I walk on shaky legs to the press pit, barely feeling Matt’s steady hand on my back. My head is swimming. I feel sick.
The first journalist, a man with fake teeth and fake hair and a fake tan, leans over the barrier, shoving his microphone in my face. I stare at the blank, shiny lens that his cameraman points my way.
“Miss Saint,” he purrs. “You look ravishing tonight.”
I nod slightly, waiting for him to move on. I don’t really want to hear any comments on how sexy I am, right now. The interviewer clears his throat.
“So, Briar. You’re about to turn twenty-nine, aren’t you?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Well, Happy Birthday in advance. You’ve had a busy year, haven’t you? What with filming Players, the upcoming release of your new beauty line, and now a new boyfriend?” He glances back at Matt, who remains stony.
I nod, smiling through gritted teeth. “It’s been an interesting year.”
“Full of highs and lows, would you say?” The interviewer leans in further. “Of course, we’ve all been following you in the news. It looks like you’ve attracted a bit of unwanted attention, eh?”
“I didn’t attract anything,” I snap. “This wasn’t my fault, it had nothing to do with me, or the way I look, or the way I dress.” Matt’s hand slides to my arm. He grips me firmly.
The interviewer looks taken aback. “I’m sure,” he says. “We’ve been trawling your social media, and it seemed just a few minutes ago, your unnamed stalker struck again. Would you like to explain what happened there?”
“The issue with her stalker is an ongoing case,” Matt interrupts from behind me. “She will not be discussing it until it has been resolved. If she ever wants to.”
Julie frowns, looking between him and me. “Well, I really don’t think that’s necessar—”
“No,” Matt orders, and she shuts up. I look over his shoulder, and see a couple of reporters giggling over their phones, glancing up at me and whispering.
Embarrassment burns in my stomach. Everything starts to blur. I feel that old wash of panic roll over me. My eyes dart from one face to the next. I have no idea what X looks like. For all I know, he’s right here, ready to jump out at me.
I grit my teeth and push through the fear. No more. No more. I spent my whole life as a child actor getting pushed around by adult men who were bigger than me and more powerful than me. I’m not doing it again. I’m not. If this guy thinks he can stalk me, intimidate me, ruin my life, and run me into the ground hiding from him, he’s the thickest man alive. I don’t let men treat me like that. Ever.
I open my mouth. “Actually,” I say loudly, “I would like to give a statement about the man who has been stalking and harassing me.”
Matt frowns and shakes his head, but the man looks delighted.
“Oh!” He shuffles the notecards he was holding, then just dumps them on the ground. “Okay, then. What are your thoughts on the man?”
“I think,” I pause to consider my wording. “That he is the most repugnant man on the planet.”
Matt flinches behind me. The interviewer whistles. “Coming in strong, there.”
“Well, I’ve already seen his genitalia, so I would say that he came in strong, actually. I don’t see why I have to be polite, when he’s completely incapable of not sexually harassing me.”
“Are you referring to the picture which was posted to your social media accounts? That was his, uh… him, right?”
“You mean the one-inch flesh-coloured slug?” I shrug. “It certainly wasn’t mine.”
“Briar.” Matt says behind me. “Stop.”
I ignore him. “Yes, that is the man I’m talking about. He’s been sending me creepy love letters for years now. I’m sure you all saw that he recently climbed in through my bedroom window and jerked off over my unconscious body. Thanks to whoever leaked that story, by the way. Really fucking charming of you. I love when the worst night of my life becomes tabloid entertainment for the masses.”
The interviewer glances off to someone on his right. “That sounds terrible, Briar. Just a reminder, this is live TV, so if you could keep your language PG—”
“And now I’ve just been told that he’s followed me all the way to LA, to—” I frown. “Let’s see, what was it?” I pull the message up on my phone. “Get inside my pretty mouth.” I look up into the camera. “If I was ever unfortunate enough to have your prick in my mouth, X, you’d never regain the ability to have children. I bite. Hard enough to hear the bones crunch. You might think you want me, but if you had me, you wouldn’t have a clue what to do with me. I would eat you alive and spit you out. So I suggest you back the fuck off, and stop living in this deranged fantasy world where any woman would want a disgusting creep like you.”
Matt’s voice is urgent. “Briar. Stop.”
