I push my chair back to stand, and Nadine follows suit. Ignoring her, I head out of the restaurant and give my ticket to the valet guy.
“Alistair, look at me.”
The idiot that I am, I do so. I don’t expect Nadine to grab my face between her hands and kiss me on the lips. I push her off as fast as I can, but not fast enough to avoid the paparazzi flashes.
“You set me up!” I wipe my lips, knowing for sure I have a red smear on them.
She doesn’t seem one bit fazed by my reaction. “You’re not getting rid of me as easily as you think, babe. Not when I’m about to sign a contract for a reality TV show. I need drama, and our rocky relationship will provide plenty of that.”
I want to shake her, scream at her, but I do none of those things. I won’t be played again.
The valet guy comes with my car, and I grab the keys so fast, I forget to tip the man. Two minutes into my drive, I receive a text from Chiara. It’s only a bunch of kiss-face emojis.
Fuck me, I didn’t even factor her into all this mess. How long until she sees those damn pictures online?
I call her, and it goes straight to voice mail. Goddamn it. Anger and frustration mix, making a vein throb on my forehead.
Without a choice, I drive to Chiara’s apartment. Once again, I’m not using my best judgment here. The parking lot in front of her building is full, so I circle around and park my truck a block away. As if an omen that things are about to turn to shit, heavy rain starts to fall in big fat drops. I grab the hoodie I always keep in my car and put it on. It still carries Chiara’s sweet scent from when I loaned it to her the other day. Pulling the hood over my head, I brave the weather. I get drenched within seconds.
Walking fast with my head down, I reach the front of her building in less than a minute. Of course, tonight I won’t be so lucky to catch someone leaving the building so I can enter quickly. I try the door just in case, finding it locked. I call Chiara again and get the same thing, voice mail.
My teeth start to chatter as I look for her name on the intercom system. I have to squint to read the small letters. Finally, I locate the damn button with her name next to it. I press the buzzer several times without an answer.
Shit. Chiara isn’t home.
Where the hell could she be?
“Can I help you?” a guy asks.
I turn, getting hit by a bright light on my face. I have to raise my arm to protect my eyes.
“Yeah, can you lower your goddamn flashlight?”
The light stays in place, but the voice gets harder. “Are you a resident at Brandywine Hall?”
Fuck me. I forgot this area was patrolled by a private security company paid in part by DuBose. There have been some break-ins lately, so they’ve been more vigilant about strangers in the area.
“No, I’m a teacher at DuBose High School. Just lower your light, please. You’re going to blind me.” I take a step in his direction.
“Don’t move.”
This is fucking ridiculous. I don’t have time for this bullshit. “I’m leaving.”
“You’re not going anywhere until I see some identification.”
I ignore the guy and keep walking. The last thing I expect is for him to grab the sleeve of my hoodie and yank. Caught by surprise, I lose my balance and fall backward, the middle of my spine hitting the edge of the concrete step. Sharp pain shoots up my back.
“Fuck!”
“I told you not to move, punk!” He jams his knee into my chest, still holding that ridiculous flashlight over my face.
I shove him off me with ease, and he lands on his knees with the grace of a giraffe on stilts. I manage to get back on my feet before he comes at me again, ramming his body against mine. He tries to knock me down, but I’ve been practicing martial arts for years; he doesn’t stand a chance.
The sound of a police siren in the distance distracts me, leaving me wide open to receive a punch to my jaw. My head snaps back with the impact, and blood fills my mouth.
The next several minutes happen in a blur. Cops are yelling, the security guy is yelling, and suddenly I’m shoved against the pavement with my head pressed against the cold ground while my hands are cuffed behind my back.
A sense of déjà vu hits me hard. Forrester was there to bail me out the first time I got arrested. Is he going to do the same this time?
36
Alistair
I’m lucky to get a cell to myself tonight. A stark difference from the first time I was arrested for reckless driving when I was younger. Back then, they stuck me in a cell with ten other guys, thugs who wanted to murder me on sight. If I hadn’t been recognized by a fan, one of the biggest guys in there, I would have had my ass kicked.
Resting my elbows on my knees, I keep my head down as I replay tonight’s events. If Nadine gets a whiff of this, she’ll have a field day. I can’t believe I let her get to me like that. I’m such a moron. The fact that I couldn’t talk with Chiara makes me even more frustrated.
I must have been locked up for about an hour when the sound of a metal door opening snaps me to attention. Enzo walks into the detention area, followed by Forrester.
Fuck. Why did he call him?
I level my lawyer with a glare as I clench my jaw.
“Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t call your boss,” Enzo says.
“I was notified by the security company,” Forrester explains. “What in the world were you doing trying to break into student housing, Alistair?”
“I…. Nothing.”
