Page 78 of Cross Me

The conference continued, but I checked out. Why hadn’t she told me what she’d planned? Why had she gone to Edward instead?

When the audience ended and I no longer had to smile politely for the cameras, I escaped into the Royal Closet.

“Give me a moment,” I barked, hearing the sound of someone follow me in.

A hand grabbed my shoulder and jerked me back. I spun around, coming face to face with Anders. It was like looking into my own eyes—the same color and the same anger. I wondered if he saw his own reflecting back at him.

“You can’t lock her away,” Anders growled.

“You’re on dangerous ground,” I warned him. “Leave.”

“I don’t take orders from you, unlike the rest of the puppets here.”

“Anders!” Clara’s voice broke in sharply.

Neither of us moved. We were inches from each other and it was taking a considerable amount of restraint not to tackle him.

“Clara, my love, please give us a moment,” I gritted out.

“That was polite.” Anders spat the words. “I didn’t expect please to be in your vocabulary.”

“I have a rather impressive vocabulary. Ask me how many words I can come up with for how petulant you’re being,” I said coolly.

“Petulant? Fancy. Where I’m from we stick with calling a wanker a wanker.”

“Fine,” I said, taking the bait, “you’re a wanker.”

“You forced her to quit,” he accused.

“Clara makes her own decisions.” I didn’t bother to add that this was one she hadn’t bothered to run past me. More people filtered into the room. Norris moved closer, giving us room, but staying near. I spotted Henry and Edward over Anders’ shoulder.

It wasn’t until Brexton entered that anyone commented on the scene playing out before them. “Oh bloody hell,” he said. “You’re on your own, Poor Boy.”

“Don’t worry. I have this in hand,” I said without looking away from Anders.

“You would think that,” Anders muttered.

“Try me,” I dared him.

He had one good hand and it flew at the same time Clara stepped between us. I reacted instinctively, covering her body with my own. Anders’s fist bounced off my shoulder. I sheltered my wife, throwing a murderous look at him.

“Get him the fuck out of here,” I ordered.

Anders didn’t resist as Brexton grabbed his shoulder and dragged him toward the door.

“Clara, I’m sorry,” he called, ashen-faced. “I would never hurt you.”

“No, you won’t, because you’re never coming near her again.” It didn’t matter if we shared the same blood. Anderson Stone was dead to me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CLARA

Everything had happened so fast. From the moment I’d met Alexander, he always positioned himself between me and the world. He’d been there to carry me away from the paparazzi. He’d stepped in front of a bullet for me. It wasn’t his protection that surprised me. It was Anders’ recklessness that did. I peeked over Alexander’s shoulder, feeling torn as Brex dragged Anders away. It was hard to think with the stifling amount of testosterone in the air, but I knew kicking him out wasn’t going to fix whatever was broken between them.

Only the truth could do that.

I ducked free of Alexander. “Stop!”