On the quick trip back to her apartment, she fidgeted nonstop, irate with her family for calling us over to the ambush. I let her vent. Saying otherwise was like standing in front of a Mack truck, so I let her talk to calm down.
When we pulled up to the back entrance of her apartment, the paparazzi had it covered.
Fuck.
“Don’t say a word,” she said.
I killed the engine, opened my door, then went around to open Lourde’s. In a matter of seconds, they surrounded us. Flashing bulbs, pushing and shoving, and a barrage of fucked-up questions were thrown our way.
“Barrett, is what Jessica said the truth?”
“Do you regret that night?”
“Lourde, why are you standing by him?”
A vein ticked in my neck, and I wanted to punch every one of them out with an iron glove.
She squeezed my hand as if sensing my rage, and I shielded her from the crowd of people gathered around.
“You can do so much better than a monster, Lourde.”
Suddenly, her hand pulled out of mine, her body torn away out of my protection.
No!
“Stop!” Lourde yelled, reaching for me, the fear in her eyes casting a chill up my spine.
Pushing aside whoever was in my way, I reached for her hand, yanking her back into the safety of my arms. We’d reached the gate, and when I looked over my shoulder, the same fucker who grabbed her before was trying it again, this time throwing me a sly smile as he was grabbing her arm.
That was it.
With Lourde’s back against the gate and me standing in their way, I shoved my hands on his chest, pushing him back with a raging force—Jessica's press conference, The Diamond ambush, and his prick of a smile in one thunderous push that leveled him to the ground.
“Shit,” Lourde cried behind me.
He landed on the pavement, his head hitting the sidewalk. Cameras punched and bulbs flashed in strobes of bright white.
He gripped the side of his head. “You’re going to pay for that, Barrett.”
Sue me.
I didn’t give a fuck. I just wanted to get her to safety. A moment later, we were inside, riding the private elevator to her floor. The click of shutters and yelling voices had faded away to soft elevator music.
“Are you okay?” I scaled her from head to toe, unsure what I was looking for.
“Yes, I think so.” Glancing down at her clothes. someone had ripped her blouse in the colossal fuck of getting from the car to here. “That was crazy,” she said.
“They will do anything to get a headline, even provoke me, like that cocky little fuck.”
“Barrett, now you’ll be up for assault charges.”
“He attacked you, Lourde. I don’t give a fuck.”
“I know,” she whispered.
Fear clouded her eyes as she remembered the incident. I replayed the scene in my head as the elevator ascended. The doors pinged open, and I stood glued to the floor, reality punching me in the guts with a full-body punch.
I knew what I had to do.
I trudged behind her into her living room, like walking through wet cement.
Heavy legs.
Heavy heart.
I had to protect her. I couldn’t protect my sister or my mother from my violent father, but I could protect Lourde.
She threw her arms around me, her body against mine. Her tongue pushed past my teeth as I opened for her, matching her intensity in one last kiss. With the adrenaline of the crowd and everything I had, I kissed her back. I pulled her so close, wanting to taste her, breathe her in.
Then I pulled away quickly.
“Why did that feel different?” she asked.
I sighed. “Because your family’s right, Lourde.”
“No, don’t say that,” she said.
“With these allegations leveled against me, it paints you in a bad light.”
“We can get through it. Together.”
My heart ached. There wasn’t any way around it. I could see it now.
“No, it’s too complicated. I’m too complicated.” I stepped away from her, not trusting myself this close to her.
“Okay, I’ll admit this situation isn't easy, but—”
“But you deserve someone from a good family, Lourde, from an uncomplicated past.”
“Like Finigan?” she huffed out.
Just hearing his name on her lips made me fucking mad as a rattlesnake. He was everything I wasn’t.
“He is from a solid family.”
What are you doing, Barrett?