I let him finish with the lies and the threats that followed. Adjusted my glasses. Unhurried.
"I'd lose money." I held his gaze. "I have money."
I let that land.
"What I don't have is tolerance for a man who puts his hands on a woman and then stands in my parking garage calling her a liar," I continued.
Hart shifted his weight. I didn't move.
"My legal team will be in touch with yours soon." I straightened my cuffs slowly, trying my best to stay restrained. "I also suggest you consider, very carefully, whether you want this to be resolved quietly or publicly."
I stepped closer. Close enough to see the calculation behind his eyes start to falter.
"Because I have the resources and the motivation to make it very, very public."
His irritation sharpened into anger. "You’re willing to destroy a major partnership because your assistant got upset?"
The words landed wrong.
Assistant. Upset. Like Anna was some irrational inconvenience instead of a woman trying very hard not to fall apart after seeing her abuser again. Something dangerous moved low in my chest.
"You should leave," I said quietly.
Tobias stared at me. "Excuse me?"
"You should get in your car and leave before I stop being reasonable."
His eyes narrowed, and for one long second neither of us moved.
Then he scoffed. "This is insane."
"No." My voice stayed calm. "What’s insane is thinking you can hurt someone in my building and walk away untouched."
"You have no proof."
"I don’t need proof to decide who I work with."
"You’ll regret this."
"No," I warned. "You will."
I turned and walked away before the urge to hit him became something harder to control. My footsteps echoed through the garage. I didn’t look back. Because if I looked back, I might’ve broken his jaw.
The elevator doors slid shut in front of me. Only then did I realize how hard I was breathing.
My hands shook in anger. I curled them into fists and held them there until they stopped.
I leaned my head back against the elevator wall and closed my eyes. All I could see was Anna’s wrist. Red fingerprints against olive skin. His hands on her.
The thought made my stomach twist hard enough to hurt.
I wanted to hit him. Fuck, I wanted to. Wanted to feel his jaw crack under my fist and wipe that smug expression off his face permanently.
But violence came with consequences. Blood. Skin contact. Contamination. My brain would spiral so fast I’d drown in it.
So I’d kept control. Barely.
The elevator opened onto my floor. I walked straight to my office bathroom and locked the door behind me. Then I ripped the gloves off and shoved my hands under scalding water.
