Alistair
I should have left the party like I said I would and not lingered in the hopes of talking to Chiara again. I don’t know what I’m doing here, acting like a fucking teenager. But I can’t help myself. Every time I’m with her, I unravel.
No matter what happens, she’ll be the ruin of me. I know that deep in my bones. And yet here I am, jumping off the edge gladly.
I’m in the middle of a casual conversation with acquaintances when I catch Chiara dashing through the party, followed by Phillip. She seems upset about something. I excuse myself and follow them, not thinking clearly about what I intend to do once I catch up.
Forrester spots me as I’m closing in on Phillip and waves me over. If I stop to speak to him now, it might be too late to investigate what happened to Chiara. I show him my phone and signal that I need to make a call.
When I finally step outside, the scene I witness makes my blood boil. Phillip is holding Chiara by her arm, ignoring her when she asks him to let her go.
What the actual fuck?
I’m on the son of a bitch in an instant, yanking him back by the collar of his shirt.
“You heard her,” I almost snarl like an enraged beast.
“Mr. Walsh. It’s not what it looks like,” he stammers.
I ignore him as I stare at the red mark his fingers left on her arm, then at her face. She looks frightened, but of me or the imbecile behind me?
“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” I ask.
“I’m fine. I just want to go home.” She hugs her middle, looking even smaller than she is.
“I’ll take you.”
There’s no question about it. I don’t care about the risks or consequences. I can’t let Chiara go home alone. If she says no, I’ll have to insist, beg if needed.
“Okay,” she whispers.
Damn it. What the hell happened between her and Phillip to put her in this state?
I try not to let my imagination run wild. I don’t need more reason to be furious at him.
We walk in silence to my car, and when I open the door for her, she doesn’t glance at me. Once I’m behind the steering wheel, I can’t hold my tongue any longer.
“Tell me the truth, Goldi. Did Phillip hurt you?”
“No. He really didn’t.”
I rub my face, a vain attempt to regain some control.
“Explain to me what I saw, then.”
She crosses her arms and stares out the window. “There’s nothing to explain. Are you going to drive, or are you waiting for your ex-wife to catch us here and ruin your life?”
With a push of a button, my car roars to life. It works to hide the noise of my teeth grinding together. Only when Monica and Tessa’s mansion disappears from my rearview mirror do I speak again.
“I didn’t know Nadine would be at the party.”
“Did you know I’d be there though?”
“I guessed.”
“You guessed?” Her voice rises an octave. “Why didn’t you tell me? I wasn’t prepared to see you there.”
“I don’t know, Goldi. Maybe I didn’t want you to not go on my account. Maybe I just fucking missed you, okay?”
“I missed you too.”
With a groan, I throw my head back, hitting the headrest with a soft thud. “I hate this.”
My confession feels immature, like a teenager throwing a tantrum. I’m a grown-ass man. I should be handling this situation better than I am.
“Hate what?”
“Not being able to take you to a party. Having to watch you flirt with guys who are your age and much better suited for you.”
“God. You make it sound like you’re an ancient man. You’re only eight years older than me. Besides, I wasn’t flirting with anyone.”
I glance at her again, finding her looking out the window.
“I’m sorry.” I touch her arm, drawing her attention back to me.
A pitiful smile pulls at her lips. “I hate this situation too, especially when I see you in front of your ex-wife.”
Fuck. I can’t drive when all I want to do is take Chiara in my arms. I pull into a business complex parking lot and stop the car.
