A Chance Encounter

“Go fuck yourself!” I spit. “My daughter is not a bastard. She’s a beautiful, smart, perfect little girl, and fuck you for even speaking about her.” My hands are shaking, and my body feels numb from the adrenaline rush, but it feels good to finally stand up to this bullying asshole.

“No, fuck you!” he booms. “What are you hoping to get out of this, huh?” He pulls something out of his back pocket and shoves it into my face. I home in on it and all the blood in my veins goes ice-cold. It’s an image of Freeman and me laughing. It was taken at the club I used to work at. We were both so much younger and looked carefree. I’m on one side of the bar and he’s on the other. Whoever took this picture must’ve been sitting at the bar as well.

“Where did you get that from?” I whisper in shock. It’s been almost eight years. This makes no sense. And there’s no way this image has gone public. Easton has an entire team of people who stay up to date on anything that exposes him—and now me.

“You tell me!” he barks. “It was left with my secretary with a note warning me that all my secrets will come to light.”

“It wasn’t me.” The last thing I want is anyone finding out about my past.

“If it wasn’t you then who the hell was it?” His eyes look manic, out of control, and out of instinct, my hands go to my belly to protect my baby, unsure of what he’s capable of. I’ve never seen him this mad and it scares me.

“Maybe someone else you fucked over.” Uncomfortable with his close proximity to me, I shove at his chest to get him away from me, and since he’s not expecting it, he stumbles back. “As far as I’m concerned, my daughter’s sperm donor is dead. I have never mentioned your name”—except to Easton—“nor have I seen that image.” I shove him again, but this time he’s prepared and doesn’t budge.

There’s a chair by the table and I pick it up and fling it at him. “Nobody knows we were together, so go back to whatever hole you crawled out of and stay the hell out of my life, and I’ll continue to do the same. If someone is threatening you, that’s your damn problem.” I step closer to the door, needing to get away. I don’t know what he’s capable of and I don’t want to find out.

“That’s where you’re wrong!” he shouts, shoving the chair out of his way. “It’s your problem too. Everything I worked my ass off for is about to go up in flames because of you! A fucking whore I made the mistake of sticking my dick into a few times.” He stalks toward me and I move back, inching closer to the exit. “I can tell you right now, if it gets out what happened between us, if whoever sent me this picture opens their mouth, my campaign is fucked, and then I’m going to have nothing to lose. And I promise you, I’m going to come after that kid, and if you think for a second any judge will grant a stripper custody over me, you’re fucking delusional.”

My eyes go wide at his words. He’s been watching me. That’s the only way he would know my old job. “You’re not going anywhere near my daughter!” I scream, refusing to cower to this piece of shit. “She’s mine!” I grab another chair that’s near me and kick it at him. “Over my dead body will you get anywhere near her!”

“If I find out it was you who sent that fucking picture, I’ll make sure you’re buried six feet under,” he sneers, throwing the chair to the side and stalking toward me. Thankfully, I’m now near the door and before he can catch up to me, I push it open.

“Go to hell!” I yell as I hurry out of the room and down the hall. I see Riggins on the phone, his features etched with worry.

“Where were you?” he asks, glancing around the hall. “You can’t just—”

“Let’s go,” I say, cutting him off. “We need to go, now.”

I fly out of the building and head straight to the parking lot, needing to get away from here. I need Easton. I need to tell him what happened. I need him to hold me and tell me it’s going to be okay.

Riggins follows me out, staying on my heels. The second we’re in the SUV, I feel like I can breathe a bit easier. He drives us to the house in silence. When we pull up, I grab my backpack and laptop case and exit the vehicle.

I’m up the sidewalk and into the house, screaming Easton’s name and praying he’s home. When he hears me, he comes flying down the steps. “What’s wrong?”