“—and it escalated from there. As I said, the first stone.”
Of course. “Fuck. I’m pressing charges.”
Anthony grimaces and runs his hands down his shirt and slacks. They’re ruined, but somehow he still manages to look elegant. “A nasty bodyguard would be faster and easier,” he says, glancing toward his enormous associate.
“Nobody asked you,” I say, even though I know it isn’t his fault. He helped Paige, and the good manners drilled into me all my life say I should thank him, but my internal alarm won’t shut up. Anthony helping Paige out of the goodness of his heart? Nope. I don’t buy it.
He shrugs, but ignores me otherwise. The bouncer wears a bland expression, like this is par for the course.
I pull out a handkerchief and wipe Paige’s face. “You can’t go back to your sister’s. It may not be safe.” I stop and swallow. “Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?”
“It wasn’t. Not…before.”
“Shit.”
Tremors run through me, and shame unfurls in the deepest part of my gut. Paige mentioned something about haters, but I never thought it was that big a deal. I took her safety for granted, the way I do my own. I have my share of crazy stalkers and psychos, but except for one crazy woman who tried to run me over, most would never dare attack me like this. Not in public, or in broad daylight. They just don’t have the courage to confront a tall, broad-shouldered man in his prime.
“Come on. Come home.” I have to have her under my roof where she’ll be safe. “You can move into the guest house. I don’t care. I can’t let you be out here by yourself. You were going to accept my proposal anyway.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know I screwed up. Her eyes focus with hard-edged annoyance, and she stiffens. “Even now? That’s what you’re thinking about?”
Of course not, but I don’t have the time or patience to convince her. I wish she were a little bit more like the vapid women who usually cling to me. “Paige… I phrased it wrong, but you know what I mean. You can’t be out here on your own.”
“Fortunately, she doesn’t have to,” Anthony says. “She can stay at my penthouse. I can assign TJ here to her for protection.”
I bare my teeth. “Over my dead body.”
“Oh, calm down. Unlike you, I don’t steal women. And I’m not going to be in town anyway. I’m leaving for Paris tonight.”
Does that mean he’s finished in L.A.? I’d love to have him be gone forever. That would leave me and Paige with one less issue.
Paige licks her lips, her gaze darting back and forth between me and Anthony.
Come on.
She nods at Anthony. “All right.”
Chapter Ten
Paige
Anthony’s penthouse isn’t that far from downtown. He doesn’t seem to mind that I soiled his car seat. I don’t want to know how much it’s going to cost to clean the leather.
He also didn’t gloat in the face of Ryder’s incredulous fury. I thought Ryder was going to take my wrist and drag me back to his Beverly Hills mansion anyway, but he somehow managed to restrain himself.
Given my interactions with Anthony, I assumed his place would be dark and gloomy. Instead it’s airy and bright with a tall ceiling and lots of big windows. The walls are mostly barren. There are a few paintings that somehow don’t count. I have the feeling that he bought them as investments rather than because he likes art. They’re framed and displayed in a professional but clinical manner. There aren’t any books or movies or music either. The floor is pristine oak, shiny and blemish-free.
I shiver, but my chill has nothing to do with the air conditioning blowing in my direction. It’s the sterility of the place. The glass-top tables and iron chairs only add to the lifeless appearance.
Unease runs a finger down my back.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I don’t collect moths, and there’s no basement with a pit.”
That startles me so much I snort a laugh.
“Are you all right?”
“As well as I can be. Thank you. And TJ, too.”