“You will leave him. I’m going to hit him fast and hard, Amy, and I need him as demoralized as possible. You don’t have a choice in this, you should know by now. Or haven’t you learned anything?”
“Yeah, I’ve learned something,” I whisper, closing the distance between us with one sure step and then hitting her across the face with the back of my hand. “I’ve learned you’re a bitch. And now I want you to get the fuck out of my apartment.”
Moving slowly, she sets her glass on the desk and looks to me, her smile turning into a grin of pure savagery.
“I’ll go, Amy. But if I were you, I’d be as far away from Parker as possible. Because, rest assured, I’m going to crush him… And if you’re standing by his side, I’ll happily crush you as well.”
“Fuck off,” I growl, and then I stare at her as she grabs her purse and walks out of my apartment, leaving the door open behind her.
This is it. Whatever she has in store for Parker, it’s clear what’s going to happen next.
We’re officially going to war.
Parker
I'm sitting behind my large, mahogany desk. My top staff officials are standing behind me, poised and smiling. This is a big moment. I have a stack of documents splayed out over the desk, and a heavy pen resting between my fingers.
I'm signing my way through documents as reporters snap pictures.
I'm hoping this action sets my campaign back on track. It's recently gone off the rails since Kate Meelios showed up unexpectedly at Amy's apartment.
This is city legislation I'm signing today that will make it illegal for sex offenders to work in our public school system, and I'm proud of this. It's about time it's happening.
"This legislation is long overdue," I say proudly, looking up from the documents. "I'm fulfilling a campaign promise that I've made to the citizens of New York City. This is a historic moment for all of us."
I smile and get up from my desk, preparing to leave now that the documents have been signed, and waving to the press, when one reporter speaks up, stopping me.
"Mr. Trask," he says, one arm outstretched to slow my exit and capture my attention, "with your stepdaughter facing charges of sex trafficking as her business is being closed down, will her being labeled as a sex offender cause a strain on your family?"
What the fuck?
I can hardly believe the words coming from his mouth. My head is fucking spinning.
"What did you just say to me?" I ask, turning to address him.
I'm being civil. Hiding frustration and anger that's bubbling to the surface. But honestly, I could wring his neck.
Is this a blatant question to sabotage me in front of the press? Or is there a nugget of truth to this? Is Amy hiding something from me?
Your guess is as good as mine.
The reporter looks at me with a confused look on his face. "You do know about this, don't you?" he says.
"Excuse me, but I don't understand the question," I say. I can feel my pulse increasing, and the room is beginning to feel twenty degrees hotter. What's going on? I think to myself. Is Kate behind this?
I'm having a full-body reaction to this reporter's accusations, but before he has a chance to speak again, Megan places her hand on my elbow.
"Let's go Parker," she whispers, gently guiding me out of the room so that no other exchange of words can transpire. I can tell she's trying to make a strategic exit.
I raise my shoulders and shake my head. "I really don't know what the fuck is going on Megan," I say to her, leaning in and whispering. And that's the truth.
"I know, but right now, we need to get out of here," she replies, her face serious and stoic.
She continues to lead me out of the building, as a few reporters try to follow behind us. I can hear the continued snap of cameras and raised voices, all vying for my attention and for more information. They're clamoring for my thoughts—anything to grab onto and throw into tomorrow's headlines, I'm fucking sure of it.
"Here we go," she says, pointing to our black limo waiting for us at the curb. The drivers is holding open a rear door of the car and we both slide into the cool leather seats, reporters nipping at our heels. The door slams shut behind us, and we are now completely shielded from the outside world.
The windows are deeply tinted, and while we can see out, we are safe from the prying eyes of all of the photographers. Even their shouts are muffled, and almost a distant memory at this point.
I turn to Megan. "What the fuck was that all about?"
She doesn't say anything, and just shakes her head, her curls bouncing.
I continue. "I'm serious, Megan. I need to know what in the hell is going on," I say again. "That reporter made one hell of a statement back there."