“So have you seen her since you’ve been back in town?” the host—a petite blonde in a cute denim dress—asks, and the cameraman zooms in on Cohen.
“I have.” He rubs his hands together as he rests his elbows on his knees and grins.
“So how did it go?” The camera pans out.
“I walked away without a scratch, so I’d say we’re making progress.” He chuckles, shaking his head, and the guys and host all laugh on cue.
“So she’s still angry you chose your music career over her?”
“Yeah.” He gives a fake somber look. “But I told her I’m not giving her up this time without a fight, and I’m not.” He looks directly into the camera.
“Turn it off,” I demand as anger makes my hands ball into fists at my sides.
“She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved.”
“Turn it off,” I repeat, and a second later, the screen goes black. Breathing heavily, I close my eyes in order to get some control of my temper. That’s when I feel it, heat prickling against my skin and the air around me getting thick with anger that is not my own. I open my eyes and look over at Maxim. He hasn’t moved an inch, but his jaw is twitching, and even with the space between us, I can see that his muscles are bunched.
“I’m going to kill him,” he whispers, turning his head just enough to meet my gaze, and the look in his eyes is so dark that I’m not sure he’s exaggerating.
Oh no.
“He’s not worth it.” I hold up my hands in front of me. “He really isn’t. This is all a publicity stunt. He just wants attention.”
“I don’t give a fuck if it’s a publicity stunt or him laying his heart on the line. That is fucked up.” He tosses his arm out and points at the TV. “He’s not stupid. He’s been in the entertainment business long enough to know that he’s swinging your ass out there every fucking time he mentions you in an interview, even if he’s not using your name.”
He isn’t wrong, so I press my lips together, trying to come up with some other way to calm him down.
“I told you that next time he did something, I would be dealing with him, and after his latest fuck-up, he’s mine.” He drops the remote to the top of the table and takes a step toward me. Normally, I would be all about him getting in my space, but the rage rolling off him has me instinctively taking a step back. “Don’t back away from me.”
“You’re kind of freaking me out,” I say softly, and his brows draw together.
“You’re never in danger when it comes to me.” He reaches out and grasps my hand, then pulls me roughly against his body so I’m firmly against him before he releases it and takes hold of both my hips. Lifting my hands, I place them on this chest, then tip my head back to look into his eyes. “Never.”
“I know.” And I do know that to the bottom of my soul, but I’ve never seen him mad before this moment. I thought I had, but I was wrong. I move my hands up to rest on the tops of his shoulders. “I get why you’re upset, but feeding into him is only going to make it worse. You’re the one who told me that, and you were right.”
“Baby,” he says gently, then he drops his chin so that his face is close to mine and growls, “I don’t give a fuck.” My eyes widen. “You’re mine, so him making it seem like you two still got a shot is not okay with me. Him doing it on television where his fucked-up fans can see, feel sorry for his bitch ass, then lash out at you is really fucking not okay with me.”
“Okay,” I say, because really, what else am I supposed to say? He’s right. Cohen making it seem like he has a shot at working things out with me is not okay, and him doing that on a TV show is extra wrong.
Especially when I asked him to stop, I mean, no, I didn’t tell him about all the messages and emails I received after he went on the radio, but he had to see the negativity aimed at me, since there were a lot of comments on his posts and photos on his social media. And unless he has someone else controlling all his content and he never looks at anything anyone says, he had to see the people bashing me, some threatening to do some not so very nice things if they ever ran into me in public.
How he could be okay with any of that and still claim to care about me proves he is full of shit. Then again, I’m coming to realize he didn’t really care about me when we were together. I was exactly like that chick I ran into in the bathroom when I was out with Maxim and his sister. I was just someone who was there when he needed and gullible enough to believe the bullshit coming out of his mouth. I saw it when we were together that the only thing he cared about was himself and his band making it big and that he would do whatever he had to do to make that possible—screw anyone attempting to get in the way of that. But I never thought he would use me as a means of gaining attention.