Egotistically Yours by Hayley Faiman

Chapter Forty

BETHANIE

I attemptto catch my breath after my orgasm, but it’s hard for me. Gulping for air, I stare into Laurent’s still angry gaze. He doesn’t push away from me, but he doesn’t look relieved or anywhere near happy. He still looks pissed off.

“Laurent,” I whisper.

He shakes his head once. “Don’t talk,” he snaps. “I don’t want to hear your voice.”

Hurt.

The pain fills me instantly. I want nothing more than for him to take a step back and get out from inside of my body. I want him to go away. This we stupid. I shouldn’t have chased him. I should have just let him walk away.

But I can’t.

I love him—so much.

“I love you,” he grinds out.

Though he sounds angrier than lovey, but I decide not to point that out. He thrusts his hips forward and grinds his pelvis against my clit. I let out a mewl, loving the way that it feels against my sensitive clit.

Gripping the back of his neck with my fingers, I squeeze and look into his eyes. My lids are half lowered as I watch him, waiting to hear what he’s going to say next. When he doesn’t speak right away, I tell him that I love him too, because I do, so much.

“You are important to me,” he says. “I’m angry that you don’t think that you are. I’m pissed off that you aren’t going to protect yourself every way possible and I’m pissed that you went to my mother, knowing what she’s like, without telling me.”

Gripping the back of his neck, I sink my teeth into my lower lip as I watch him for a moment. Then I speak. I have to apologize, there is no way around it. Even though I don’t necessarily think that I’m wrong, I need to apologize to him, because at the end of the day, I hurt him.

“I never intended on hurting you,” I whisper. “I only wanted to help the situation.”

“You can help by letting me deal with it,” he snaps.

“But nothing has been fixed. They both showed up today.”

“They?”

Fuck.

“They?” he demands a bit louder.

He tries to pull away from me, but I squeeze my thighs together to keep him right where I want him. Shaking my head, I try to think of something else to say, but I know that I need to tell him the truth. He needs to know.

“Zara was watching me from the window yesterday after the man left.”

Laurent’s eyes widen and he lets out a grunt. “I knew she was too quiet. She was acting so fucking off. There had to have been more, and then there was the way she left, oddly okay with being let go. Oddly, being okay with the rejection. Oddly, just being okay with everything. I knew there was more and there is, I just don’t know what the fuck it could be.”

He dips his chin, touching his lips to mine, then slips from my body and I reluctantly let him take a step backward from me. He doesn’t say anything right away and I stand there in my completely torn and ruined clothes.

“What happens now?” I ask.

He shakes his head once, his gaze lifting to mine. “Now you quit your job.”

That sensation of panic fills me. Not that I’m scared to quit my job or that I’m angry with him for even demanding it. I’m not, not really. I just don’t want to do this.

“So I can be a hermit?” I shout.

His torso jerks backward and I realize this is a real fight that we’re in. This isn’t just an argument, this is a full-on fight. He takes a step toward me and I think that he’s going to reach out and wrap his hand around my throat again, but he doesn’t. Instead, he balls his hand in a fist at his side.

“If that’s what it takes to keep my family safe, then fuck yes,” he growls. “We’re moving in a couple weeks so it will be a nonissue anyway.”

“A few weeks?” I ask.

He lifts his hand and runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on the ends, no doubt in frustration. I’m frustrated too, except where he’s clothed and frustrated, I’m in torn clothes with my panties still shoved to the side. All of which adds to my frustration and annoyance.

“I haven’t even told my parents yet,” I hiss.

He shrugs a shoulder, his eyes finding mine as he holds my gaze. “My dad needs this office up and running. The building has been purchased, and I need to hire employees. Some have already been hired, but I need to work on my closest staff.”

Pressing my lips together, I take a step backward, colliding with the door. My breath leaves in a whoosh, but I don’t move. Shaking my head, I can’t believe that this is happening so fast. Laurent doesn’t turn and walk away from me this time, instead he closes the distance between us and lifts his hand, cupping my cheek.

“I understand that you’re scared. Let me take care of you, take care of this. Obviously, you’re not safe at work. Stay here until we get everything handled. I’m going to hire private security for you and Tucker.”

“Laurent, that seems excessive—” I begin. But he cuts me off with a look and I press my lips together.

“It’s not. You and Tucker being safe, that’s all that matters. Also, get dressed. I’m calling the police.”

“The police?” I whisper.

