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“We will be five, maybe ten minutes; he’s still on a call.”
“Thank you, I’ll let Malcolm know.” I ended the call and looked up to find him in the room.
“Gisabell?” My stomach dropped at the sound of his voice. He pronounced my name as ‘Jizabell.’ It hadn’t been funny or appreciated the first million times he’d done it, and it wasn’t now.
Ignoring Byron, I said, “May said Mr. Ferguson’s on a call. It may be about ten minutes.”
“Gisabell, don’t ignore me.”
I’d much rather not have to deal with you at all, you pompous idiot! I’d never hated someone in my life until Byron. I was pretty sure I’d love to hug a cactus more.
“My assistant’s name is Gisella, but you may call her Ms. Edwards.”
Good God, not that either!
“Oh, I called her that for two years. The worst years of my life. She’s as useless as chaps on a giraffe.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me, man.”
“How do you know—”
“I’ll just go check on May.”
“Don’t run away, Gisabell. Why don’t you tell your boss who I am?”
Was he proud that he was an ex? He did know that wasn’t something to brag about, right?
“Ella?”
“He’s—”
“Her husband.”
“Ex! Ex-husband,” I ground out. “Or as I like to say, the worst two years of my life.”
I hadn’t realized Byron had moved so close to me until he was in my face.
“Is that so? Seems I was the miserable one.”
“You still are,” I seethed.
The sting of his hand hitting my cheek had tears pricking my eyes. Before I could react though, Malcolm was there, his hand going around Byron’s throat.
“Do not touch her. Ever.”
Malcolm outweighed him by at least fifty pounds of sheer muscle. Not to mention, Malcolm stood at 6’3” and Byron was, at most, 5’8”. He was lacking in other ways too, but that was neither here nor there.
“Ella, call security.”
I stood there, in shock, palm pressed against my now burning cheek.
“Ella, love, call security.”
“What’s going on here?”
“This sh—call security. He struck Ella. I want him out of here now.”
