I had told Anthony once, years ago, about how a relative had pushed me into the ocean when I was a child. How I'd nearly drowned. How even after I learned to swim, deep water still made me shake so hard I couldn't breathe.
He'd held me then, his voice fierce with tenderness, promising he would always protect me. Swearing that as long as he was there, nothing like that would ever happen again.
Now he was using that same childhood wound as a blade, and twisting it.
Rex Lambert, Anthony's agent and the only witness to our secret relationship, shifted uncomfortably. The look on his face was something close to guilt.
"Anthony, it's the middle of winter. The shore is at least twelve miles out. She's one person. How is she supposed to swim that? What if something happens?"
"She doesn't have that kind of money. She took care of you for years. Don't take this too far."
Anthony lit a cigarette and let out a thin stream of smoke, his lips curling into a sneer.
"Too far? She should be grateful I'm not charging her for a ticket to the party."
"With her paygrade, she wouldn't even qualify to set foot on this deck. I've been too soft on her, that's the problem. Time she learned her place."