I wrench my arm free from his grip and stare daggers at him as my anger asserts itself. “Don’t touch me, Sawyer,” I spit. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
He takes a step back and shows me his palms. “Okay, okay.”
“How could you do this to me, Sawyer?”
“Berlin, this is not what it looks like,” he tries to explain. “This is not what you think. I promise you.”
“I don’t want to hear your promises,” I scream at him. “I’m sick of your bullshit!”
“Berlin, if you’d just calm down for a minute and –”
“Calm down?” I cut him off. “Did you really just tell me to calm down?”
His eyes narrow, and I see his jaw clench. He’s getting upset with me – like he has the moral high ground here or something. His arrogance is unbelievable.
“Yes, I did just tell you to calm the fuck down,” he growls. “You stormed in here in full attack mode, looking for a fight.”
The rage and the pain that have a tight hold on me are barely allowing me to breathe. My head is spinning. I feel like I’m on the verge of either passing out or having the most epic meltdown ever.
“Berlin, listen to me –”
I hear the sharp crack of flesh meeting flesh and feel the sting in my hand before I even realize what I’d done. I look down at my hand, red from delivering the blow like it’s an alien that acted on its own. Raising my eyes, I see the handprint coloring Sawyer’s cheek and a look of outright shock on his face. He can’t believe I slapped him any more than I can.
There is a collective gasp from the people around us, and then everything falls silent. It’s like all of the oxygen has been sucked out, and we’re all just standing in a vacuum. But then a sound cuts through the silence – a steady click-click-click – and it takes me a moment to realize what it is. With a groan, I turn and see the gaggle of paparazzi crowding around us like vultures on top of a carcass, ripping and tearing their pound of flesh, gleeful smiles on all their faces.
My eyes burning with tears, my face burning with embarrassment, I turn and run, leaving them all behind me, my tears mixing with the rain.
Chapter Thirty-Nine Sawyer
I watch Berlin run off, see her melting into the crowd, but make no further move to stop her. If I try to force her to talk right now, it’s going to go very badly – for both of us. I’m so pissed off right now; I can’t be trusted to speak to her. And of course, she’s so angry; she shouldn’t talk to me either. The difference, though, is that her anger is based on her misunderstanding. On her own ignorance of the situation.
It’s been a constant theme through our relationship – Berlin flying off the handle and not giving me a chance to actually explain what’s happening. She’s always in attack mode, always spoiling for a fight, and although I love her, I don’t know that I can continue living that way. Not if she’s always going to predisposed to believing the worst about me.
As I stand there seething, I become aware of the people crowded around on the sidewalk gawking at me. And as I come back to myself, the next thing I’m aware of is the clicking and whirring of the cameras. I turn slowly and see the paparazzi huddled on the sidewalk, snapping shots and giggling excitedly to one another. I’m overcome with a dark anger and the urge to smash something, so I step forward, intending to do just that, when I feel a hand on my shoulder, gently urging me to stop.
“You really don’t want to do that,” she says.
I turn and find myself staring into Haley’s smiling face. She shakes her head, her eyes flashing me a warning.
“Too many witnesses around,” she whispers.
Despite the anger coursing through my veins, a small laugh escapes me. I take a deep breath and try to force myself to calm down. Being pissed off isn’t going to do anything for me – and beating the shit out of a paparazzi isn’t going to help either. But it might feel really, really good.
Haley holds out her oversized umbrella, so it’s covering the both of us, and we walk down the sidewalk, away from the crowds and the cameras. As we walk, I keep breathing, doing everything I can to diminish the anger inside of me – a feat it takes several blocks to accomplish.
We stop at a coffee cart, and I grab us a couple of cups, handing one over to her one. We take a minute to fix our drinks and then continue to walk as the rain lightens up and fades to a soft, sporadic drizzle.
“Well, that was fun,” Haley chirps.
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” I reply. “I didn’t –”
“No need to apologize,” she cuts me off. “I know a bit about Berlin Roth.”
I turn to her. “You do?”
She nods. “She has a great reputation. At least, among my kind. She’s a terrific lawyer, committed to her causes,” Haley affirms. “She fights for the people who don’t have a voice.”
“She’s also a notorious hothead.”
“I’ve heard that too,” she laughs. “But still, I have to respect her for standing up for her convictions and for not taking any shit from people. Least of all from you.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
She gives me a cheeky smile and a laugh. “I have to admit to admiring her for getting you to back down on the Atwell project.”
“I didn’t back down,” I respond. “I worked with her to come to a resolution that satisfied us both. There’s a difference.”
“I heard you’re eating more than a few million on your mutually satisfying resolution,” she scoffs. “Where I come from, that’s called an ass-kicking.”
The grin pulls my lips upward, and I shake my head as
