Chapter 52 I'm going to punch someone
Melissa’s POV
We both froze at the sound of the familiar voice.
Troy turned.
Standing a few feet away, with his phone in his hand, expression dark with barely contained fury, was Marcus.
Gavin’s assistant.
“Is there a problem here?” Marcus asked, his tone perfectly polite but his eyes promising violence.
Troy’s hand dropped from my arm immediately. “No. No problem. Just talking to my girlfriend.”
“Ex-girlfriend,” I corrected quickly.
“She doesn’t look like she wants to talk,” Marcus continued, not moving. “In fact, she looks scared. Should I call security?”
“That’s not necessary…” Troy started.
“I was asking her.” Marcus’s eyes found mine. “Melissa, should I call security?”
I opened my mouth. Then I closed it. My mind was racing.
If I said yes, there would be a scene.
If I said no…
“She’s fine,” Troy said quickly. “We’re fine. Right, Mel?”
Marcus ignored him entirely, still looking at me. Waiting.
“I…” My voice came out small. “I’m okay. Thank you.”
Marcus studied me for a long moment. Then he pulled out his phone and took a photo.
“What the hell…” Troy started forward.
“Insurance,” Marcus said calmly. “In case this becomes a he-said-she-said situation. I now have a photo of you with your hand on her. Time-stamped. Geo-tagged. Very useful if she decides to press charges later.”
Troy’s face went red. “I wasn’t doing anything…”
“Then you won’t mind leaving. Now.”
The two men stared at each other.
Finally, Troy stepped back. “Fine. Whatever. I was leaving anyway.”
He shoved past Marcus, but not before turning back to me one last time.
“This isn’t over, Mel. We’re not done.”
Then he was gone, disappearing around the corner.
I sagged against the wall, my legs suddenly weak.
Marcus was beside me immediately, his hand gentle on my elbow. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I said I’m fine, thank you Marcus.” But my voice cracked on the last word.
Marcus didn’t argue. He just stood there, until I could breathe normally again.
“Does Mr. Cross know about this?” he asked finally.
“About what?”
“About whoever that was. About him harassing you.”
“He’s not…it’s not harassment. He’s just… going through something.”
Marcus’s expression said he didn’t believe that for a second. “I should tell Mr. Cross.”
“No.” The word came out too fast, too sharp. “Please. Don’t tell Gavin. It’s handled. It’s fine.”
“Melissa…”
“Please, Marcus.”
He looked torn. Then he sighed. “Fine. But if he approaches you again, you tell someone. Security. Me. Mr. Cross. Someone. Understood?”
I nodded.
“Come on.” Marcus gestured toward the parking garage. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
We walked in silence, my mind still spinning.
Troy had looked so broken. So desperate.And some small, stupid part of me felt guilty.
Like maybe if I’d handled the breakup differently. If I’d been kinder. If I’d…
No.
This wasn’t my fault. His choices were his own.But the guilt sat heavy in my chest anyway.
At my car, Marcus waited until I was safely inside before heading back toward the building.
I started the car and pulled out of the garage, my hands still shaking on the wheel.
One problem at a time.
That’s what Gavin had said. Let him handle it.But Troy wasn’t Gavin’s problem to fix.He was mine.And I had no idea what to do about him.
I drove home in a daze, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tight my fingers ached.The penthouse parking garage was mostly empty when I pulled in. I killed the engine and just sat there, staring at the concrete wall in front of me.
Three texts from Aria lit up my screen.
Aria: Mel where are you
Aria: I’m at Rosie’s Bar downtown and I’m about three drinks past drunk
Aria: If you don’t come get me I’m going to punch the next person who looks at me wrong and I really don’t want to get arrested tonight
Despite everything, a small smile tugged at my lips.
Me: On my way. Don’t punch anyone yet.
Aria: No promises. Hurry.
I started the car again and pulled back out of the garage. The drive downtown took twenty minutes through evening traffic.
Rosie’s Bar was a dive in the best way…dim lighting, cheap drinks, and a jukebox that only played songs from the 80s. I spotted Aria immediately at the bar, her purple hair like a beacon.
She was arguing with the bartender about something, her hands gesturing wildly.
“Aria.” I slid onto the stool beside her.
She spun around, her face lighting up. “Mel! Thank God. Tell this man that I’m perfectly capable of having one more drink.”
“You’ve had six,” the bartender said flatly. He was older, with the patient expression of someone who’d dealt with drunk college students for decades.
“Six is nothing. I’m Asian. We’re built differently.”
“Aria.” I put a hand on her arm. “Let’s get you home.”
“I don’t want to go home.” Her voice cracked slightly. “Home is where my parents are planning my wedding to a man who gives me serial killer vibes.”
The bartender’s eyebrows rose.
“Long story,” I told him. “Can I get some water for her?”
“Already on it.” He slid a glass across the bar.
I made Aria drink half of it before attempting to get her off the stool. She swayed slightly when she stood, and I had to wrap an arm around her waist to steady her.
“You’re such a good friend,” she mumbled, her head dropping onto my shoulder. “The best friend. I love you so much.”
“I love you too. Come on, let’s get you to the car.”
We made it outside into the cool night air. Aria took a deep breath and seemed to steady slightly.
“Okay. I’m good. I’m totally good.” She straightened, then immediately stumbled.
I caught her. “Sure you are.”
“I’m serious! Look, I can walk in a straight line.” She proceeded to walk in anything but a straight line toward my car.
I unlocked the passenger door and helped her in. She slumped against the seat, her eyes already starting to close.
“Don’t fall asleep yet,” I said, climbing into the driver’s seat. “I need you to stay awake until we get you home.”
“Mmm, but I’m so tired. And sad. So sad and tired.” Her eyes opened slightly. “Wait. Why do you look sad? You’re not supposed to be sad. I’m the sad one tonight.”
“I’m fine.”
“Liar.” She poked my arm. “You have your sad face on.