Page 153 of Love Unwritten

His scowl deepens. “Do you need me to do something or talk to someone?”

I shake my head. “Can you just…be here while I talk? You don’t have to say anything. I just—”

“Whatever you need.”

He follows me to the couch and sits. After I take a few deep breaths, I turn my microphone and video back on before introducing Rafael, who waves with a grunt. I’m sure his lack of enthusiasm has everything to do with Cole smiling back at him.

“Rafael. Nice to see you again.”

He tips his chin. “Cole.”

“So, Ellie.” The lawyer doesn’t smile, but her eyes soften a bit as our gazes connect. “I was asking you about your relationship with Ava.”

“Right. Ava.” I subconsciously rub at the crescent moon tattoo on the inside of my arm, right above my elbow. “We became best friends in high school, after she moved to Lake Wisteria during middle school. We were both new to town, so it was easy to bond over that.”

My hand trembles, and I tighten it into a fist. Rafael uncurls my fingers one by one before intertwining them with his.

A simple squeeze of Rafael’s hand gives me the confidence I need. I don’t look at him while I share my story about moving to Los Angeles and all the songs Ava stole from me, but I can feel his anger rolling off him with every new piece of information I share.

It takes a while to get through all the little details and pieces of evidence, but once I get to speaking about Darius Larkin, Rafael’s mood goes completely dark.

“Darius was well aware of my involvement in creating the album but didn’t credit me for my work.” I take a deep, painful breath. “I don’t know if this matters for the case, but he…” I can’t find the strength to continue.

Rafael stiffens beside me.

Cole leans forward, looking absolutely enraged. “I know about Mr. Larkin’s reputation with women.”

“Well, I don’t.” Rafael’s lethal tone sends a shiver down my spine.

The lawyer speaks up. “He tends to scout out younger talent. Typically, women who don’t have much experience in the business or know much about him.” Her sad smile makes my chest clench to the point of pain. “They don’t have the resources to fight back, even if they wanted to.”

“I wasn’t aware.” My voice sounds so small and distant.

I never knew Darius had a reputation. Never even thought to ask anyone about it because him signing Ava onto the record label was supposed to be our big break after spending a few years struggling in Los Angeles.

When I came back to Lake Wisteria, I drove myself crazy, thinking that maybe I did something to lead Darius on and make him think I was interested in him romantically. That if I had kept my head down, my mouth shut, or worn less eye-catching clothes, he wouldn’t have been interested in me.

God. I spent so many months blaming myself when I should have blamed him. Willow told me as much, but it is different hearing the truth from a complete stranger.

Tears rise to my eyes, and no amount of blinking saves me. Rafael’s grip on my hand tightens, keeping me grounded as the truth tumbles out of me.

“I didn’t want to kiss him, but he…” I stumble over how to phrase what happened. “I wasn’t given a choice, but I didn’t make one either. I just stood there, completely frozen, while he… Ava walked into the recording studio and saw us—saw him touching me. Him kissing me.”

Once the tears start, I can’t stop them. “All hell broke loose when Ava showed up. She had to physically be restrained after slapping me, but that didn’t stop her mouth. She called me a dirty slut. A whore.”

The veins in Rafael’s neck look ready to explode.

“She told me she was going to steal my songs like I stole her boyfriend,” I say between sobs, totally unfazed at the idea of Cole and the lawyer watching me break down. “She was my best friend for over a decade, and it was like I didn’t even recognize her anymore.”

Rafael wraps his arm around my waist and crushes my body against his. I press my cheek against his chest and cry, all while he whispers reassuring words against the top of my head and rubs my back.

I feel instant relief in his arms, and it’s everything I needed and more. He doesn’t stop rubbing my back—doesn’t stop making his presence felt—while I cry.

Once my tears stop flowing and my breathing evens out, he presses his mouth against my ear and whispers, “When I’m done with him, that piece of shit is going to wish he never laid eyes on you.”

My body vibrates as I look into his dark eyes. “Please don’t murder someone on my behalf.”

“There are plenty of ways to destroy someone without ever committing a crime.”