I see how happy Ash and Cay are, and I want that for me.
“Set it up,” I decide, raising my glass in a toast. “To new beginnings.”
“To new beginnings.” Cay and Ash grin conspiratorially as we clink glasses, and I sincerely hope this means I have turned a corner.
Because I desperately need it.
ChapterSeventeen
Jared
Istorm into my Bel Air house with steam billowing out of my ears. “Tor!” I roar as I stomp down the hallway, stopping to throw my keys in the bowl on the hall table. “Where are you?” Popping my head into the kitchen and the living room and finding it empty, I take the stairs two at a time, heading for my master suite on the top level. My anger mushrooms with every step, and I’m fit to explode. My ex-fiancée is testing my patience to the limit, and I’m close to cracking.
We returned from our tour two weeks ago, and I immediately broke things off. The sense of utter relief was enormous. It was like this giant boulder lifted from my shoulders. Predictably, Toria pitched an epic hissy fit, screaming and crying and shouting threats when throwing things at me didn’t work. I’m glad I took Linc and Wilder home with me for the confrontation. I had a feeling I would need witnesses.
I told her to take whatever time she needed packing up her stuff even though it shouldn’t take long as she only moved in after I proposed. But she’s still here, and she’s already playing games. I know she has her apartment in downtown L.A. because she’d signed a lease for a year, so it’s not like she has nowhere to go. If she didn’t, I would have found her some place to live. I’m not heartless, and I already told her I would ensure she is well looked after.
“Tor!” I yell again as I race down the hallway toward my bedroom. “Fucking answer me!” She fired the nurse I hired even though she had no right to do it as I’m the one paying her wages and she reports to me. The poor woman refuses to return even with my offer to triple her already generous salary.
Toria managed to traumatize her ina fucking week.
I rue the day I ever let my publicist set me up with her. If I’d said no, I would not be in this mess.
The door to my bedroom slams open, and my fists clench at my sides when I see the state of the place. It’s like I’ve been burglarized. Piles of clothes fight for floor space alongside empty vodka bottles, overturned takeout cartons, stale, half-eaten doughnuts, crumpled pizza boxes, and used tissues. Drawers are pulled out, the contents tossed haphazardly over the floor. One of the drapes has been torn from the top, and it’s hanging precariously off the pole. Several windows display cracked panes of glass.
I would probably be happy she’s eating, even if it’s a ton of junk food that’s bad for the baby, except the sight of alcohol has me fit to throttle the selfish bitch. Tapping out a message to my assistant, I ask her to send a medical team, the cops, my lawyer, and Toria’s lawyers to my house ASAP. I want this documented officially, and then I’m taking Toria to court to fight to protect my unborn child. This is fucking unacceptable.
My rage only accelerates when my ex saunters out of the en suite bathroom, completely naked, and proceeds to fling her arms around me. “Baby,” she slurs, trying to kiss me. “I missed you.”
Taking care to be gentle, which is harder than it might seem, I lift her away from me. “Don’t touch me, Tor. I am not yours to touch anymore.”
“Imma not leaving.” She sways as she pierces me with a venomous look. “You’ll have evict me. See how fans like that!”
“You’re drunk,” I snarl, taking pictures of my ruined room.
She flips me the bird.
“You’re hurting the baby. This is not fucking okay, Tor.”
“This your fault.” The waterworks start. “You did this to me. Ruin my body.” She waves her hands up and down her naked body. “Ruin career.”
“No,” I say, scooping a black cotton dress up from the floor, scowling as I spot burn marks on my expensive rug. Was she fucking smoking?! “You did that to yourself.”
I wonder what she said to my housekeeper to keep her out of here because downstairs doesn’t look like this. I might think she hadn’t left this bedroom except I know she’s the one who leaked the news of her pregnancy to the media, and I’m guessing she did that in person because she wouldn’t want any phone records tracing back to her.
“I know you tipped off the media.”
It makes no sense. All along, she’s been refusing to eat because she was worried about her career, so why would she out herself? Linc thinks this has been her plan all along. He thinks she got pregnant on purpose to trap me, and I am coming around to his way of thinking. Linc says not telling her manager and booker she was pregnant was strategic so they’d fire her when she showed up to jobs pregnant. He thinks she plans to milk me for every cent, and I threw a wrench in the works when I dumped her manipulative ass. So this is Plan B. Fall apart and pin the blame on me. Portray herself as the injured party. I knocked her up and then kicked her to the curb, and she turned to drink in a way to purge her pain. Make me out to be the bad guy when I am bending over backward to take care of her even if I fucking hate her guts, and at this point, I do.
Unfortunately, our PR people think she can garner sympathy by putting this spin on it. They have warned me to be cautious, as have my lawyers. Right now, my priority is my baby, and I will do whatever is necessary to protect my unborn child from his selfish, reckless mother.
“Put that on.” I hand the dress to her.
“No.” She throws it back at me, cupping her slightly enlarged breasts and pinching the nipples. “We fuck and make up.”
I’d rather fuck a guitar.
Grabbing fistfuls of my hair, I pace the room and try to contain the turmoil raging inside me. She’s riling me up to trick me into doing something she can throw back at me, and I can’t let her.