He nods his head, dipping his chin. He touches his lips to mine in a brush of a kiss. “They need to know. We should have gone to them immediately. Go on and get dressed, I’ll call them, then we’re getting our boy.”

Nodding my head, I agree, but I don’t know if I do fully agree with everything that he’s just announced. I’m a little afraid to argue with him any longer though. He’s not wrong when it comes to me needing to be away from that weirdo. I do need to get away or I’m going to find myself caught up in something that I may not survive.

No matter what I say, I don’t want him to do anything to me, to hurt me or Tucker. I just want him to disappear. Slipping out of the room, I hurry upstairs, clean up, and change into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. I grab a pair of sandals and then hurry downstairs, my tattered clothes in my hand.

Tossing my clothes into the trash, I try not to think about the fact that I don’t have a whole lot in my current size to wear and this was one of my favorite outfits. Instead, I just close the bin and move on with the day.

A few minutes later, before I can even ask Laurent a single question, the door buzzes.

“It’s Detective Chenault,” he announces.

“Detective Chenault?” I ask. “Do you know him?”

Laurent’s lips curve up into a grin, then he frowns before he speaks. “I do. He’s the detective who helped with Lucinda’s stuff. I trust him.”

Without another word he turns and walks toward the front door, opening it and revealing a man who is so handsome he rivals Landry. He’s probably around fifty-five or sixty, but he is downright beautiful.

LAURENT

Savage Chenault sitsacross from me, his pad of paper in hand, while I tell him everything that’s happened. I tell him not only about my mom, but about the man and Zara. I have no clue what the connection is with Zara there, but I leave nothing out.

“Why didn’t you come to me earlier?” Chenault asks.

I snort. “And tell you what? Some nameless weirdo has been sneaking up on Bethie and threatening her. I haven’t seen him, we don’t have him on security cameras, nobody knows who he is.”

“Yeah,” Chenault says, shaking his head. “There isn’t much I could have done with that.”

“So what do we do?” Bethie asks. “Laurent wants me to stay here out of an abundance of caution.”

Chenault nods his head a couple of times. “It’s not a bad idea. But then what?” he asks. “How long are you going to hide?”

Bethie clears her throat and I can feel her staring at me. I almost roll my eyes, but I don’t. Instead, I connect my gaze to Chenault’s. I watch him for a moment, then I wait for him to say something else, but he doesn’t.

Clearing my throat, I speak. “We’re moving to Denver. The lockdown would just be until we move.”

“Does your mother know?” he asks.

Shaking my head, I press my lips together. “She doesn’t, at least not that I know of.”

He nods his head, then writes something down. “Okay, let me do some digging. I’m going to pull up your mother’s visitation and phone log.”

“I went to visit her today,” Bethie announces. Chenault’s eyes widen and he nods his head but doesn’t respond. “I just wanted to ask her to please leave us alone. I showed her a picture of the baby. I just was trying to fix things,” she whispers.

My heart slams against my chest. The way that Bethie is speaking, the words that she says, it makes my heart ache. She is so good, but my mother is not—I’m not.

Fuck.

If it wasn’t for me, for my mother, for my own goddamn bloodline, she would not be being hunted by this weirdo. She would not be in fear.

This is all my goddamn fault.

Chenault leaves promising to get as much information as he can and I decide that it isn’t good enough. His hands are tied by the law on what he can and cannot do, but I know someone else who doesn’t have quite the red tape that he does.

So, I put in a call to my father’s PI, Hansen. I should have done this the first time that I found out about this man approaching Bethie. I stupidly thought that it would go away, that he would go away. I was living in denial, thinking that my mother would call off her hound.

That denial has brought that shit right to my feet, and I realize that she’s not calling off shit, in fact, she’s getting worse. I need to protect my family before something serious happens.

Gathering Bethie, we leave the apartment and head to the car. All I can think about is getting to my son and calling Hansen. I can’t hold a conversation at all, so I don’t even try. Once we’re in LoneSTAR Investment’s parking garage, I breathe a sigh of relief knowing that I’m closer to Tucker.

“Go on and get him. I’ll wait in the lobby, I have a phone call to make,” I announce as we walk into the building.

Bethie doesn’t ask me who I’m calling, but I do see the expression of confusion that crosses her features. Searching through my phone, I find his number and I press call.

“Hansen,” he grumbles, his voice rough and raspy.

“Laurent Astor,” I announce. “Got a problem, need some help.”

“Talk to me.”