Free Stepbrother: No Boundaries by Amber Branley Page A

the four glasses spill onto their designer clothes I feel my face turn ghostly white.
     
    What the fuck kind of temper tantrum did I just throw ?
     
    I turn to run and hear Scott’s deep scream echo through my ears along with tears coming from the model. I don’t hear Walter say anything and I assume he’s probably just sitting there in shock covered in food and spilled red wine. I feel like a fool, and like a horrible person. The cold night greets my cheeks as I scurry out the door and prepare myself for the worst.
     
    I don’t know where I’m going because my only home is Scott’s at this point and I realize that it certainly has to be over. He won’t be with me after that outburst and I don’t blame him. I’m running down the sidewalk trying to hail a fucking cab but they all whiz past me because of course they’re taken when I need one so desperately. I glance back in a panic as I feel one of my heels falling off my foot and I kick the other one off and begin to run barefoot on the freezing cement.
     
    It’s over.
    It’s fucking done .
     
    Tears are streaming down my cheek and quickly turning to icicles and I’m running up Broadway as people stare casually at me like I’m just some insane New Yorker on drugs. But I’m not, I swear. I’m a billionaire’s woman.
     
    Was. Was a billionaire’s woman . Now I’m nothing.
     
    ****
     
    I’ve been walking in the cold for two hours and I know I must be getting pneumonia. The tears have stopped and my makeup’s ruined and plastered on my face; frozen there from my dried tears. I glance at my reflection in my phone’s camera and cringe when I see the mascara running down my cheeks, and I walk to a water fountain in a small park by the Hudson River and splash my face repeatedly despite the frigid temperature of the water.
     
    What the fuck have I done? It’s over, I caused the biggest outburst of all time and it’s over. I’m such a horrible, wretched woman .
     
    I look at my missed calls and see that Scott has called me six times. If he cared he’d probably call me more than that, but he hasn’t. Either that or he’s acting like he doesn’t care. By now I’m certain he’s home and he’s thrown my bags and clothes to the curb, or ordered his butler to do so. He wouldn’t get his hands dirty with the trash that belonged to a bitch like me.
    But I’m not a bitch, it was just an accident. I’m a lightweight as far as alcohol goes and I… I… I just lost my temper, Scott .
     
     
    He wouldn’t hurt me – he’d never do that. Under his bad boy tough guy alpha façade he’s a softie and he knows it – and fucking hates it. He’d just look at me and not say a word, just point to the door. Yeah, that’s what would happen if I showed up there right now, which is why I didn’t bother trying to hail a cab anymore after twenty minutes of failing at getting one. There’d be no point because he’d have already beaten me home.
     
    My frantic plan was to rush there in a cab and beat him there, grab my belongings quickly and go to my friends – or hell, a hotel if I had to. I just knew it was over and never wanted to see him again because I made such a fool of myself. I just want to forget about the last week and…
     
    But I love him so much – I’d never be able to forget him.
    Well get used to trying, sweetie – because he’s done with you, I guarantee that much .
     
    I decide to try and get a cab again. I’ve been out in the cold for two hours too long and I’m only wearing a dress. I’m seriously going to get sick if I stay out here anymore. I can’t stand this, I can’t stand myself, I can’t stand anything. The bitch said I was fat – cunt .
     
    I walk across the West Side Highway and head towards Chambers street. I hail the first yellow cab I see and it stops. I crawl in the back seat and tell him to take me to a hotel on Eighty Fifth Street and Columbus – there’s a cheap old hotel there and I know it’ll be my best