.
“One night, we were having an argument, and he hit me.”
My blood boils. Trembling with anger, I envision how things will go if I get my hands on this guy.
I’ve seen Julian Lovejoy’s podcasts and YouTube videos. He’s not a small man by any means. Six and a half-feet tall, body honed by exercise, and well-versed in the martial arts–smashing bricks on stage was a favorite ‘empowerment’ ritual of his–the man could kill Emory without really trying.
“It wasn't like he brutalized me. It was just a slap across the cheek, but I still fell down. He told me to get up and stop being dramatic.”
She looks over at me suddenly, her eyes widening.
“I left him after that. I waited for him to fall asleep, and I left so fast I forgot my shoes. I walked all the way from Rodeo Drive barefoot, because I was too afraid to go back.”
“At least you got out of there.”
She nods. “Not all women are in a position to do what I did. Leave their abuser, I mean, so at first I thought I was lucky. I sent him a text begging him never to contact me again, blocked his number, and thought that would be the end.”
Jax covers his mouth with his hand, a disturbed look in his eyes. I know the feeling.
“But it didn’t end there,” he asks softly. “Did it, Emory?”
She shakes her head, golden locks shimmering in the light.
“No. It didn’t. I started seeing him, just lurking, when I was out in public. He called me so much, I wound up turning my phone off for days at a time.”
“I thought you blocked his number?”
“A man with his resources can buy a thousand phones if he wants. I got the impression he wasn’t going to stop. He was just going to keep on me until it drove me insane.”
“Did you go to the police?”
“Of course I did,” she snaps. “And they said they couldn’t do anything unless Julian actually did something criminal. I mean, I asked for a restraining order, and got one, but that didn’t stop him from being at the same places I was in public, always keeping just far enough away that the law couldn’t touch him.”
Jax stares for a long moment before speaking.
“Tell us when things started to escalate.”
Emory smiles, but there’s no happiness in it. A tear rolls down her cheek.
“He…I had this rescue dog, and, um…I came home one night, and my door was standing wide open and the dog…the dog was…”
She covers her face and sobs. I want to comfort her so damn bad, but I don’t know how. A woman who’s been stalked by a violent ex obviously doesn’t need some guy she just met trying to hug her or something.
