“I work there, Daniel. I have a job. Or did you forget that part when you were busy putting yourself first?”
“That’s not fair.”
“Nothing about this is fair.” I hear traffic noise in the background. “I’m already almost there. I’ll see you inside.”
“Bailey, don’t—”
Shehangs up.
Dread twists low in my gut. I text security immediately: Bailey Rodgers arriving soon. Clear the entrance. Keep press back.
Then I race downstairs, getting out just as she arrives. Reporters swarm her the moment she steps out of her car, so much that they swallow the securitymen trying to keep the back. Cameras flash like strobe lights, and voices shout over each other.
“Ms. Rodgers! Were you dating before you got hired?”
“Is it true you’re an escort and you’re doing this for money?”
I watch Bailey try to push through, head down, shoulders squared. Security is forming a barrier, but there are too many reporters, too much chaos. Then one of them grabs her arm, and I’m bolting through them, pushing and shoving before I consciously decide to.
“Ms. Rodgers!” The reporter yanks her closer, microphone shoved in her face. “Everyone thinks you’re a whore who—”
I don’t let him finish.
I shove through the crowd, grab his wrist, and twist until he releases Bailey. “Get your fucking hands off her.”
“Mr. Williams, I was just—”
“You were assaulting my employee.” I pull Bailey behind me, putting my body between her and the crowd. “Security! Clear these people out. Now.”
Cameras are everywhere, capturing every second. I can see phones raised, recording, broadcasting this moment to thousands of people in real-time.
I don’t care.
“Everyone back! This is private property. Anyone who doesn’t leave immediately will be arrested for trespassing.”
Backup security finally catches up, forming a wall between us and the press. I keep Bailey tucked against my side as we push toward the entrance.
“Daniel, how much are you paying her?”
“Is it true she’s a PR prop?”
“What do you say to accusations that you’re manipulating investors?”
I ignore every question, focused only on getting Bailey inside safely.
The doors finally close behind us, muffling the chaos outside. Bailey pulls away from me immediately, stumbling slightly. Her breathing is rapid, and her hands are shaking.
“Are you okay?” I reach for her.
She steps back. “Don’t.”
“Bailey—”
“I said don’t.” Her voice is sharp, but I can hear the tremor underneath. “I’m fine.”
She’s not fine. Her mascara is smudged, probably from tears she won’t let fall. There’s a red mark on her arm where that bastard grabbed her. Rage floods through me so intensely that I have to clench my fists to keep from going back outside and finishing what I started.
“Come to my office,” I say, trying to gentle my tone. “We need to talk.”
