Brett Danners. Who wants to hire Emma.
She thinks I don’t like Brett because of the photos of Allegra making out with him on a film set recently. But I couldn’t give a shit about that. I find myself surprisingly chill at the thought of her hooking up with him.
No, I don’t trust Brett because I’ve heard the way he speaks about women, as if they’re a commodity. And I saw the way he acted when he was at a party at my house last month, an invite from Allegra, not me. He put his arm around Emma. And when he leaned down to talk to her, he got way too close, whispering in her ear. She took a step back. But when she walked away, Brett eyed her ass with a creepy fucking smile and said something to the guy standing next to him. They both laughed and leered, watching her cross the room.
And now he suddenly wants to hire her to do some side project? I don’t like it.
“Hey, Blake. How’s it going?” he slurs, holding out a hand for a bro-shake. The man is wasted.
I nod in greeting, my frown not lifting. “I hear you want Emma to work for you,” I say, getting straight to the point.
I cross my arms over my chest. His hand falls to his side, and his brow furrows. “Work? Who?” he slurs.
“Emma Reynolds. My personal assistant.”
“Ah, her.” His grin is slimy. “What? Don’t like sharing?”
I’ve never given a fuck about “sharing” anyone in the past.
But this is Emma. She’s my employee. And I protect what’s mine.
That thought almost makes me smile because I’d get another blistering lecture from her—citing macho bullshit—if she heard me say that.
“What do you want with her?” I ask, pretending a cool I don’t feel.
“Dude, it’s not a big deal. I need some help organizing my office while my assistant is away. And everyone knows Emma’s the best. She said she had the time.”
I tilt my head, trying to judge his sincerity. Am I overreacting? It’s true that Emma’s assistant skills are legendary. She’s helped many of my costars, and they’ve sung her praises around Hollywood. I don’t love that she takes on these projects because she shouldn’t work so hard. But up until now, she’s only done them for friends.
And that’s not Brett. Years in this business have given me a Spidey sense about who to avoid. And Brett triggers that intuition.
He smiles crookedly. “Plus, I like watching her in that tight skirt. The plain ones usually go the extra mile to please. She may act hard to get and say no, but I bet she’s a fucking slut once you pull her ponytail and get her skirt up around her ass.”
That’s as far as he gets. Anger, strong and sharp, crashes through me, reaching deep into every sinew and cell. There’s the visceral need to teach him fear. Show him the meaning of pain.
Brett’s smarmy grin falls away to something approaching nerves as he sees my face.
“I’ll rip your throat out if you ever say her name again,” I growl.
He lunges at me, which I sidestep.
When I finally land a punch to his jaw, it’s fierce and infinitely satisfying. Then I slam my fist into his stomach, knocking him to the ground.
There is no world in which Emma would ever be fair game.
“I’ll ruin you if you ever come near her,” I grit out while standing over him.
I look up to see a camera recording.Fuck.
And that’s when the bar’s security arrives. A beefy man with a shaved head grabs my arm. I shake him off and stride towardthe exit while everyone gapes and Brett Danners moans, asking if his face is okay.
It would have been badass.
If it hadn’t been for the two cops who were in the bar. And are now walking toward me.
CHAPTER 8
Emma
