Come To Me | Jerrie

Chapter 4

I step out of Raven's building into the warm air, but a chill settles over me. I can't believe what happened in the meeting. Of all the possible scenarios I was prepared for, Zayn being the other publicist and Gigi being a consultant was not one of them. I heard she'd been busy with her firm, but her attempt at surprise when she saw me was complete bullshit.

Then to have my research stolen by Zayn? I'm at a loss on what to do. All I know is there's no way I'll allow him to get away with this. I've never been aggressive with him—I was always the perfect girlfriend, quiet and supportive. Good thing I'm not his girlfriend anymore. I deserve an explanation for this, among many other things.

I stand off to the side of the main entrance, waiting for Zayn to exit. I hear him before I see him. He's talking on his phone as he walks out, so I stand and wait. With each passing second my anger grows more and more. Who does that to someone? It's so unethical. So ... fucked-up. I'm about to lose it. He continues talking to whoever's on the other line while I stare incredulously at this man I loved with every fiber of my being. The man with warm brown eyes, a smile that could light up a room, and soft dark hair, which I used to run my hands through to put him to sleep. That was then. Right now all I see is a liar and a thief. I'm ready to get this confrontation over with. I walk over, grab his phone out of his hand, and end his call.

"What the—" Zayn starts to say, whipping his head up. When he realizes it's me, his mouth quirks into a self-satisfied grin.

That's all I need to release the fury I was barely holding on to.

"How dare you? You son of a bitch!"

"Now Perrie, you need to calm down. I'm not sure why you're so upset." A red haze begins to take over my vision.

"Not sure? Are you stupid? Oh wait! I already know the answer to that, you prick!" The scales deciding whether or not to inflict bodily harm are tipping decidedly toward inflicting. If I were on a seesaw, I'd be on the downside, heading to hell.

He looks at me as though I'm insane. I'm sure I appear to be to anyone passing us on the streets of New York City.

He raises one eyebrow and smirks. "You should really be more careful. I hear it's very easy to forget things when you're not paying attention. Like the funny way passwords save when you login on someone else's computer."

"Wow! You have some balls. You hack into my email, steal and use my presentation, and this is what you say to me? No 'I'm sorry?'" I'm trying to control myself, but each time he speaks the fight is leaving me.

"Well, love, it's not hacking if I have a password. Plus, we were going to share a life together. I didn't think you'd mind sharing a few statistics for old times' sake," he replies smugly.

That's it. I raise my hand, rear it back, and slap him across the face, enjoying the bite as it connects. The sound reverberates, causing a few people to stop and stare. My palm stings, but it reminds me that this is real. I've hit him. Finally. I've done what I wanted to for far too long and it feels damn good. Considering I had to sit through a two-hour meeting next to his self-righteous, project-stealing ass, I've earned the right to do a lot worse.

The shock blankets his face before he recovers, rubbing his now reddened skin. "Well that wasn't very nice."

I continue forward, pure hatred flowing through my body—it's red, ugly, and can no longer be controlled. He's quick, though, and anticipates my next move. His arms wrap around my shoulders, pulling me against him. Using whatever strength I have, I punch him in the chest over and over again. I know I'm not causing any damage, but I can't stop. Each blow is a release of the pain he's inflicted on my life. The cheating, stealing, lying, and the way he makes me feel worthless expels with each fist I land.