Billionaire Daddy and Nanny 2(17)

“Listen, Amelia,” he said, his voice stern, but desperate, “you wouldn't meet with me when all I wanted to do was talk. What choice did you leave me? I needed to talk to you and you need to listen to me.”

“I don't need to do anything, Charlie,” I spat. “I don't owe you shit. You're the one who was fucking somebody else. Not me. So, get your goddamn hand off of me right this minute!”

My voice was rising and people were starting to stare. Good. Because in that moment, I didn't trust that Charlie wouldn't do something stupid. The look in his eyes scared me, it was one I'd only seen from him a handful of times – and each time, it made me fear he could turn that rage on me. He never had, not until today. But as he stared down at me, I could see the hatred in his eyes.

This wasn't about him still loving me. He never had really loved me because Charlie couldn't love anyone but himself. As much as it terrified me to see that look in his eye, it was what finally made me let go – for good. And I knew there was no going back, never. Because if I did, I'd be nothing but a prized possession. I'd never be a treasured girlfriend or a wife or someone he loved. I'd be his – thing. His conquest. His trophy. And he was pissed because I was no longer his and would never be any of those things. That would be it.

I struggled to pull my arm away, but he gripped it tighter, causing me to yell out in pain. “You're hurting me!” I said.

I watched as people tried not to stare, and I begged and pleaded for someone to step in and help me. But no one did. Because it's human nature to look the other way, and that's what the passers-by were doing. I was pretty certain that Charlie could pull out a knife and start stabbing me on the sidewalk right then and there and a whole lot of people would find more interesting things to look at and would pay us no attention at all.

“Let's just go back to my place and talk,” Charlie said, pulling me toward his car that was parked on the street nearby.

That's when I felt hope surge in my chest when somebody behind me spoke. Somebody was finally going to help me.

“She's not going anywhere with you.”

A familiar voice. A strong voice. As I looked over my shoulder, I saw Drew and my heart flared with gratitude.

“Who the fuck is you?” Charlie asked, casting his baleful glare at Drew.

I watched as Charlie looked the other man up and down, and I watched as the realization hit me that there was no way he could win in a fight against Drew. After all, Charlie was a scrawny excuse for a man compared to the Navy SEAL who was standing there behind us.

“Doesn't matter who I am, asshole,” Drew snapped. “She obviously doesn't want to go anywhere with you and you're hurting her. I'm here to tell you to let her go.”

“Or what?” Charlie asked, a cocky, but stupid grin on his face. “You're going to beat the shit out of me here on a public street?”

Drew shrugged, “If I have to, yeah. Why wouldn't I? And what do I have to lose?”

“Don't, Drew –” I started to say.

“Oh, so she knows you, huh?” Charlie yanked me closer to him and away from Drew, which seemed to be the last straw.

Drew stepped toward Charlie and before I could see what happened, he had pulled back his fist and launched it. Drew's fist connected with Charlie's jaw with a slap of flesh and a sickening crunching sound. Charlie let me go as he grabbed at his face, howling in pain as I fell to the ground at Drew's feet.

Drew reached down with one hand and helped me up, holding me a little too close for comfort – given that he was my patient and all that – but I let it be. This wasn't business as usual and in that moment, I felt safe there with his arm wrapped around my shoulder.

“Now I'd encourage you to get the fuck out of here,” Drew said. “Because she obviously doesn't want to see you.”

The rest of it was a blur, as my eyes filled with tears, relieved that Charlie hadn't gotten me into his car and thankful that Drew had showed up when he did.

After watching Charlie leave, speeding away in his car, Drew turned to me, lifting my chin up to make me look him in the eyes. It was so hard looking at his face because the thoughts I had about him were definitely not clean. And they most definitely were not the types of thoughts I should have been having about a client.

“I tried calling your office on my way over,” he said. “But I guess you'd already stepped out.”

I nodded, unable to speak, mainly because I was afraid of what I might say. I couldn't be trusted, not in that moment, not being so close to him. Not with his hands touching me. The safer course of action was to play the rattled woman and say nothing. Not until my heart had healed over sufficiently.