Page 110 of Fang
I turn and go to the door. When I open it, a security guard is standing there, waiting.
Perfect. Just fucking perfect.
Like the dean said, the security guard follows me. From my car up to my room. As he waits for me to gather my things, anger builds within me, along with regret.
I regret not turning Zak in. I know I should have, but I had hoped that he would eventually leave me alone. I should have known better. I regret not telling Fang the full extent of Zak’s harassment. If I had, maybe this wouldn’t be happening right now.
Then again, maybe Fang would be locked up behind bars.
Either way, this situation fucking sucks.
How dare he play the victim?
Did Fang break his nose? Absolutely, but only because he wouldn’t take the fucking hint. He kept pushing and pushing and pushing until finally one of us cracked.
No, I refuse for this to play out in his favor.
Zak Brohan doesn’t get to win. Not now, not ever.
But how do I make sure he doesn’t?
Could I post about it on social media and pray it goes viral? The chances of that happening are slim. I don’t know anyone of importance who could get the word out either.
Bailey.
I need Bailey.
If anyone can make a man regret messing with them, it’s her. I bet she knows exactly what to do.
Standing, I gather the last of my things.
“That it?” the security guard asks,
Looking back, I scan the room, taking a snapshot in my memory in case I never come back. I turn back to him and nod.
This is it. Watch out, Zak Brohan. I won’t back down without a fight.
My feet are kicked up on the edge of Savage’s desk, and I’m reclined back in my chair, with my fingers crossed over my stomach.
“How’s it going over at the strip club?” Savage asks, sitting just like I am.
“Good.”
“One of the guys mentioned a new dancer. Said she wasn’t traditional, whatever the fuck that means,” he says, making me chuckle.
I shake my head. “She’s a ballerina.”
“Little far from home, no?”
I shrug. “She came to us, draws in a crowd, and yes, before you ask, she does wear her little slipper things while on stage.”
Savage tilts his head back and laughs. “I would have asked about a tutu, but that works.”
“I’m sure she will find a way to make that work.”
He shakes his head. “Anyway, I talked to Colt.”
“Yeah, how is he?”
