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“Honestly? Yes. But you have surprised me,” I say with a grin. The feeling is odd, but this level of flirty happiness, borderline giddiness, is something I haven’t felt for years.
“Some people think I am a lot to handle. I know I can be intense, especially with work. But I have a feeling that you could manage everything I bring.” He is flirting and not even trying to be subtle anymore. This is a game we have been playing all night, and I am thoroughly enjoying myself.
“Hmmm, well, I am good at handling problems. I am an excellent multitasker, and I have fantastic negotiating skills…” I may not work in a fancy office, but those skills I need on a daily basis with my class. And I can guarantee he’d be a bigger pain than my job has ever been.
“Are you saying I am a problem, Miss Carr?” he teases, using his lawyer voice.
“You are a very big problem. The biggest!” I laugh then. It’s amazing to me how any tension or nerves I had about tonight, or Ben, have all disappeared.
“I can assure you that I am big. But I don’t see that as being a problem.” The air catches in my chest, and I feel my cheeks heat as he quirks a brow. With his eyes on mine, his posture softens. When he smiles at me this time, it’s genuine, almost as if he is laughing at himself for his flirty comments, before he clears his throat.
“Are you ready to go?” he asks with a sigh, like he actually doesn’t want to leave at all. Although the restaurant is still busy, we have been here long enough. But if I didn’t have to work in the morning, it’d be the perfect night to continue.
“Sure, let me just run to the restroom.” I give him a smile and walk through the restaurant to the back, feeling his eyes on me the entire way.
I do my business, check my lipstick, and take in a breath. I feel so good right now, and as I look at my reflection, I see a strong capable woman staring back at me. And real or fake, I have a handsome, eligible man waiting for me, who if he decides to kiss me good night, then I am going to let him. With a final tuck of my hair, I grab my bag and walk out, feeling on cloud nine.
I only make it three steps through the darkened hallway before I feel a rough hand grab my arm, twisting me around. I wince in pain at the grip and come face-to-face with a very angry Jeremy. My heart immediately starts pounding, nerves shaking my limbs, as my flight-or-fight kicks in. But I need to be strong. I am not the weak young woman I was when I first met him, and I am not bowing down to his commands anymore. So even though I am scared out of my mind, I pull on all the strength that George has instilled in me over the past few years and stand my ground.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he spits out, not letting go of my arm.
“None of your business,'' I hiss back. There is no one around, but I am trying to be quiet and not cause a scene.
“You are my fucking business. What are you doing with him?” he grits out, and I look up at him, his face red and distorted, teeth grinding together. It makes me sick.
“I don’t need to explain anything to you. Let go of me, Jeremy. You’re hurting me.” I try to pull myself out of his hold, but am unsuccessful as his hand only tightens. His stare is murderous, and I can smell the whiskey on his breath.
He has always wanted me, even after everything he’s done to me. His stalker behavior has eased over the years, but never truly gone away. I left with Rosie years ago, and while he wants nothing to do with her, his own blood, he still wants me. I have no idea why, but perhaps because I am the only woman to have ever left him. It is like a game to him, something he has to win. It isn’t because he loves me, because you don’t treat someone you love the way he treats me.
At this point, I know I will have bruises from his grip. It has been a while. Months since the last ones left my body, so I knew it wouldn’t be long until he turned up again. I guess seeing me here in the city, on a date with a Rothschild, no less, expedited the timeframe. At least Rosie doesn’t have to be around to witness it this time.
“Let go of me,” I say again, my voice pitching a little higher as I now start to panic, not sure what to expect from him next. This is the problem; he is just so volatile and unpredictable.
“Get your fucking hands off my fiancée before I break your fucking arm myself,” Ben says in a growly tone I haven’t heard from him, coming up behind me. Grabbing Jeremy’s hand off me, I yelp in pain and hold my arm to my chest, rubbing it to try to ease the sting.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” Jeremy spits, flinging his arms away and stepping back from Ben, who looks murderous and like he is about to totally lose it. “You have no idea what you have gotten yourself into, Ben, no fucking idea,” he adds before spinning on his heel and walking away.
I sigh and close my eyes, embarrassed, exposed, and frightened. He is such an asshole. I hate that this is a part of my life.
I feel Ben move in front of me, my eyes still shut. “Are you alright?” he asks, concerned, and I nod.
“I’m fine,” I say with a small smile, finally looking up at him. As fake as this date is, I really didn’t want Ben involved like this. I feel guilty. This is something I should have told him about before jumping into this agreement. But how do you explain to someone that being close to me could have serious consequences for your health, because my ex is a crazy abusive maniac.
“Come on, let’s go,” he says, wrapping his arm around my waist protectively, and I continue rubbing my arm until we step outside and get back into the car.
We settle into the back seat while Ralph drives me home to William Heights. Ben leans over and takes my arm in his gentle hold, looking it over.
“What do you need?” he asks me softly, and I almost choke on my unshed tears at the question. Those kinds of words from a man are entirely new for me, and I feel a flood of relief at hearing them. Knowing that it is possible for someone to care enough to ask.
“I’m fine.” I keep my answers short, because I am fragile at the moment, and I don’t want to break down in front of him. My poor friends will get that version of me as soon as I walk in the door at home.
“How do you know Jeremy Lucas?” he asks, looking serious, and I sigh again, still not knowing what to tell him and what to keep to myself. I think for a beat.
“He is my Sasha,” I say quietly and look into his eyes.
Ben doesn’t need to know the full details. He doesn’t need to know that the night I caught Jeremy cheating on me in his office, he pushed me down the stairs, which sent me into preterm labor. The fall and impact are what caused Rosie’s vision impairment. He doesn’t need to know that from that night onward, Jeremy’s infatuation with me grew and his jealousy at having to share me with our new little girl overshadowed everything. In the end, after years of abuse, physically, mentally, and financially, I offered him a deal. I’d walk away with nothing but Rosie. I wanted nothing from him, not a home, not a car, not any money or child support. It was a deal he couldn’t refuse, because I could have taken millions from him, and he is very motivated by money.
But he also doesn’t like to lose in any capacity. So, he had me followed. He’s watched me struggle over the years, and he shows up regularly, still verbally abusive and physically at times. He is not someone who plays by the rules at all. I left quietly without taking a cent, so therefore, he thinks he won. Got the best of both worlds—kept his money and kept me on a leash. But in reality, I know I won, because I got Rosie, my everything. I walked away with the clothes on my back and Rosie in my arms and that was like winning the lottery.
