A Chance Encounter

I rush over to him and loop my arms around his waist.

“What’s going on, Dash? Is it the baby?”

I glance up at him and our eyes lock. “It’s Freeman,” I choke out. “He came to see me. He’s going to take Kendall.”

“Like hell he is,” Easton growls. He walks us over to the couch and sits us down with me situated in his lap. “Talk to me, baby,” he says, tucking strands of hair behind my ear.

Through my sobs, which I try and fail to contain, I explain from beginning to end my run-in with Freeman. The entire time Easton listens, his jaw is locked in anger. When I finish, he kisses me softly and says, “Thank you.”

“For what?” I ask, confused.

“For letting me in. For not running or pushing me away.” He lifts me off him and sets me on the couch. “I’m going to handle this.” He walks over to the counter where he keeps his keys and wallet and shoves them into his pocket.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, I—” His words are interrupted by the buzzer going off. Where we live, those who don’t live here, or have the access code, have to buzz to be let into the building. From there, they can come to our door. Easton insisted wherever he lives has this feature, since his crazy fans have been known to stalk and find him. In California, he lived in a gated community. In New York City, it’s a little different, but at least this way, there’s a second barrier between us and the outside world.

My eyes meet Easton’s, my stomach bottoming out. There’s no way it’s Freeman…

“Hello?” Easton says over the intercom.

“Hello. I’m looking for Sophia Davis.”

“And you are?” he asks.

“Rachel Deluca. I would like to speak to Sophia regarding a personal matter.”

He looks at me and I shake my head, having no clue who she is.

“Regarding what matter?” he asks.

“Freeman Carmichael.”

What. The. Fuck.

“You can come up.” He buzzes her in.

“Oh my God, Easton,” I cry out. This can’t be a coincidence. I was just with Freeman a little while ago and now a woman is wanting to discuss him. “Do you think she’s his lawyer? She could be coming to serve me, to try to take Kendall away.”

“Stop,” he demands gently. “You’re stressing yourself out and it’s not good for you or the baby. Nobody is taking that little girl from us.”

There’s a knock on the door, and Easton opens it. Standing on the other side is a redheaded woman with pale skin and freckles, dressed in business attire.

“Good morning,” she says, her eyes focusing on me. “Sophia Davis?”

“Yes,” I say, as she steps over the threshold.

“I was wondering if we could have a word…” She glances quickly at Easton then back at me. “In private.”

“Anything you have to talk about can be done in front of my fiancé.”

She purses her lips, not liking that answer. “Very well.” She hands me what appears to be a business card. “I would like to ask you a few questions about your association with Governor Freeman Carmichael.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” I insist, trying with everything in me to come across as nonchalant, but my voice gives me away.

“I saw you with him,” she accuses, her eyes narrowing. “Is he scared?” She smirks evilly. “I knew the second he saw that picture of you two he would go running straight to you.”

“Who the hell are you?” Easton asks, placing himself in front of me protectively.

“I am a journalist, doing an exposé on Freeman Carmichael.”

“Where did you get that picture from?” No point in denying it. She already knows, and it’s clear she’s the one who sent it. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing? Who you’re messing with?”

“Oh, I know exactly who I’m messing with, and if I have it my way, when I’m done, he’ll never be able to mess with another woman again.”

Something about the way she says it makes my stomach roil. Freeman’s obviously screwed her over and it’s clear, unlike me who’s trying to stay out of his way, she’s out for his blood.

“How did you get that picture of them?” Easton asks.

“From another woman he fucked over,” she says matter-of-factly. “Something he’s done to a lot of women over the years. I’m going to write my story and expose him for the piece of shit he is, whether you cooperate or not, but I’d prefer if you’d cooperate. You’re a victim, just like the rest of us.”

My gaze darts over to Easton. She knows and she’s going to put my business out there. Easton’s eyes meet mine and he shakes his head slightly, only enough for me to see.

“Does the woman who took the picture know anything?” he asks.

“Other than the fact that you two had a summer fling, no. I dug and found out the result of that fling.”