Page 39 of His to Explore
“At least take my driver. Ask Andres or one of the other hosts to notify Victor. Can you do that for me?”
I want to refuse. The part of me that’s desperate to get away from him isn’t too excited about the idea of being in a car with his driver. But I know there’s no way he’s going to let me leave this building alone when I’m this upset. And deep down, I know it wouldn’t be safe for me to drive like this.
“Okay,” I agree. “But I don’t want you to follow me.”
The look on his face at those words almost brings me to my knees. Pain.I did that.
Another reason to go.
I turn and flee from the room, unable to take a second more.
It’shard to believe the front lounge is the same space we’d spent time in earlier in the evening. We’d sat in one of those booths, sharing a drink with the two men who agreed to help me with my stupid idea. Little did I know then how monumentally I would fuck it all up.
But my embarrassment over what happened in that room is overshadowed by what came next. The soul shaking realization that my arrangement with Grant has turned into something I never planned, something I definitely didn’t want.
When in the hell had I come to care about him so much? How could I, after everything I had been through, find myself thinking I could see forever with this man? I’d tried forever once before and I barely survived.
I never should have agreed to try more outside of our arrangement. All those dinners, nights in his house or mine, time spent cozied up in the public section of the club. What was I thinking?
I’m so lost in these thoughts as I scurry through the lounge, so desperate for my escape, that I very nearly go barreling intosomeone. “I’m so sorry,” I gasp out, not looking up to see the man’s expression. He’s probably looking at me like I’m crazy—I can’t really argue that at the moment.
So it comes as a shock when his hand comes out to grasp my wrist. The hold isn’t polite or gentle. Ithurts. My head snaps up and the face I see makes my stomach drop.
“Fred?”
He stares down at me, face twisted in a snarl I know well. “So this is what you’ve been doing with yourself?” he spits out. “Whoring around in a club like this? I can’t believe you, Makensie. I knew you were a fucking slut but I had no idea you were this disgusting.”
My knees feel weak, my entire body frozen, as I stare up into the furious face of my ex-husband.
GRANT
“Idon’t want you!”
I can’t begin to describe what those words did to me. I thought nothing would be worse than witnessing her breakdown during the scene. The panic she’d felt, the shame and guilt. Hearing her apologize—to me!—for something that had been completely my fault—it had gutted me. Holding her while she sobbed and tried to gain control of herself had broken my fucking heart.
But all of that was nothing in comparison to her telling me she didn’t want me. That she didn’t want me to follow her. That she would rather be alone than accept my comfort.
The only thing that kept me from falling to my knees was the realization of why she had freaked out so much.
I couldn’t do that with anyone but you.
I might have been a stupid idiot to allow what happened tonight to take place, but I wasn’t so dumb that I didn’t realize what was going on with her. It took trying to have sex with another man for her to realize that she didn’t want anyone else. That she only wanted me. And the realization had sent her into a panic.
God, I wish I could have convinced her to stay in this room. I could have convinced her that it would be okay, that we could take it slow. That I felt the same way about her, that I had from the very beginning. I could have held her and promised that I’d never hurt her, that I would always take care of her. She was afraid because of what her asshole ex-husband did to her, but I could show her that it would never be like that with me. That she would always be safe and in control.
She just needs time,I tell myself. I know my girl and I know what panic does to her. She needs a few hours to hole up in her apartment alone and come to terms with her feelings. Then I can go to her. When she’s ready, we can have the talk we need to have.
But there’s no way in hell I’m going to let her go running out of here alone when she’s this upset. She promised to use my driver, and I’m damn well going to make sure she follows through. I grab my phone and type out a quick text to Andres, the club host, asking him to ensure Ms. Milton gets to my driver. But I know I won’t be able to banish this sick worry in my gut until I see her safely in the car—with my own eyes. She doesn’t have to see me or know that I’m following. Fuck, at this point I’m pretty sure she’s too upset to even notice.
I find my discarded shirt and pull it on, then hurry from the room, working on the buttons as I go. I’ll just stand to the side of the lounge and watch. Make sure she goes to Andres to get my driver.
But what I find when I reach the lounge sends all thoughts of Andres and her getting home out of my head. Because there’s a man standing by the exit gripping Kensie’s arm. She staring up at him in horror, and I immediately see red.
“Mr. Anderson,” Andres says in his always-calm, always-together voice, sliding up beside me. “I haven’t seen Ms. Milton yet?—”
“She’s right there,” I snap, gesturing. I’m already striding in that direction, thinking only of getting those fucking hands off her. Andres follows. “Who the hell is that guy?”
“I believe that’s a Mr. Frederick Cunningham, sir,” he says. “He came in tonight as a guest of Mr. Gordon. A business deal, I believe.”
