Page 92 of At First Smile
“Get the fuck away from her, asshole,” I growl, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him away.
“Who the—” His words are cut off when I slam him to the ground.
“That woman is not yours to touch. Do you understand me?” Clenching and unclenching my fists, I stalk closer to him.
Blinking, he scrambles up. “I repeat, who the fuck are you?”
“I’m hers,” I snarl. “Something you should not soon forget because if you touch her…look at her, I will?—”
“Rowan,” she gasps.
Her panicked voice halts my threats. As much as I want to grab this man’s throat and slowly squeeze the breath out of him like he’s tried to do to Pen over the last year, I step back. I don’t want to be the monster he is.
Stare still locked on Alex, his breath ragged, Dockers grass-stained, and button-up shirt askew, I move towards Pen. Chest heaving, I pull her to my side. The sensation of her body pressed against mine quells the beast rampaging inside me.
Alex straightens his shirt. “I think this is just a misunderstanding. Pen, I didn’t realize you were with someone. You should have said after the two sets of flower deliveries.”
“Flowers?” Creases line my forehead.
“You haven’t told him about my flowers?” Alex flashes an “Oh gosh, buddy.” grin. “Looks like she’s been playing both of us.”
“You’re the one playing games,” she croaks.
“I know, luv.” I kiss her temple and tuck her closer to my chest.
“Luv?” he scoffs. “Guess she has you under her spell too. She may look sweet but she’s a succubus. The moment she has you ensnared, willing to do anything for her, she’ll toss you aside.”
I take a step forward, but Pen holds me in place.
“I know who you are.” His mouth forms a serpentine smile. “Rowan Iverson. Haven’t you been in enough trouble lately? Wouldn’t want to add assaulting a respected doctor to the list, would you?”
“For her, gladly,” I seethe.
“Rowan, no.” She clings to my bicep. “He’s egging you on. This is what he does…spins things to his advantage. He wants toplay the victim, just like he’s done with our breakup. Anything to hide what he just did.”
“And what did I do?” He huffs a dismissive laugh.
“Ignored my request for you to stay away by asking your former medical school advisor to arrange for you to attend this event, then corner me in a secluded spot. To touch me without my permission.”
“Pen, you’re being dramatic.”
“Perhaps, but we’ll let HR figure it out.”
He blanches. “Excuse me?”
“See, you’ve been smart about skirting the line. Keeping things away from the hospital. Doing just enough to keep me knotted up but not enough that the police or HR would do something about it. But you fucked up today. This is a work-related event.” She crosses her arms over her chest, a stern expression on her face. “And I have a witness.”
“Your boyfriend there.” His response is snide.
“And my son.” Greg’s deep voice pulls our attention.
Greg, eyes narrowed, sits at the edge of the sidewalk, surrounded by three of his biggest clients. Eli Silverberg, my team captain, Carson Ono, quarterback for L.A.’s NFL team, and Kylie Tsan, goalie for the Women’s US Olympic Soccer Team, flank him. All three stand, arms crossed, and their glares focused on Alex.
“Damon said there was a man hurting Pen.” Greg’s stern stare turns warm and drops on Pen. “Are you alright, Pen?”
“I am.” With a small smile, she nods. “I’m so sorry for this, Greg.”
“Not your apology to make.” He gestures a thick finger at Alex. “Pen, would you like the police called?”
