princess,’ he snipes, cutting the call with the filthiest look on his face.
‘Don’t call me princess.’
He scoffs and lifts his arm high, a threatening look on his face. His intentions are clear.
‘Don’t you dare.’
Oh, he dares. His lip curls and his arm comes down fast, releasing my phone and slamming it into the ground. It smashes to smithereens, and pieces of my dead mobile dance around at my feet. What the fuck? But as if he isn’t happy enough that he’s destroyed my phone, he starts kicking the pieces all over the place, shouting and grunting as he does.
I watch with wide eyes and my mouth sealed firmly closed while Becker has a physical punch-up with my helpless mobile phone. Fuck. How am I meant to survive without my phone? In bloody London. Is it Becker Hunt’s ambition to completely ruin my life?
I’m not sure how long I stand staring at the scattered pieces – maybe a minute, maybe ten – but when he seems to be done and is puffing and panting from his exertion, I bring my eyes up to confront him. His handsome face is contorted with rage, though I detect a slight wrinkle of his brow, indicating confusion. He’s shocked by his actions, too.
‘Why did you even give me the job?’ I ask.
‘I was enjoying the foreplay,’ he growls without hesitation.
I’m speechless.
Almost.
‘I quit,’ I scream, kicking away a chunk of plastic near my feet before pivoting on my heels and storming off.
‘Good,’ Becker yells, the word punching into my back like a boulder. My poor mind is rampant with anger, too many emotions stirring, and before I can stop myself, I swing around to attack him with some home truths and hateful words. I’ve got nothing to lose now. As far as I’m concerned, he isn’t my employer any more. I just quit.
Yet when I open my mouth, no scathing words materialise, the insults getting caught behind the lump in my throat. His dishevelled magnificence hits me in the forehead like a bullet, leaving me standing like a useless lump of body parts before him. I’m . . . empty.
I came to London to escape the constant feeling of weakness that dogged me. I wanted to take charge, start fresh, discover a stronger me. I wanted desperately to chase my dreams, to live the life I choose, not the one dictated by my shitty circumstances. I’ve battled my conscience too long to get to this point in my life. This man currently staring me down, looking at me with a mixture of loathing and wariness, was a sure-fire way to fuck it all up. And he has. And worse still, I let him.
Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I shake my head a little, backing away, so disappointed in myself. I willingly let him drag me into his stupid mind games. I willingly let this happen.
‘Where are you going?’ he snaps, but I ignore him, turning and walking away with no urgency. ‘Eleanor.’
‘Home,’ I call over my shoulder, cool and collected.
I hear the even pound of his shoes beating the pavement behind me. ‘How?’
‘Cab.’ Just as I utter the word, a black Bentley pulls up to the kerb and the window slowly rolls down.
Brent.
‘You shouldn’t be wandering the streets this late at night, Eleanor,’ he says, leaning over to the passenger door and pushing it open. ‘Get in.’
I stall for a moment and look over my shoulder. Becker has come to a stop a few paces behind me, his face twisting, his nostrils flaring dangerously. I don’t want to aggravate him further, but right now my options are limited. I can get in the car with Brent Wilson and risk pissing Becker off even more – if that’s possible – or I can decline Brent’s offer, hang around for a cab with no phone, and risk getting caught up in another stupid row with my boss. I correct myself. Ex-boss.
It’s an easy decision.
I get in the car.
He doesn’t try to stop me, and I hate myself for feeling hurt by Becker’s lack of intervention. My head is fucked.
I pull on my belt and centre my attention forward as Brent pulls away. The wing mirror catches my eye and I see the reflection of a man walking on heavy feet in the middle of the road behind us. His stance is wide and he’s getting smaller in the distance, until we round a corner and I lose sight of Becker watching me leave him.