Golden Girl - Conor Maynard

Part 19

I sighed harshly before turning back round in my seat and getting out along with Conor. The walk to the back of the vehicle was long and torturous because I knew what was going to happen. She was going to come out with all this crap.

As we reached the back of the car, her grin got wider. As if she was glad that she managed to make Conor hurt me accidentally. I wiped the blood from my head before facing her forcefully.

"Can we help you?" Conor snappily asked.

"You can. She can't," she seductively asked.

I rolled my eyes. "He's married, Annabella."

"So?" She questioned. "A marriage can be dissolved by divorce."

"I love my wife, Annabella. And I am not going to be divorcing her any time soon. So, you can get that sick fantasy out of your head," Conor spoke.

"But, honey," she sweetly said. "What about our love?"

"There is no love here, honey," he spat sarcastically.

"Annabella, don't you ever get tired of chasing someone who clearly doesn't want you?" I asked, as the paparazzi kept snapping and recording.

"Not really," she answered.

"And what about your own husband? Your son? I really do think they'd love to see more of you. Instead of reading all this rubbish on the internet and the news, that you're off trying to get with someone who's at least ten years younger than you. Someone who's about to become a father to his own kids."

"Don't you dare bring that bastard up," she spat sourly.

"Hit a nerve?" I questioned with a raised brow.

Conor opened the boot while I was talking with her, trying to make her see sense in what she was doing. Playing with two people's lives. It was her intention though. To make me feel like I was nothing to Conor, when it was the complete opposite to what she was saying.

My hands were cusped on my stomach, in a protective manner from her. I was prepared for if she came at me with something sharp and tried to puncture my stomach, harming our children in the process. I'm hoping she doesn't, but it does well to prepare.

Conor turned me around to face him, and I saw the first aid kit strewed across the boot. He was trying to fix his mistake. His hurt towards me, which was accidental on his behalf, because it was her fault that we had to brake suddenly. Her fault that the paps are standing around us taking pictures. I still have no idea how she knew where we were, because only our parents, siblings and publicists knew where we were going to be today.

"I'm sorry," Conor whispered as he wiped the blood from my forehead.

"You have nothing to apologise for, Conor. You have to hit the brakes, otherwise you would've mowed her down and then you would've been doing life in jail. If you'd killed her, or 10 years for attempted murder. I'd rather have a bump and a cut, than not having you in my life at all and only seeing you on several occasions," I softly said.

"I know but sometimes I just wish that I hadn't listened to her blackmail and just told you the truth. Told you from the start about everything, but I was scared."

"Conor, we've said our pieces on that and it's time to move forward. Yes, I would've liked it but it's happened and now we need to figure out a way to get her out of our lives. Before she causes something to happen."

"Sam," he announced as he placed the plaster on my head. "Sam can help us."

"We keep saying Sam but we keep forgetting to even phone or make an appointment with him," I laughed gently.