Alison Storm

Chapter 9

Rhys

Two hours.

That's how long it took for that asshole who took Alison's—I mean, Allie's—picture to sell it to some sleazy gossip website.

As predicted, they make her out to be my girlfriend. Then throw even more bullshit into the article. Like that I'm her fifth boyfriend this week, and that she is very likely to fuck some other guys brains out during our stay at the party.

Why do they even care?

Allie is currently dancing together with some other girls, and although I don't want to take my eyes off of her, I promised, not only her, but also her father that I would take care of little Miss Sparkles, I have to.

Taking my eyes off her is a great decision because just when I look towards the guys right behind her, I find one of them holding his phone just a little too low, right before a flash appears and disappears.

Normally, I wouldn't get mad at this. With any other client I had, I never got mad when things like this happened. But then again, I never really faced as many goddamn people taking pictures of my client like with Allie.

And to make matters worse, I think I like Allie a little too much, hence my turning stomach when I see the frat showing the picture off to his friends.

In a matter of seconds, I'm across the room, standing in front of the redhead. My veins feel icy, colder than I've ever known they could get, as I look at the fucker.

Redhead has the audacity to grin up at me, nodding his head like he is asking me what's the matter. Like he doesn't know.

"Give me your phone," I say, holding my hand out.

"No?"

I tried it the nice way. I tried asking. I tried sounding calm and polite...somewhat at least. But stupid people are just stupid. And sex-offender will be sex-offender, no matter how minor their action seems to be. Taking a picture of someone's underwear without their consent, yup, definitely counts as sexual assault.

"Give me. Your. Goddamn. Phone." I don't give the redhead a chance to say no again, instead I grab onto his collar and pull him close. "Now."

"And you are?"

Alright, let's pull out the threats then, shall we?

"Jameson, I give you two more seconds before I call her father and let her know what you did. I'm sure you'd like to keep you head on your body, am I right?"

The colour on his face vanishes just as his phone ends up in my possession. I never thought I'd ever use Atlas Storm to threaten someone, and yet here we are. It's...amazing how fast people give in by mentioning his name, or hinting at him.

Once I've got his phone, I take a lucky guess to unlock his phone. "0000? Seriously?" I almost laugh at his stupidity, but I don't have time for it.

I open Jameson's camera roll, finding fifteen pictures of Allie, five of which show what's underneath her skirt, two of her cleavage.

There are multiple things I could do right now. Like, delete all fifteen pictures. Smash his phone. Snatch the phone and keep it. Or just give it back...Well, or I check how many pictures he has on his phone—72 in total—and decide that it can't be anything important.

So I delete his entire camera roll.

I mean, who the fuck only has 72 pictures on their phone?

Not Allie, so much do I know. From what I could tell the other day, she must have over 50 thousand, a thousand of those saved in her favourites folder. I have far less than that, and still a lot more than 72.