My Unexpected Vow: California Billionaires Book 2 Harlow James (scary books to read txt) 📖

a moment to register what just happened, but as I snap back to reality, I run over and peel Hayes off of Brett. “Hayes!”

Security runs over, holding Hayes away from Brett as a guard helps him to his feet.

“That man attacked me!” Brett shouts as blood pours from his nose.

“Fucker! You asked for it! How dare you speak to my wife that way!” Hayes pushes against the security guard, rage apparent all over his body as his neck strains and veins pop in his arms.

“Ma’am, can you tell us what happened?”

“Yes, but… can we go somewhere more private?” I glance around and see a crowd has formed of multiple people holding up camera phones. Fucking great, this will be on TMZ tomorrow.

Security leads all three of us to a private office a few hundred feet down the stadium where they take statements from me, Hayes, and Brett separately. By the time we’re done, the game is more than halfway over.

I’m still shaking as I take in everything that happened, but it only gets worse as we move to leave and pass by Brett still sitting in his chair.

Hayes steps up to him, but I hold him back by the arm, afraid that he’s about to hit him once more. “Don’t you dare fucking think about pressing charges against me, asshole.” Brett glares up at him with a smirk on his face. “I will wipe that fucking smirk off your face so fast, you won’t know which way is up.” He takes a deep breath and then lowers his voice, but I can still hear him. “You’re going to pretend like Waverly doesn’t fucking exist anymore, or she and I will slap you with sexual harassment charges and a restraining order. Good luck making anything of your pathetic excuse for a life with shit like that on your record. You won’t contact her again, speak her name, or so much as glance in her direction, do you understand me?”

His smirk from before fades, he swallows thickly, flicks his eyes to me for a brief moment, and then back to Hayes before he nods. “Got it.”

“I’m fucking serious, fucker. I will bury you. I have enough money to make sure no one finds you or cares to find you.”

“Hayes…” I reach out for him, breaking him from the intensity in his stare, forcing him to move for the door. “Come on. Let’s just go.”

He nods and then leads us out of the stadium with a security guard following close by. Fortunately, because he has season tickets and his family donates a shit ton of money to the organization, Hayes hasn’t been banned from the games for good. But we were asked to leave for the remainder of this one.

We settle into his car as Hayes drives us home, ruminating in complete silence.

My chest rises and falls with each deep breath that I take as I try to process how quickly the evening turned. I haven’t seen Brett in months, and the person I saw tonight was not the man I dated. He looked cold, lost, strung out on booze or drugs, clearly unhappy with the direction his life is headed. But that’s not my fault, and in all honesty, I’m glad things ended when they did—because Brett never looked at me like Hayes does.

Hayes. The man punched my ex-boyfriend tonight in my defense. He called me his wife in front of hundreds of people. And he threatened Brett’s life if he ever contacted me again. I’ve never seen that version of him before—confrontational, animalistic, seething, and angry. But he was like that for me. He got that way because of me. Part of me is in awe of what he did, and then the other part needs to know why?

And I think tonight is the perfect time to dive into the conversation we’ve both been avoiding.

* * *

When we arrive back at home, I follow Hayes into the kitchen as he reaches for an icepack from the freezer, placing it on his hand as he winces.

“Are you okay?” I finally speak, nervous but hopeful that I can get answers to the bombardment of questions going through my mind about everything concerning Hayes and me.

“I’ll be fine. Just stings right now.” He lifts the pack to assess his hand and then places it back down.

“What were you thinking punching him like that?” I know it’s probably not the first question I should ask, but it’s the most prevalent in my mind.

His head pops up and his eyes darken with anger again. “I was thinking he fucking disrespected you and I wasn’t going to stand for it.”

“I was handling it.”

He huffs and then leans his hip on the kitchen counter. “So, let me get this straight… you’re mad at me because I protected you?”

I plant my hands firmly on my hips, ready for a fight. “I didn’t ask you to punch him in the face!”

“Well, he deserved it. No man should ever speak to a woman that way!”

“I can defend myself. I don’t need you running to my rescue,” I say, more out of self-preservation than anger.

Shaking his head, he peers down at the floor before finding my eyes again. “You’re so proud that you can’t even thank me for doing what a husband should do in that situation.”

“You’re not my real husband, Hayes.”

“Yeah, you’ve made that perfectly clear. None of this is real, is it?” He throws the ice pack off of his bruised hand before tossing the other hand in the air. “Not you kissing me after dinner with my parents. Not us taking cooking classes together. Not cuddling with me on the couch while we watch television. And definitely not the way you look at me as if you’re feeling the same shit I am, huh?”

“What are you feeling then? Because I sure as hell can’t figure it out!”

He chuckles while running a hand through his hair. “That makes two of us, Beaverly. I have no idea what’s going