Page 105 of The Most Perfect Wrong

His hand reaches out, brushing my arm, and I flinch, but he doesn’t stop. “Come on, baby. Let me help you.” He takes the papers from me, his voice softening further. “If you stay, I’ll rip them up. No one ever has to know. I’ll keep your little secret safe.”

I blink, struggling to process his words through the fog of my panic. His tone is gentle, but his words are dangerous, threading themselves through my thoughts, twisting them until I almost believe him. God, he’s good—too good. But this time, things are different. I have Ryan. And he’s waiting for me.

I take a slow, steadying breath, pulling myself together.

“You don’t want to ruin Ryan’s career, do you?” Brad presses, his eyes narrowing just enough to remind me of the power he thinks he holds. His hands grip my waist, and I cringe as he leans closer, his lips moving toward mine.

Think, Cooper. Think.

And then it dawns on me.

Brad wants to threaten mine and Ryan’s careers? He wants to play this little game of chess where I’ve always been the pawn? Well, guess what? Ryan was on the chess club, and his best friend? He’s the goddamn king.

I push Brad back, my voice low and calm. “You want to play chess, Brad? Fine. Go ahead and send those texts. I don’t care.” I cross my arms, standing taller. “But just remember who Ryan’s best friend is. Or did you forget? Leo Weston. You saw him last month at that private club—you know, the one whereyouwere cheating on me.”

His jaw tightens. “What are you getting at?”

I step closer to the door, my confidence rising with every word. “You love to threaten reputations? Then let me remind you that Leo knows everyone who matters in this city. And if you so much as think about sending those texts, he’ll make sure you don’t land another deal. Ever. You know it, Brad. He’s respected.”

“Bullshit,” he snaps, his composure slipping. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me, Brad. I’m done playing your games.”

I stride toward the door, my pulse racing, but my head held high, proud as hell of myself for standing my ground.

Brad beats me there, his frame blocking my way.

“Wait—don’t go! I didn’t mean it, baby. I’m sorry!”

“Move, Brad.” I keep my voice steady, though inside, a hurricane of anxiety rages, every nerve on edge, my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

I take a step forward, but his hand shoots out, gripping my wrist tightly. The sudden pressure sends a jolt through me, and my breath catches.

“Brad, let go.” Panic zips through me.

His grip tightens. “You walk out that door, and you’re going to regret it.”

“Ow, Brad. You’re hurting me. Let go.”

My heart races faster than before, fear all consuming. Brad’s never crossed this line before—never hurt me physically.

And it scares the shit out of me.

“Brad, if you don’t let go, I’m calling the cops.”

“You’re not going to call the cops, baby. I know you love me.”

I reach into my purse with my free hand, taking out my phone, my thumb hovering over the screen.

He hesitates, his grip loosening slightly, though his eyes burn with a mix of panic and anger. “Come on, baby. I love you. Don’t do this.” His voice softens, pleading now, but I don’t trust it for a second.

“Let go of me, Brad. Now.”

He just stares, his grip a silent reminder that he thinks he still holds all the power.

I take a deep, calming breath, swiping up on the screen, my hand shaking. My voice is cold, resolute. “Test me. See what happens.”

“Fine.” He lets go and backs away from the door, arms raised in mock innocence. “But if you leave, everything you care about here is gone.” He walks to the console table as my hand grips the door handle. “Like this.”

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