Beneath the Scars

He slammed his hand down on the table, the water jug and glasses shaking with the force of his action. An ugly sneer marred his face—the face I now knew to be his real one. What I ever saw in him, I couldn’t remember now. “Your inane declarations are tiresome. My publishers don’t like any of this bullshit. They may not publish the book with this hanging over it.”

“Good. It’s not your book to publish.”

His eyes narrowed. “It is.”

I glared back at him. “Well, we’re never going to agree on that fact.”

“I want my book published.”

“Then finish writing your other book, Jared. You can’t have mine. I don’t want your money.”

He glared at me. “What do you want, then?”

“For you to give me my book back.”

He shook his head, contemplating me with a knowing jeer. “I can quote ninety percent of this book to you right now, Megan. Can you do that? Since, as you say, it’s yours.”

“Of course not,” I snapped. “I wrote most of it two years ago and you made changes. You can quote it because you memorized the damn thing as you copied it. It proves nothing.”

He shook his head again, an evil smirk twisting his lips. “It proves it’s mine.”

Bill spoke up. “I think we’re done here. Ms. Greene isn’t signing.”

I shook my head as Jared let out a string of muffled curses.

Leaning forward, I scowled at him. “Stop harassing my friends. Leave me alone. I’m moving on with my life.”

“Oh?” He snarled. “Anything you want to share?”

I stood up. “No. I made the mistake of sharing with you once. I won’t do it again.”

Pivoting on my heel, I walked to the door, gasping when Jared’s hand closed around my bicep. “You’ll regret this, Megan,” he warned in my ear. “You’re fucking me up and I’m gonna return the favor.”

I shook his hand off. “You already did, Jared. Good luck with publishing my book.”

I walked out of the room quickly, so he couldn’t see how hard I was shaking. Bill could finish whatever needed to be done, but I had to get out of there before I lost it totally on Jared. I pushed the elevator button, praying it would come fast. Once I was safely down in the lobby, I sunk into one of the chairs scattered around and waited for Bill.

I didn’t feel better having faced Jared. If anything, I felt worse. He was so smug and arrogant. I cursed myself for ever seeing only his handsome face and not seeing the darkness that lurked behind his easy smile.

I longed for Zachary. Even in his anger he was honest. I wanted to hear his voice. I had only spoken to him briefly when I arrived, then again this morning. He didn’t like to talk on the phone, and kept our conversations short. He did, however, assure me earlier he missed me and was looking forward to me coming home. I had stared at the phone for a while after he had hung up.

Home.

It was amazing how fast home had become the place where Zachary was. His very presence made me feel safe, and the way he seemed to need me made me feel complete. Here, without him, I felt very empty.

Bill sat down beside me, shaking his head. “It’s not over, Megan.”

“What now?”

“He may come after you. He’s threatening slander or defamation of character, something. He’s desperate to discredit you.”

Weariness settled over my shoulders. “You think I should sign? Give him my book and let the world think I lied?”

“It’s not my field of expertise, but I’ll fight this for you,” he said, holding up his hand when I started to shake my head. “We’ve been friends a long time, Megan. I’m not asking for payment. I’d do this as your friend, but it could get ugly, and there’s a very good chance we’ll lose. It would certainly stop the book from coming out, though.”

“I can’t let you do that. Your firm—”

“Takes some pro bono cases. I could do this—for you.”

“And if I lose, he gets the book anyway.”

“It’s a risk. We have to see what his next move is.” He hesitated. “Can I ask you something?”

I nodded.

“Can you write another book, Megan?”

“Yes.”

“As hard as it would be to do, wouldn’t the money help you figure out the next step? Give you a break for a while to do that?” His voice became guarded. “Can you recover from this if he chooses to come after you?”

I shut my eyes as I thought about it. I could write another book. I could find a job and move ahead with my life. I could take the money, walk away, and not have to worry how it would affect Zachary. A dull throbbing started behind my eyes and I rubbed my temples, trying to ease the headache that was coming on. “I don’t know,” I admitted quietly.