Chapter Four

Scarlett

"I hope you're not still mad that I didn't tell you my brother is Jett Heathrow," Jen said over the phone two days later.

"Of course not," I said while clicking away on my laptop.

"It's just that after years of seeing girls and guys too befriend me just so they could get to him, hiding it became instinctive," she chuckled dryly, "And he's been going by my mum's last name ever since, so it was easy to not connect the dots."

And also the fact that Jett Heathrow was six feet five with solid muscle, while she was five feet and a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet.

The truth is that I didn't care that her brother was a superstar football player who made my entire year salary in like two weeks. She didn't owe me her family history or anything.

My major concern was that I now knew what her brother sounded like when he came, and that was...a problem. I'd done my best to avoid Jett throughout the weekend at her parents' house and had managed to get away with it and run back to the city as soon as possible.

There was just itty bitty problem, and that was that I was currently rooming with Jen and she was hell-bent on trying to find the mysterious guy from the motel.

"I'm just so glad that you're so different," she sighed happily, "You didn't start fawning over Jett. You were just your regular standoffish self. I'm so glad I met you Scar."

I winced. I was definitely taking the truth to my grave, or I could risk ruining my friendship with her.

"I'm glad I met you too Jen." I said earnestly.

"Okay, I've got to run. Catch ya later." And then she hung up.

I groaned, slapping my palm against my forehead, mind racing. It was just a one time thing. I definitely had no plans of meeting up with Jett again, and I was sure he thought the same. He was a famous athlete and could have any woman he wanted.

The intercom buzzed, "ma'am, you have an appointment with your new client in fifteen minutes."

"Okay. Thank you, Eve."

I had to get myself together and get through this meeting. I currently needed a lot of money to get my own place after the debacle with Paul had rendered me hopelessly. Even though Jen said it was cool to room with her, I just needed my own space.

I took a deep breath, and then the door burst open, a familiar figure stomping in.

"What the hell, Scarlett? Why aren't you picking my calls?" My ex snarled.

My jaw clenched in fury, "What are you doing here, Paul? I have a meeting in less than fifteen minutes. Get the hell out."

My ex was good looking. I'd always thought he was the most attractive person ever, but compared to Jett, I suddenly found him lacking.

"Not until we talk," he insisted, "You can't just throw six years of relationship down the drain like that. Come on, babe. You're being illogical."

My jaw dropped open, "I'm being illogical? You cheated on me!" I hissed, "in fact you've been cheating on me for years. You have no right to say I'm being illogical."

He shrugged, "You can't blame me babe. It's not like you were offering. I'm a man and i have appetites. But trust me, none of that has anything to do with what I feel for you."

"You're such a pig."

"You don't need to be rude, okay?" He snapped, "I'm here because I love you, I've always loved you and I always will and I want you back."

Over his shoulder, I could see a startled Eve hurriedly dialing for security. "Paul, you need to leave right now. I'm not having this discussion with you. You have no right to barge into my place of work like this."

He glanced around and let out a derisive snort, "Who are you fooling? This isn't even a real job. You haven't gotten any important client in months. Face it, Scarlett, you need me."

"No, i don't." I rolled my eyes.

"Yes, you do." He insisted, looking furious, "You think you can make it as a PR agent? You're just a hard ass bitch who doesn't know when to quit. You're going to end up spreading your legs for every celebrity out there with the hope of getting them to your firm, and then you'll come running back to me. By then, it'll be too late."

If he thought his words would get to me, he was dead wrong. Maybe the me of a few days ago would have succumbed to the effect of his words, but the me that knew he was just a pathetic cheat who couldn't even give me a single orgasm in our six years together just laughed at him.

"At least I'll be getting orgasms while trying to bag a client, which is more than I can say you gave me," I smirked.

It was the wrong thing to say, because fury sparked in Paul's brown eyes, and he flew toward me, gripping my arm painfully tight, "What did you say to me you frigid bitch? You think you can talk to me like that?"

"As a matter of fact, I can do whatever I want."

"You're mine."

"No, I'm not," I spat, "I don't belong to you. I stopped being yours the moment you touched another woman."

"What did you expect? Being with you is like lying with a bag of ice."

I shrugged, keeping my expression as relaxed as possible, "You can't blame me Paul. You know the thing about ice is that it melts when it gets heated up."

In a heartbeat, he raised his hand and began to bring it down toward my face. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the pain, but it never came. My eyes flew open just in time to see Paul flying across the room, and a large, hulking, blue eyed man staring down at my ex with fury.