I swallow the lump down in my throat and tremble as he stares me down. Without a better alternative, I follow Graham out of the room. He grips my hand in his. Part of me thinks it is only to stick it to HR. But, nonetheless, it feels good to have him at my side. I refuse to make eye contact with Martha, Gary, or Rich, embarrassed that I unknowingly wasted their valuable time. I am making a name for myself here but in the worst of ways. I am surely going to be pegged as being that girl, the one that causes unnecessary drama.
“Don’t worry about them.” Graham comforts me. “They are well paid and this isn’t your fault. Dominic should not have persuaded you to having a meeting in the first place. He gave you false hope that I would back down when he knew full well that I wouldn’t.”
I stop short of the end of the corridor, resting my hands on my hips. “What should he have done, then?”
He gives me a relaxed shrug. “He should have told you to give in to my wishes.”
“Of course,” I respond, my tone sarcastic, “you would suggest that.”
“Yep.”
I shake my head and bite back a smirk at his confidence and follow him on the elevator leading to the garage.
“Do you remember your parking spot number so I can have Collins deliver your car back home?” he asks.
“I got a taxi. My car is in the shop getting repairs.”
Graham gives me a nod and starts his polished silver Lamborghini from the key fob. I imagine that the car has never had to spend a night in the rain or cold. It is stunning.
My phone buzzes with an incoming photo. I quickly open the message app and wait for an image to enlarge. No! My vision blurs, and I feel my body floating like a feather to the ground as my fear takes over.
26
“Angie? Angie!”
I can hear my name in the distance but cannot find a way to the voice.
“Hell, Angie, wake up, you’re scaring me.”
Warm hands pat my cheeks and push my hair back from my face. The touch is so gentle and soft. It’s like being caressed by a cloud. I want to stay wrapped in this security blanket forever.
“Dammit, wake up!”
My body is shaken, and my eyes pop open at the force.
“What the hell happened?” Graham demands. “Are you ill? Hurt?”
My eyes search for my cell phone frantically and find it upside down on the concrete in the parking garage. I am wrapped in Graham’s arms on the cold cement.
“My phon—”
“Who cares about your—”
“No, look!” I demand, pointing at the device.
He follows my vision and grabs my phone. He turns it over and sees the picture that was sent to me.
“Who sent this?” he asks in disgust. “How did—”
“I don’t know. It’s from another unknown caller.”
I stare at the display on the screen and feel my stomach clench. There I am, ass bare and grinding all over Graham like a slut. There is no denying that it is me. We were on the bench at the charity gala. It is obvious from the angle that the photographer had a clear view to capture us in action. But why? And how?
“What do you mean by another unknown caller?”
“I have been getting some creepy text messages. I think from a client at the agency but I’m not sure. They are all from different unknown numbers.”
“I’ll find out who is at the bottom of this,” Graham promises.