The Revenge Games Duet

“We’re going.”

“I’m busy.” He motions with his eyes to the girl next to him.

“He’s married,” I shout at her. “Did you know that? Or you don’t care ‘cause you just want to be known as a whore?”

The girl stands up on her platform heels, her skimpy dress pulled up past her knees. She has on way too much mascara, so much so you can barely see her eyes in between her thick lashes. “Who you calling a whore?”

“Uh... you?” I bark with a smile, crossing my arms firmly over my chest.

I can see a look of shock filter out across Karl’s face.

He wants drama, he’s damn well got drama. Emerson Chase has her gloves on ready to fight anyone who crosses her path.

The whore launches herself right at me. Ash attempts to hold her back, while I shout profanities that would make any sailor proud. This is all his fault—he can’t keep his dick in check like every other man. I’m so sick of it, and perhaps the alcohol isn’t helping but it’s heightening my emotions to the point where I have no control anymore.

My body jerks back, a hand restraining me, removing me from the space where that ditsy whore tried to pull my hair. She fights like a fucking girl.

“C’mon, Emmy. Just leave them alone,” Logan grits.

I pull away from him. “Because you condone that?”

Whore launches for me again, yelling, “You’re nothing but a reality-TV slut.”

She shouldn’t have said that!

Trying hard to wriggle my way out of Logan’s grasp is near impossible with the grip he has on my arms. He’s stronger than I anticipated.

“Ash. Control her,” Logan warns him. “I’m taking Emmy home.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“Well, I’m taking you anywhere but here.”

Logan drags me away with Karl struggling to follow. We’re almost to the front door when Wes stops me, blocking the entrance.

Wes’ eyes are wild with jealousy, his veins prominent and scattered all over his red face. “You’re not taking her anywhere.”

“Get out of the way.” Logan raises his voice, keeping his grip tight.

“I said…” Wesley almost spits, “… you’re not taking her anywhere.”

“You know what? Fuck you! You don’t own me, Wesley Rich,” I yell into his face. “Go back to your sofa full of sluts.” The adrenaline running through my veins gives me the strength to pull away from Logan and push past Wesley until the fresh air graces my boiling hot skin. Seeking some sort of escape, I spot our limo and slide in demanding the driver take me home.

Trying to still my heart to no avail, I bury my head into my legs. I hear the door open but ignore it. At this moment I just don’t understand life, or why all the men in my life have this need to act the way they do.

I don’t look up immediately but smell him instantly. I hate that he smells so good.

“You’re not going home.”

“I can handle my own decisions,” I argue back, defeated, and on the verge of tears.

“Why are you angry at me?”

“Because you’re all the same. Ash is no fucking different and you’re his best friend.”

“We’re not the same, Emerson. And I will not allow you to go home.”

“It’s not like he’s going to get his way.”