“It’s nothing compared to what you’ve done to me, you fucking bitch!” He lifted his hand as though to slap me, and I flinched at the impending impact.
“What’s going on?” Ralph bellowed, causing Richard to jump back, dropping my arm. “Who the fuck are you? Get your fucking hands off her!”
“Who the fuck am I? Who the fuck are you?” Richard spun around, looking to see where the voice had come from.
Considering Ralph was almost as big as Drew and Richard definitely was not, it was unsurprising he backed down when Ralph towered over him.
Spineless fucktard.
I picked up the bag I’d dropped and ran to the car, getting in and out of the way as quickly as I could.
What had just happened?
I rubbed my arm where he’d squeezed me. It was sore and throbbing where the blood had started to flow back into it properly again. My pants were wet where the coffee had spilled and I tried to rub them dry, but my hands were shaking. I shoved them between my legs, making them still.
“This isn’t over, Emerson!” he yelled as he stormed off.
Ralph waited until he was out of sight then got back in the car, turning around. “Are you okay? Who was that?”
I dropped my head, not wanting him to see my tears of shock. “My ex-boyfriend.”
“Has he done that before?”
“No, not like that.” I shook my head.
He frowned at me. “I don’t like that, Emerson.”
“Yeah, me either.”
He eyed me, his expression soft and worry filled. “Do you still want to go to work?”
I nodded. “Yes, I have to.”
His forehead creased in a frown. “Okay.”
He started the engine and drove off, dropping me at the studio ten minutes later.
“Thank you. Thank you for driving me and for saving me. I made you some coffee, but I dropped it when…”
He looked me over. “Emerson, you’re welcome. Are you sure you’re okay?”
I nodded, clenching my still shaking hands.
“I’ll be driving you every morning from now on.”
I gave him a weak smile, opening the door to get out. He waited for me until I walked inside. The reception desk was empty and I headed straight into the locker room, stripping off my hoodie. Big purple fingerprints were wrapped around the top of my arm where he’d gripped me. Even through the thick material welts had formed, raised, and tender to my touch.
What a fucking fucker.
What was his fucking problem? I’d never seen him like that before. Maybe Drew was right, Richard was crazy.
He’d definitely looked it this morning.
I gulped down some water, pushing away the hot, thick tightening sensation creeping up my throat that I knew would erupt in tears if I let it, and I didn’t have time for a meltdown.I shook off the numbness creeping over me and gathered up my things, heading into the studio, desperately needing to focus on my class.
An hour later, I trudged up the stairs, exhausted. I’d worked everyone extra hard but had been unable to push the thoughts of Richard from my mind. I’d realized I hadn’t thought about him since that day Drew blocked him weeks ago. All that time had been so blissfully quiet without his missed calls and texts, and I didn’t want any of that back.
That would be a hard no.
