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“Okay, darling.”
“I’m coming.”
“Don’t rush back.”
“I’m coming right now.”
I hear her stifle her sob and lose my footing on the stairs, sending me down three steps to the tiled floor with a slap.
“Go and see Mason, sweetheart. He’ll look after you.”
I feel nothing as I pull myself up and carry on to the door.
“Scarlet!”
I frown at the sound of Lance’s voice. The fear. The unknown.
He’s erratic.
Irrelevant.
I need my shoes.
My body whirls. “My shoes, I need my shoes.” I whip past him and into his office, searching for my boots. “Where are they?”
“Here. Scarlet, please, look at me!”
I take them from his hands and pull them on as my mind reels.
“Scarlet, sorry. I just wondered how soon you’ll be home?”
No.
I run for the elevator. Yell for Lance to make it move. Beg him desperately to make it go quicker.
When it eventually reaches his parking garage, he grabs my arm, a devastated look on his face. “Scar…”
I look up at him, shaking my head. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
He flinches, coming to a halt as if I’ve slapped him.
“I never should have been here with you.”
I shake my arm free, leaving him frozen in place as I run for my car.
I start the engine, not looking back as I drive out of the garage and onto the street.
It doesn’t take long for Lance to appear in my rearview mirror, and he follows me the entire way, weaving behind my car as I take every back road I know home.
And when my car judders to a stop a mile from the estate, petrol tank empty, I scream through the tears that fall. I fight him, kick him as he tries to take me from my car and put me into his.
I yell at him.
I yell the most horrid things at the man who only wants to help.
At the man I fucked while my dad died.
Alone.
