Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 135799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
I snatch it out of his hand. “What you do is protect criminals.” I stand.
He rolls his eyes.
“And don’t roll your fucking eyes at me,” I snap.
“Do you want to go back to the lockup? Is that it?” He gestures to the door. “Just go, before you overstep the line for the tenth time today.”
I’m led downstairs and into the reception area, where I see Christopher and our lawyer sitting and waiting. I glare at them and turn to the police officer. “I want my possessions returned.”
“Your phone, belt, and keys are in the tray over on the counter.”
I take them and put them in my pockets. “Let’s go.”
“Thank you, officer,” Christopher says.
“Don’t fucking thank him,” I snap. “It’s a joke that I was even arrested.” I storm out of the front door of the police station.
“Will you stop being such a fucking prick?” Christopher calls from behind me. “It’s not his fault you had a brain snap.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I whisper angrily as I march down the steps. I turn toward them. “Thank you both for coming. Go home, now.”
“You go home too, Mr. Miles,” Edward, our solicitor, says. “You are in no state to be in public.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are not fine. Go straight home before you make your situation worse.”
“It can’t get any fucking worse,” I snap.
“Believe me, it can. Christopher, drive him home and stay with him tonight.”
“I will, don’t worry.”
“Fuck off the both of you.” I turn away in disgust. “Actually, drive me back to my car.”
“I had Andrew pick your car up earlier,” Christopher says. “I’m driving you home.”
I stare at him. “Fine.” I shake Edward’s hand. “Thank you.”
“I’ll be in touch. Stay home, Elliot. I can’t stress to you how important it is that you don’t get into any more trouble.”
“I won’t let him out of my sight,” Christopher says.
I exhale heavily and we walk over to his car. I slam the door shut. “Take me to Kate’s.”
“I am not taking you to Kate’s.”
“Fine.” I open the car door to get back out. “I’ll fucking walk.” I march down the street in the direction of her house.
“She doesn’t want to see you,” he calls.
I carry on walking and he drives the car up alongside me and winds down the window. “Stop being an idiot.”
I keep walking.
“Elliot, you are all over the news right now. They’ll be camped out the front of her house.”
I stop on the spot and my shoulders slump. “I’ve fucked it.”
“I know.” He sighs. “But you can’t be acting like a lunatic. Go home and call her. I’ll go pick her up myself, I promise. You cannot just turn up there unannounced.”
I stare at him.
“What if she won’t let you in?” he asks.
“She will.”
“Will she?” he says. “Because I saw the footage of her on the news taking a swing at you and she didn’t look like she was too happy to see you.”
My heart drops. “You saw that?”
“Everyone’s seen it, it was filmed from a phone.” His eyes hold mine. “Just get in the fucking car, man.” He sighs sadly.
I look up the street.
Fuck.
I get in the car and slam the door and we drive in silence.
Eventually he turns on to the motorway and we head to Enchanted.
I stare out of the window with my phone in my hand. What do I do?
I close my eyes in regret.
I fucked up . . . bad.
“She’s not going to forgive me,” I say as I get a vision of Kate from today, the look in her eyes. “I know her, she’s too stubborn . . . if you saw how hurt and angry she was.”
“Do you blame her?” Christopher says as his eyes flick over to me.
I clench my jaw as anger surges.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Christopher snaps. “You had it. For the first time, you actually had it in your hand. A woman who made you happy . . . and you go off on some stupid fucking tangent chasing an artist.”
“It’s not stupid to me,” I cry. “I’d only been with Kate for a month.” I kick the dashboard.
“Don’t kick my car or I’m kicking you out, and you can fucking walk, prick,” Christopher yells.
“I had been searching for this artist for years. I’ve been obsessed with her, I thought there was something there.”
“Did you sleep with her?” His eyes move between me and the road.
I stay silent.
“Did you fuck this artist or not?” he yells.
“No!” I scream. “As soon as I got there I knew I had done the wrong thing.”
“So why then . . . did you stay?”
“I stayed one night.”
“So . . . you did sleep with her?”
“No.” I shake my head, regret swimming through my body. “She was full on into me and . . . I faked a headache and went back to my hotel room. I didn’t even get through the first dinner date.”