Page 60 of Passion and Privilege

His eyes flashed with anger. The sorry act disappeared in a flash. “You brought that man to my wedding just to spite me. You always had to have your way. You thought you were going to ruin my wedding!”

“You invited me!” I shot back. “I didn’t ask to come! You wanted to rub it in my face.”

“You are such a bitch,” he hissed.

“Maybe I am,” I said calmly, shaking my head. “Maybe I had to become a bitch to survive you, Scott. You didn’t ruin me with your lies or your cheating. You only made me stronger.”

“I cheated on you because you’re a cold fish! Fucking you was like a prison sentence!” He stepped toward me.

“Get away from me,” I warned.

He laughed, a cruel mocking sound that echoed through the shop. “Or else what, Catie?”

“Or else you’ll regret it,” I said in a voice colder than Antarctica. “I’m no longer the weak girl you knew, Scott.”

“Oh really?” His sneer had me itching to slap it off his face.

“Yes, really,” I said, meeting his eyes with determination.

For a moment, he just stared at me in silence. Then he took another step forward.

“Scott,” I warned again, my voice steady despite the fear coiling in my stomach.

He ignored me and kept moving closer until he was standing nose to nose. “You were never good enough for me,” he hissed. “You don’t even know how to be a woman. You don’t turn anyone on. Taking you to bed is a chore.”

“Great! Because you’ll never be taking me to bed!”

He hurled more insults and accusations my way. The atmosphere grew tense, and in a fit of rage, he grabbed one of the antique fixtures I had just acquired and hurled it across the shop. It crashed against the wall, shattering into pieces. I cried out in shock and horror.

“Get out!” I screamed.

He paused, his face contorted in rage. Then, he grabbed me by the arm, his grip like a vise. “Make me,” he sneered, pulling me closer.

I didn’t even have time to think. I slapped him across the face as hard as I could. The sound reverberated through the silence like a gunshot. He let go of me instantly, his hand flying to his cheek, which was already starting to redden.

“You bitch!”

“Get out, Scott!” I roared, pointing at the door. “Get out of my shop!”

“What the hell is going on here?” Timothy snarled, walking toward us with a fire in his eyes.

He positioned himself between Scott and me.

“I asked what the hell is going on here?” Timothy demanded, his voice cold and authoritative.

Scott, now fuming with anger, directed his fury toward Timothy. “Who the hell are you?”

Ignoring Scott’s question, Timothy glanced over his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, a mixture of relief and frustration. “I told him to leave, but he won’t listen.”

Out of nowhere, Scott threw a punch at Timothy.

Timothy was quick on his feet and easily sidestepped the attack. “You’ve got one chance to walk out that door, Scott. I suggest you take it.”

Scott balled his fists and made to lunge again but Timothy was quicker. With a swift and well-aimed punch right to Scott’s gut, he had him doubled over, gasping for breath.

“It appears you’ve made your choice.”