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Before that, my mother thrust me into Hollywood, making me a child star, and now all of this.
I knew I was going to have to face their ire. But truly, it’s done now, and they’ll simply have to learn to live with it. That thought floats me up the elevator and down the long hall toward the suite as a smile quirks up my lips. I go to take a sip of my now-tepid coffee, just as a strong hand snatches my arm and slams me up against the door of the room next to mine. The coffee goes tumbling from my hand, spilling most of it down the front of my yoga shirt before landing on the carpet and splattering everywhere. And while I was annoyed it wasn’t hot before, I’m beyond grateful it’s not now.
“What the fuck, Ezra?!” I shove him back, using the cardboard carrier and coffee that’s still in my other hand to create some distance between us, hoping some of it spills on him in the process. “This is getting way out of hand.”
“Out of hand?” he snaps, grabbing the coffees and setting them down on the floor. “I haven’t seen you or spoken to you in over a week, Georgia, and I was looking forward to seeing you here so we could work this out between us, and then not only do you show up fucking married, but I have to listen to you fucking him all night?”
That last part is a bit of an oops, and it wasn’t intentional. And now that I get a better look at him, he does appear as though he didn’t get a lot of sleep. Still, he always liked making me look like the crazy, irrational one. Like, he wasn’t being overbearing or controlling, but rather attentive and concerned for my safety. Like, he wasn’t being isolating, he just wanted me all to himself. Like, he didn’t want me financially dependent on him, he just didn’t want me to work so he could take care of me.
If our relationship hadn’t all but been arranged and I had been blinded by love, I might not have seen the warning signs. Possibly not until it was too late.
“I don’t know what you want me to say. We broke up months ago, and I’ve repeatedly told you we have nothing left to discuss with that.”
His hands fly around him. “Bullshit. We have everything to talk about. Goddammit, Georgia. How could you marry him?”
Because I don’t want him to be able to state marriage fraud or try and contest it, I say, “Lenox and I reconnected shortly after I ended it with you and have been talking since. I love him. I always have.” If I was still the Georgia of six years ago, that wouldn’t even be a lie.
He grips my shoulders and gets right up in my face. “You know he doesn’t love you, right? That he’s using you.”
“There is this saying about stones and glass houses and also black pots and kettles. Are you familiar with them? Maybe you can remind me exactly how they go.”
His hand slides up along my cheek, and he stares into my eyes. “That’s not how it was for me. I wanted to marry you.”
My hands plant into his chest and I push him off me. “You wanted to own me. You wanted to suffocate the life out of me until all I knew was you. But more than that, you wanted my money, and you wanted Monroe.”
He growls, running a hand through his hair and making it stick up all over the place from all the product he has in it. “And all he wants to do is fuck you and take your money!” he shouts. “Jesus, Georgia, use your brain and see what’s right in front of you. At least I’m trying to grow our empire. Marrying me makes sense. There is no sense in marrying him.”
Except for the freedom it gives me from you and this life.
“I love him, and it’s done. There is nothing you can do about it now.”
Something about that, as if he just finally realized it’s done and he won’t win this battle, sets him off. He starts to charge at me, mania dancing in his brown eyes, and I react the same way I would to a predator coming to attack me in a dark alley. Years of martial arts tell me to take him down, and I do so the fastest way possible. The second he reaches me with his hands outstretched like he’s going to pin me, I strike. My knee flies up, and I nail him straight in the balls, my fists at the ready should I need to punch him.
His face puffs up like a red blowfish, and he grunts as he falls to the carpet in a heap just as the door to my suite flies open and there is Lenox wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, his hair wet and unbrushed like he just got out of the shower and heard the commotion.
“Morning, darling,” I drawl, trying to ignore how freaking hot he looks like that. Hello, wet skin, tattoos, and nipple rings. “Glad to see you’re finally awake.” I smile brightly at him, and his gaze drops to the man on the floor, still groaning and holding his junk as he snarls out expletives. “I’m starving, and since most of my coffee ended up on my shirt instead of in my stomach, I’d love to?—”
Lenox cuts off my words as he grabs me by my upper arm and swings me inside the suite, slamming the door shut on Ezra. He drags me into the living room and releases me, doing a long, sweeping once-over of me as if he’s checking for injuries.
“Did he hurt you?”
I shake my head.
“Did he touch you?”
“He got handsy but not aggressive so much until the end. I wasn’t sure what he was going to do, so I took a proactive approach.”
He nods, pleased with this, but then, before I know what the hell he’s doing, he spins around and storms back for the door. I scramble after him, grabbing his arm.
“What are you doing?”
“You didn’t kill him, Georgia. I’m going to kill him.”
“What?!” I laugh the word. “No. Stop.” I jump in front of him and press my hands into the giant wall of muscle that is his chest. I push against him, but he keeps walking, and even though I’m leaning all my body weight into him, digging into the floor with the balls of my feet for extra leverage, he keeps going, pushing me along as if I’m barely a hindrance. “Oh my God, Thor, stop! You can’t kill him!” My feet slide back along the carpet. “He’s not worth the jail time.”
And since Ezra is the sort of man who would press charges, I take matters into my own hands. Twisting my body, I plant my left foot into the carpet and drop into a crouch, sweeping my right leg in a fan motion as fast and as hard as I can—because, let’s face it, Lenox is a big guy—straight into the backs of his legs. His legs swoosh out from beneath him—the leg sweep far more effective than I thought it would be on him—and he goes crashing down to the floor, landing with a hard thud on his back.
“Holy hell! That’s two I brought down today.” I climb on top of him, straddling his chest so he doesn’t get any ideas to try and go for Ezra again. “Are you okay? Can you breathe?” I’m worried I knocked the wind out of him.
