These Games We Play

Chapter Twenty one: Press conference

"I thought you said you'd take care of Ethan." My fingers tightened around my cell phone, and my free was nervously tapping on the middle seat. "For fun."

I'd called Alisa the moment I'd made it to the car. Grayson had followed and buckled himself into the back seat beside me. I didn't have the time or mental space to dwell on his presence beside me. Oren was driving. I was pissed.

"I did take care of him," Alisa assured me. "You and your sister are both in possession of temporary restraining orders. If Ethan attempts to contact or comes within a thousand feet of either of you for any reason, he's facing arrest." I stopped tapping my fingers but couldn't manage to loosen my grip on the phone.

"Then why is he at the gates of Hawthorne House right now?" Ethan was here. In Texas. When Nash had called, Pip was safely inside, but Ethan was spamming her phone with texts and calls, demanding a face-to-face.

"I'll handle this, Eva." Alisa recovered almost instantly. "The firm has some contacts on the local police force who know how to be discreet." Right now, being discreet wasn't my priority. My priority was Pip.

"Does my sister know about this restraining order?"

"She signed the paperwork." That was a hedge if I'd ever heard one. "I'll handle it, Eva. You just lie low." She hung up, and I let the hand holding my phone drop into my lap.

"Can you drive any faster?" I asked Oren. Pip had her own security detail. Ethan wouldn't get a chance to hurt her physically.

"Nash is with your sister." Grayson spoke for the first time since we'd entered the car. "If the gentleman so much as tries to lay a finger on her, I assure you, my brother will take pleasure in removing that finger."

I wasn't sure if Grayson was referring to separating said finger from Libby's body or from Ethan's. I hoped it was the second option.

"Ethan isn't a gentleman," I told Grayson. "And I'm not just worried about him getting violent." I was worried about him being sweet, worried that, instead of losing his temper, he'd be so kind and tender that she'd start to question the fading bruise ringing her eye. I was messaging Lia and Cam now making sure they were safe. Cam was with Xander, and Lia was in her room. Both are perfectly fine and safe.

"If it would make you feel better, I can have him removed from the property," Oren offered. "But that might cause a bit of a scene for the press." The press? My brain clicked into gear.

"There weren't any paparazzi at the foundation." I'd noted that when we'd arrived. "They're back at the house?" The wall around the estate could keep the press off the property, but nothing was stopping them from congregating, legally, on a public street.

"If I were a betting man," Oren commented, "I would guess that Ethan placed a few calls to reporters to ensure an audience." I was a betting woman, and I would out money on the fact that Oren was right.

There was nothing discreet about the scene that greeted us when Oren pulled up to the drive, past a verifiable horde of press. Up ahead, I could see Ethan's form outside the wrought-iron gates. Two other men were standing near him. Even from a distance, I could make out their police uniforms. And so could the paparazzi. So much for Alisa's friends on the police force being discreet. I gritted my teeth and thought about the way Ethan would guilt Pip if there was footage of him being dragged down the drive.

"Stop the car," I snapped. Oren stopped, then turned around in his seat to face me.

"I would advise you to stay in this vehicle."

That wasn't advice. That was an order. I reached for the door handle.

"Eva." Oren's tone stopped me dead in my tracks. "If you're getting out, I'm getting out first." Remembering our little one-on-one that morning, I decided not to test him.