I Took The Bullet He Lost His Mind

It wasn't my presentation.

It was a slideshow.

High-definition photos.

Of me and Dante. In bed.

Me, on top of him, head thrown back in pleasure. His hands gripping my waist, his face a mask of pained ecstasy.

Another photo of me, kneeling before him.

My lips on his...

"Oh my god!"

"What is this?"

"That's disgusting!"

Gasps and murmurs erupted from the audience.

I stood frozen on the stage, feeling the entire world watching my most private moments.

When were these photos taken? I had no idea.

"Turn it off! Turn it off now!" I yelled at the tech crew.

But the photos kept changing.

Each one more explicit than the last.

I saw Isabella in the audience, covering her mouth with her hand to hide a smirk.

It was her. It had to be.

I stormed off the stage. Straight for her.

"You did this!" I grabbed her arm. "How did you get these photos?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Isabella said, feigning innocence. "Maybe you took them yourself? For blackmail?"

"You bitch!"

I raised my hand to slap her, but a strong hand caught my wrist.

It was Dante.

His face was a mask of cold fury.

He didn't look at me. He didn't look at Isabella. His eyes scanned the room, a predator assessing a threat.

"Enough," his voice was a low growl that cut through the silence. It wasn't directed at me. It was a command to the entire world.

He snapped his fingers, and two of his men instantly moved to the tech booth. The screen went black.

Then, his icy gaze finally landed on me. "You're done here."

"She did this! Dante, those photos—"

"Security," he cut me off, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "Escort Miss Vance out. Now."

Two guards in black suits moved toward me.

"Don't touch me!" I ripped my arm from Dante's grasp. "I'll walk out myself!"

But as I turned, my heel twisted.

I lost my balance and tumbled down the stage steps.

The back of my head slammed against the marble floor.

The world spun.

My vision blurred.

I heard someone scream, but the sound grew distant.

Then, everything went black.

...

I woke up in a hospital.

My head was wrapped in bandages, and an IV was taped to my arm.

"You're awake?" A gentle male voice.

I turned my head. A young man with glasses was sitting by my bed.

Mark. The accountant from my company.

"Did you bring me here?" My voice was weak.

"Yeah," he nodded. "You fell down the steps and hit your head pretty hard. The doctor said you have a mild concussion."

I remembered everything that happened, and tears started to fall.

"Those photos... they're all over the internet now, aren't they?"

Mark's expression grew heavy.

"I'm so sorry, Elara."

I closed my eyes.

My career was over.

My reputation was ruined.

Everything was gone.

"Actually... I've always wanted to tell you," Mark said suddenly. "I think you're special. Not just for your talent, but for who you are."

I opened my eyes and looked at him.

"You don't have to bow down to anyone," he continued. "You deserve better."

He pulled a bouquet of white roses from behind his back.

"These are for you. I hope you feel better soon."

I looked at the flowers, a warmth spreading through my chest.

In five years, no one had ever been this kind to me.

"Mark..."

The door to my hospital room didn’t open. It splintered inward.

The bang echoed in the small space, and Mark and I both flinched.

Standing in the doorway, silhouetted like the devil himself, was Dante Costello.

He ignored me. His eyes locked on Mark.

Three words snarled from between his teeth. A death threat.

"Get. The. Fuck. Out."