“No!” I spin on him, my voice climbing higher. “I’m not going to lie down and take this! This isn’t okay! It doesn’t matter how big a fan you are, if you take it upon yourself to break into my house, you can fuck right off!” He grabs my wrist, and I shake him off, turning back to the camera. “But, hey, maybe I’m being too harsh. I get it. It must be hard, living life, when your very presence makes women want to staple their pussies shut. I’m sure it’s unbelievably lonely, watching other men get dates, while you have to stalk your imaginary girlfriends from afar, hoping they won’t see your face and call the police. Hell, it must be really frustrating, how every girl you talk to at a party instinctively covers her drink, because you’re so goddamn gross—”
“Right. That’s it.” Arms wrap around my waist, and I shriek as I’m lifted bodily into the air and away from the microphone. The interviewer gapes, and I see the cameraman tracking the movement.
I thrash, trying to shove out of Matt’s iron grip. “Get off me! I’m talking!”
“No, you’re not,” he growls in my ear. “You’re done. You’re done.” He settles me over his shoulder and starts carrying me away from the press line, towards the road.
I kick him in the shin, digging in my stiletto, and he doesn’t even flinch. “Get. Off. Me.” I hiss.
He ignores me, pushing through the crowd roughly. Everyone turns and stares at us. I see camera flashes go off and people pulling out their phones to record me getting dragged away.
“Are you okay?” Someone calls after us.
“Is this man bothering you?”
“Would you like us to call the cops?”
“Try it,” Matt barks.
I kick him again. “Put me down!”
“Will you just go back to the cameras?”
“Obviously! I was in the middle of speaking!”
“Then no. Jesus, how could you be so stupid?!” I can feel him shaking under me.
“I was defending myself, you goddamn gorilla! Put me down!”
We reach the curb. Kenta and Glen are both standing by the car, looking grim. Matt sets me back on the ground and yanks open the back door. “Get in.”
“No!” I shout.
His face is a frozen mask. He looks completely blank, but I can see all the anger under the surface. His grip tightens on my elbow. “Get in before I put you in.”
“I’m not done!”
Matt sighs, wraps his arms around my waist, and picks me up, shovelling me into the backseat and climbing in after me. Kenta and Glen get in as well, slamming the doors shut behind them.
“Take route E,” Matt tells the driver.
The driver frowns. “Sir—”
“Drive!” Matt barks.
“But the freeway would—”
“Her security has been compromised. Now drive us around the long way, before the pervert following her sees all the idiotic shit she just spouted on live television.”
Anger burns through me. “It wasn’t idiotic shit,” I snap, “I was defending myself. How dare you pick me up like that?!”
“The contract you signed granted us permission to use appropriate force to remove you from dangerous situations. You were being a danger to yourself.”
“I was answering an interview question!”
“You ignored me!” He bellows, his blue eyes flashing. “I told you to stop talking to that reporter, and you didn’t!”
“Is that what this is about? You’re mad I didn’t roll over to follow your orders?”
He takes a shaky breath. “You promised, when you signed the contract, that you were going to defer to us on matters of safety. You put it into goddamn writing, but of course, you don’t give a shit about that, do you? All you care about is getting in the press, and always having the last word.”
I gape. “You think I did this because I wanted attention? I did it because I’m sick of getting harassed!”
He ignores me, turning to Kenta. “Call the PR woman. Have her order a car to the hotel and write an apology. A thorough apology.”
“On it.” Kenta pulls out his phone and starts tapping away.
I look between the men, incredulous. I can’t believe this is happening. “What the Hell is wrong with you people? I’m not apologising, I didn’t do anything wrong. He broke into my house, followed me across the world, hacked into my social media and posted a bloody picture of his genitals—”
“It doesn’t matter what he did!” Matt shouts. “This isn’t about your fucking ego!”
“No,” I agree, “it’s about the fact that he’s violating me. How can you not see that I need to stand up for myself? Matt—” I reach over to grab his arm, and he turns to me, rage contorting his handsome face—and then suddenly freezes. Every muscle in his body goes rigid. His eyes slip out of focus, as if he’s thinking hard about something else. I can feel him shaking slightly under me. My heart starts beating in my throat as the car falls silent.
“Briar,” Kenta says quietly. “Let him go. Slowly.”
