The moment I pushed open the door, the atmosphere hit me like a wall.
Anthony sat on the sofa. Cigarette butts littered the floor around his feet.
When he saw the men's jacket on my shoulders, he exploded.
He charged over, ripped the jacket off me, and hurled it to the ground, tearing at the fabric.
"Layla Sullivan, you're really something! You roll out of my bed and find yourself a new sugar daddy just like that?"
His eyes were bloodshot, his voice unhinged.
"Who is he? That Scott Delgado? When did you two start?"
He grabbed the scissors from the table and slashed the expensive jacket to shreds.
"I didn't! He saved William!"
I lunged forward, trying to salvage it—it wasn't even mine to ruin.
Anthony slammed me down onto the coffee table—right onto the shards from the glass he'd smashed yesterday.
Glass bit into my back. I gasped at the searing pain.
"Saved William?" He laughed, cold and cruel. "I think you're just addicted to selling yourself. For that half-dead bastard, you'd spread your legs for any man, wouldn't you?"
Smack!
I slapped him with everything I had.
Anthony's head snapped to the side. A bright red handprint bloomed across his cheek.