The thought of Kline viewing sexual images of Eva sent rage surging through me. His memories were bad enough. A recording was unacceptable.
My hand fisted around the flash drive. “It’s going to come out that the footage exists; I can’t stop it. You contacted too many reporters with your offer to sell it. What I can do is destroy you. Personally, that would be my preference. I want to watch you burn, you piece of shit.”
Sam shifted in his seat.
I leaned forward. “You got more than Eva and Kline with your cameras. There are dozens of other victims who didn’t sign releases. I own this bar. Hell, I own the band. It didn’t take much effort to find the regulars and Six-Ninths followers who were here when you were illegally filming in the bathrooms.”
The last bit of avarice in his gaze dimmed, then blinked out completely.
“If you were smarter,” I went on, “you would’ve leveraged for long-term gain instead of an immediate payout. Instead, you’re going to sign the contract I’m about to put in front of you and walk away with a check for a quarter million.”
He straightened. “Fuck that! You said one million. That was the deal.”
“Which you didn’t accept.” I stood. “It’s no longer on the table. And if you take any longer to decide, the new offer won’t be, either. I’ll just run you into the ground and straight into a jail cell. It’s enough that I can tell Eva I tried.”
As I walked away, I shoved the flash drive into my pocket, where it promptly burned a hole I couldn’t ignore. My gaze met Arash’s as I passed where he sat at the bar waiting for his cue to step in.
He hopped off his bar stool. “Always a pleasure watching you scare the hell out of someone,” he said, before heading toward the seat I’d just vacated, the necessary contract and check in hand.
I stepped outside the dim bar into the bright San Diego sunshine. Eva didn’t want me to view the footage; she’d made me promise I wouldn’t.
But she was feeling something for Kline. He remained a very real threat. Seeing them together, intimately, might give me the information I needed to fight him off.
Had she been as sexually raw with him as she was with me? Had she been as desperate and greedy for him? Could he make her come like I could?
I squeezed my eyes shut against the images in my head, but they wouldn’t go away.
Remembering my promise, I crossed the parking lot to my rental car.
Is it silly that I’m nearly as excited to be your “friend” as I am to be your wife?
I laughed inwardly as I read Eva’s text and replied. I’m as excited to be your lover as I am to be your husband.
OMG … fiend.
That had me laughing aloud.
“What was that sound?” Arash looked at me over the edge of his tablet, having made himself at home on the couch in my hotel suite. “Was that a laugh, Cross? Were you seriously just laughing? Or were you having a stroke?”
I flipped him off.
“Seriously?” he shot back. “The finger?”
“Eva says it’s a classic.”
“Eva’s hot enough to get away with it. You’re not.”
I opened a new window on my laptop and logged into my social media profile, linking it to Eva’s with the Engaged to designation now that we were “friends.” As I waited for her to accept the relationship link, I clicked on her profile and smiled again at the cover image she’d selected. She was exposing herself to the world for the first time, and she was doing so as the woman who was mine.
I texted her back when she approved our joined status. Now you’re both.
? I’m keeping my half of our deal.
My gaze moved from the message window to the photo of us on her profile. I brushed over her face with my fingertips, resisting the urge to go to her. It was too soon. She needed what space I could bear to give her.
So am I, angel mine.