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“You are such a vile fucking asshole. You make me sick,” I grit out. I want to end him. If that’s the only way to stop this, then that’s what I want.
“You have no idea…” he says before spinning me around and slapping me hard across the face. The last thing I remember is seeing my old cell phone fly out of my bag and across the room, out of reach, having left my new one with Rosie in case she needed to call me.
Even though I am now the one in danger.
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT - BEN
My leg is bouncing with nerves as I think about Em, who is currently meeting my mother at the Four Seasons. I am starting to doubt the idea, but it is too late. Ralph already picked her up, so I just hope my mom is on her best behavior.
The knock at my office door startles me.
“Hey, Ben, express courier just arrived for you,” Sandra says, walking in, handing me a brown envelope before retreating just as quickly and closing the door again.
I wasn’t expecting anything, so I rip open the envelope and upturn it, and about five Polaroids fall out. It is unusual, but I am careful enough not to touch them with my bare hands. I am a lawyer, after all. I flick them over with my pen, and the blood leaves my body at what I see before me. My eyes home in on one of Emily with a man who isn’t me. My teeth grind as I look at the next one and I see clearly Jeremy Lucas as his lips meet Em’s bare neck, the two of them fully naked, Em straddling him. My anger rises as I look at the next one, and the next one, each growing progressively worse. Every photo has the date and time of last night printed at the bottom. Em’s hair looks the exact same color and length as it is now.
“What the fuck?” I seethe, pushing my chair back as I stand angrily, shoving all the files off my desk so all I can see are these Polaroids.
“How the fuck did this happen?” I start pacing the office, trying to get a handle on things, wondering what the hell is happening. Pulling at my hair, I lean over my desk and look at the photos again. I know these are fake, manipulated or something. They can’t be real. This can’t be happening. This is not Em, it just can’t be.
But who would do this? Who would send me these? I look for any sign they are fake, but each Polaroid shows Emily with her long hair, her eyes closed in most of them, her face half-hidden. Her body looks the same. Jeremy’s lips close in on her nipple in one image, and I want to stab his eyes out.
I grab my cell and bring up the group text I have with my brothers, typing in 911 before I start pacing again. Our 911 call is something that we do in times of need. The four of us drop everything to get to each other, and in this case I have called them all to my office. I need my brothers. Right the fuck now.
* * *
“You okay, Benny Boy?” Tennyson asks as he and Eddie walk through my office door. It has taken them mere minutes to get here, both already downstairs in their offices.
“I don’t know,” I huff out as I continue to pace, my hand raking through my hair on a continuous loop.
“What’s going on?” Harrison asks, barging into the office and closing the door. Our governor is looking a little disheveled, and all three of us turn to look at him.
“What? I had the morning off. I was upstairs with Beth,” he says, patting his hair into place as he sits on the edge of my desk, the other two sitting on my sofa. All three of them survey the mess of files on my floor and look at me with concern.
“What’s going on?” Eddie presses, the quiet tension in my office palpable.
“Emily,” I state, not knowing where to go with this.
“Emily? What happened with Emily?” Harrison starts to stand up, already knowing that he isn’t going to like what he is about to hear.
“Well, we talked on the weekend and decided to give us a real go. Be together, for real.” I take a deep breath, that all now seeming like a distant memory.
“But…” Tennyson says, waiting for the bomb to drop.
“I just got these delivered,” I say, pointing to the Polaroids on the coffee table, each of my brothers grabbing one to take a look. I feel sick, sick that my brothers are seeing Emily like this, but equally pissed off that someone is going to the trouble of sending these to me.
“What the fuck?” Harrison barks, his eyes dark and stormy as they look back at me.
“Where did they come from?” Eddie asks, throwing the Polaroid he had back on the coffee table, not wanting to look at any others.
“Express delivery just now. No sender details,” I state, the whole thing feeling really off.
“Are they real? Not doctored or anything?” Tennyson asks me, eyes narrowed.
“It’s not her. It can’t be her, can it?” I ask them, almost pleadingly. I watch their faces for a tell, but only see deep concern etched into each of them.
“Does it look like her?” Harrison asks, stepping forward to look at me and not the photos.
“Yes. I guess?” I feel panicked, my chest heavy.
