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At her side, her hands are clenched into fists. One containing her phone.
I barge past her, heart thumping wildly as I slam the door shut behind me. “Briar, I found?—”
She swings at me.
I manage to jump out of the way, dodging her attack. Her teeth are bared as she aims a fist at my head, emitting a guttural scream.
“Briar, what the fuck?” I hold my hands up. No fucking clue what I did to deserve this.
“You picked the wrong fucking woman to mess with, motherfucker!”
When she swings at me again, I catch her wrist. “Mess with you? What are you talking about? What the hell’s going on?”
“Don’t play stupid!” she screeches, cheeks flushed with fury. “You fucked someone!”
“What are you talking about? When? Before I met you, yes.”
Her nostrils flare. “And after.”
I shake my head, jaw hard. “No. I wouldn’t do that. You’re the only woman I’ve wanted since I met you.”
“Then explain this fucking video.” She thrusts her phone into my hand.
On the screen, amateur porn plays, the woman emitting falsetto moans that any man experienced in pleasuring a woman can easily discern as fake.
My heart stammers when it becomes clear the video was filmed in the office in my rental. The man wearing my mask.
April Emmons is riding him.
What the fuck?
April covers too much of his body in the mirror to try to decipher the possible identity of the man behind the mask. Disguising his silhouette enough to convince my muse that I’ve betrayed her.
“That isn’t me.”
Briar rolls her eyes dramatically, snatching the phone back. “Right. I’m supposed to believe April broke into your house with some random guy, he put your mask on, and they fucked in your office. All to send me a video.”
My temper flares. “I’m telling you that’s exactly what happened.”
Her laugh is short and mirthless. I step toward her, but she backs away, shaking her head as angry tears spill down her cheeks. My chest constricts. She’s pulling away from me. I thought I was finally getting through to her, getting her to put her trust in me, and she believes I cheated on her.
“You must think I’m a fucking idiot.” She lets out a heartbroken, maniacal laugh. “This is why you said April wasn’t stalking me. You were covering for her because you’re fucking her.”
Another step toward my muse. Another step in retreat. Our new dance. “No. I didn’t cheat on you, muse. You know I would never hurt you.” Another step, and she doesn’t back away this time, keeping her chin high. “I thought you said you trusted me.”
“Trust you?” she scoffs. “Trevor was right—you brainwashed me, made me think I could overlook the bright red flags that were waving right in front of my fucking face. You actually made me believe you when you said you’d never hurt me. All so I wouldn’t see it coming. But guess what, motherfucker? You won’t win this game. I’m done playing. Trevor has the footage from the parking lot the day you broke the window on my car. You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m letting you get away with all this shit.”
I close the distance between us, and she swallows, bravery wavering as I loom over her. “Trevor doesn’t have shit.”
“He does. He has proof of what you’ve done.” Briar shoves at my chest, attempting to push me away. And despite everything, the brush of contact makes me want to sweep her up into my arms and fuck her against the door.
“He can’t have proof because I’m not the one who smashed your window,” I growl, beyond sick of Dickhead Trevor.
I should’ve gotten rid of him the day I met him. Now he’s a bigger problem than Professor Molester ever was.
This is how he hurt all those women. He manipulated them, made them believe he was harmless, trustworthy. Now he’s doing the same to my muse.
“That wasn’t me in the video, Briar. That was Trevor.”
