Page 99 of Billion Dollar Revenge

“You won’t give me a chance to explain?” Bobby snaps, pacing the sidewalk again. His hand is out of his pocket now. “I even sent you roses.”

I fucking knew it was that slimy bastard.

“Is it because of him?” he says as his hand flies out of his pocket and punches the wall.

My eyes bulge from their sockets at his angry outburst.

“Don’t be dumb, Chelsea,” he says.

My heartbeat pounds in my ears as my body grows hot.

He called her dumb. She’s not dumb. He’s fucking dumb.

A throat clears behind me. I turn my head as he asks. “Do you still need me?”

For a moment, I forgot the security guy was still here.

“No, I need to go,” I mutter, spinning back around and taking a final look at Bobby on the screen. He’s pissed, but I’m fucking outraged at what I just witnessed. As much as I want to continue watching, icy fear grasps my throat at what could happen if I don’t get down there. I take off down the stairs, not bothering to see if security followed.

I tell Gabby as I pass her desk that I’ll be back. I don’t wait for her reply. The elevators are too slow, and I don't want to get stuck talking to anyone. Pushing the heavy metal door, I take the fire exit stairs. I get outside, where I welcome the cool air on myperspired skin. Opening the door of my car, I tell the driver to drive as fast as possible to the new office.

I peel off my suit jacket in the car, tossing it to the side. Then I remove my cufflinks and unbutton and roll up my sleeves.

Five minutes later, I push the door open before the car is completely parked and call out, “I’ll be back.”

I storm the pavement and, thank fuck, Bobby’s still here. He’s not on the phone anymore, though. So why is he still here? Is he waiting for her? Will he hurt her? I shake my head, not letting that happen. I’ll handle this.

When I storm closer, my heavy footsteps and labored breaths give me away. His head lifts and his eyes widen slightly.

Gotcha.

“You weren't expecting me, were you?” I say, my voice dripping with venom.

“No,” he replies calmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

My lips curl as I sneer. “You’re meant to be down on Broadway covering the firing of the princess’s bodyguard. Instead, you’re here calling to talk to Chelsea.”

“I wasn’t,” he lies.

My rage claws to the surface. I try to keep the anger inside and stay professional. I point to the camera. His head turns to follow my finger.

“I could see and hear you,” I say smoothly, my lip curling.

He twists back to me with a frown, unbothered. “Why were you watching me?”

His accusatory voice irks me. I’m the CEO. I don't have time to watch employees. Does he actually think I have nothing better to do?

Through a tight jaw, I spit out, “I wasn’t watching you. I just had these installed and the security firm was showing me the setup when I saw you.”

Not that I had to explain myself to him. I’m not in the wrong.

He squints his eyes at me, as if assessing if I’m lying.

I move closer to him. “You’re stalking and harassing her, Bobby.” My voice is quiet, as I see a group passing us and staring.

“I’m not!” Bobby shouts, his hands flying out and making a scene. “I’m on my way to take pictures.”

I freeze, eyes wide at his outburst. Suddenly, I realize his composure is slipping. His usually neat hair is messy and oily. His eyes are bloodshot like he has been drinking all night.

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