Page 33 of Unfolding Kiara

After the dessert was served, I looked at the chocolate mousse and felt bile rising in my mouth. I quickly excused myself to the washroom and splashed some cold water on my face.It is nothing, Ethan.Just calm down. Count to ten. I wiped my face and stared at the blue-green eyes across me.

The door of the washroom opened, and I closed my eyes when it was the same lady who had sat beside me during the meal. Chris Moore’s wife, Sadie Moore. I clenched my jaw when she trailed her hand on my arm, but I still felt her touch through my suit. I straightened up, easily towering in front of her, and she dropped her hand.

“I . . . I would like that,” she whispered, her eyes wide with lust.

I tilted my head.

“I want you to do that, Ethan. I have heard rumors about—”

Waving her off, I said, “Not tonight. Go find someone else.” My eyes raked over her curvy frame and met hers. I smirked, “You wouldn’t be able to handle it, anyway. Goodnight, Mrs. Moore. Tell your husband I said hello.”

Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment as I left her alone in the washroom. I checked my phone, seeing three missed calls from Aretta and one from my mom. After letting my agent know I was leaving, I made my way out of the hotel and breathed in the warm crisp air of Los Angeles. The atmosphere was dark with few glowing lights decorated along the porch of the hotel. I wondered whether I should pack my bags to go back to San Diego, visit my family, or go visit Aretta. I looked up at the night sky and waited for my driver.

I frowned, hearing a commotion over my shoulder. My mouth set in a grim line when I saw who it was, Richard Jane. Sliding my hands in my slacks, I turned toward them and saw that the hotel security was far away from the reporter, his cameraman, and the model they wanted to interview. I was about to turn away, thinking it was an everyday thing when I heard her words.

“Please move away,” her voice was stern. Her heels clicked against the cobblestone when she took a step back as he got too close to her.

My jaw clenched and palms turned into fists when the cameraman zoomed in on her face. But I had my doubts that he was zooming in on something else.

Richard’s voice was low and heavy, his face wrinkled with age as he was nearing his fifties. Still the best Hollywood reporter out there. He leaned in and asked, “Just answer one question, Ma’am. Did you or did you not frame the nip slip at Coachella?”

I rolled my eyes.Are you fucking kidding me?

She flinched away, giving him a disgusting look. “I am not going to answer that, and it’s none of your fucking business.” Her hands were on his chest, trying to get away from him, “Seriously, move the fuck away.”

Images flashed in my mind. Her wavy brown hair mussed, puffy eyes stained with tears, lips quivering and her hands in fists.Just because of men like him.I swallowed the lump in my throat thinking about that diary page which had blurry words because her tears had smudged the black ink on the paper.

I couldn’t watch this any longer.

“She told you to move, Jane.”

The cameraman turned toward me, so did Richard and Emma. She was an aspiring model, and after working with her on a couple of shoots, I knew how sweet she was. He stepped back from her and flared his angry red nose at me.

“Shove it, Ethan. Is there something going on between you two? It will make a great headline. Ethan Kane strikes another model’s pussy again,” he chuckled, his yellow-stained lower teeth grinning at me.

I didn’t feel like giving him a reply and raised my palm for her. She accepted it with a small smile, and I pulled her closer, away from Richard.

“Let him be, Ethan. He is an asshole,” she whispered when I turned to escort her away from there.

“What did you just say, you bitch?” Richard spat.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of my lips, but Emma yelped when she was pushed down from behind. I helped her up, seeing a slight bruise on her knee. I asked her if she was okay. She was not. She looked like she was about to cry.

I looked at him, anger boiling inside me, and without even thinking, I threw my fist at his nose. He screamed, but I held his collar with my throbbing knuckles and said, “Dare to even think about touching someone like that again and I will break your arm.” I pushed him away, glaring at him when he whimpered, trying to control the bleeding from his cracked nose, “Watch your fucking tongue.”

I helped wide-eyed Emma away from there.

I asked, “You okay?”

She was shaking.

“You didn’t need to punch him. He will press charges against you.”

“I would love to see him try.”

The driver was waiting for me in my Mercedes. I opened the door and said to her, “Get inside. You were clearly waiting for someone to arrive, but I am not letting you wait out here alone. Tell him the address and he will drop you off.”

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head, “I can’t have that, Ethan. I am really thankful for this, but you don’t have to.”

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