Chapter 20
Scarlett
Idon’t even remember leaving the lecture hall.
One moment, I’m staring at Dr. O’Rourke dreamily, sans tongue hanging out like Vienna, and next, I’m spiraling from a cyber-attack on my phone.
Now I’m outside in the hallway with my back pressed to a cold marble column, clutching my phone like it’s a live grenade.
When I open it back up, I assess the damage in numbers.
Twenty-three missed calls. Forty-one texts.
All from Pierce.
There are even group chat messages from his friends that I was somehow added to.
Where are you, Scarlett?
Pierce is worried sick.
Pierce wants to talk to you.
Why did you leave him?
Don’t ignore us.
Answer the phone.
Go home!
We know where to find you.
Besides the sheer volume of them and the way they grow more aggressive, the texts make it sound as if Pierce is a victim. And not the jerk who cheated on me and then backhanded me.
My stomach churns. He doesn’t get to be worried. Not after what he did. Not after a proposal on one knee with the perfect ring, followed by a betrayal when I didn’t say yes. Didn’t do as he asked.
I duck into the nearest bathroom before I fall apart completely.
The lights hurt my eyes, and the mirror confesses how wrung out I look.
I’ve handled people bleeding out in the ED better than this.
By my trembling jaw, bloodshot eyes, and beet-red cheeks, I worry Pierce was right. Maybe I can’t handle school.
The thought alone makes me grit my teeth.
Fuck, if I’ll let that asshole ex of mine win. I can and will do this.
I call Regan to vomit-rant and get everything under control.
I push away that I use her as a crutch, that I’m weak for needing my friend instead of dealing with the emotional turmoil on my own.
Pierce expects me to think that way. He would love it if I isolated myself from my best friend or even my dad because they’re wise to Pierce and don’t sugarcoat his emotional abuse.
Regan picks up on the first ring. “Hey, we’re waiting for dispatch instructions for a call. Everything okay in the new apartment?”
A tiny laugh escapes me, breathless and broken. “I’m at school. And I’m…I’m not okay.”
“What happened?” Her voice sharpens, protective. Ready to send Finn’s six cop brothers to my rescue if I signal the need.
“I got bombarded with calls and texts while I was in class. All from Pierce and his shitty friends. They dog-piled me with messages. It was like he told them to all text and call at the same time. They’re ordering me to talk to him.
” I swipe angrily at the falling tears tracking down my heated cheeks.
“Pierce Langston the Third is an abusive narcissist disguised as a doctor with accomplices all over the city, apparently. Bring your phone to a store and ask for the cyber-stalking desk. They will reset your permissions by going through the contact list. That layer of protection will only allow certain numbers through. It will block anyone not in the list,” Regan recites something I’ve heard her tell abused women we take to the hospital.
“Okay,” I say, though with my schedule, I’m doubtful I’ll find time for that task. Or the funds for it. I could just turn off the damn thing.
“That didn’t sound very convincing. I guess he saw your text the other night as an opening and attacked.
” She sighs, “God, I’m sorry. It’s my fault.
I suggested you reach out. I can pay him a visit, smack him around, and see if he attacks me.
Ghost a call to his place with the cops, let them see him go off on me. ”
“No! I don’t want him coming after you. I don’t want to drag you into this.”
“I want to drag him behind my ambulance.” She pauses and adds, “Does your apartment have a deadbolt?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. And what is your plan if Pierce shows up at school?”
“I don’t have a plan.” I start to spiral again. “I have pepper spray.”
“Oh, please wear your body cam so we can get that on film.”
I think about Dr. O’Rourke and what he would do if he caught Pierce messing with me. He’s mafia! But he’s also a doctor and understands the Langston influence and power. Then there’s the way he’s been so protective of me, so I know I could count on him to look out for me.
Leaving the bathroom, I look down the hall, and I’m only slightly shocked to see my professor watching me. Damn, why does he have to be so handsome? Even that simmering, controlled danger turns me on.
Eyes burning green dragon fire, he strides toward me with a predatory gaze and hero confidence.
“I have to go,” I say to Regan. “My professor is looking for me.”
“Professor Hottie? Go. Call me back with a report.” Regan hangs up.
“Scarlett.” Dr. O’Rourke’s voice is low. “Come to my office. Right now.”
I swallow, thinking this is becoming a habit. “Dr. O’Rourke, I—”
“Now.” He turns and expects me to follow.
So I do.
But I’m fired up. And fed up with men telling me what to do and trying to take my power. Since the good professor demands I go to his office, he’s going to feel the heat of my anger.
He’ll know before I leave that I’m not so easily brought to heel.