3: Wedding Bells

At first I didn't process his words but then I saw him walking away.

"Wait, what?" I trailed after him.

I couldn't catch up because his legs were trailing down those steps at the speed of light.

By the time I got outside, all I heard was the zooming off of his Range Rover

"Shit, shit!" I groaned, fumbling for my car keys. I pulled out of there at full speed, trailing after him.

Why the fuck did he even care? I was sure be didn't know where Dawson lived... Right?

Wrong!

Every corner, every traffic light, this man was getting it all accurately.

"What the actual fuck?!" I honked my horn on repeat, trying to beat the cars that tried to come between us, none of that got him to stop. I knew people were staring at the hot chase in the middle of Manhattan but I couldn't care less.

When he turned onto Dawson’s street I felt sick. He parked right in front of the building.

I slammed my brakes and jumped out.

"What are you doing right now?" I held his wrist but it did nothing to stop him, "how on earth do you know where he lives?!"

He walked up to the door and knocked hard, three loud bangs.

"Art, please talk to me first," I said, grabbing his arm and pulling. "Just stop for a second and talk to me okay? We don’t have to do this right now. Dawson didn’t mean it I swear, please, let’s just talk about it first."

He didn’t even look at me. He knocked again louder.

"Art, I’m serious," I said my voice getting higher.

The door swung open fast.

Dawson stood there in his stained shirt. His eyes went to me first and his face changed. "Red, I knew you’d come back to your senses and-"

Art’s hand wrapped around Dawson’s throat fast. He pushed him backward hard until Dawson’s back slammed into the wall.

"Oh my God!" My hands immediately flew to my mouth.

Dawson choked and grabbed at Art’s wrist, trying to pull it off.

Art didn’t say anything. He kept his hand tight around Dawson’s throat and started punching him with the other fist.

He hit him in the face once, then twice then in the stomach, and then he added a punch with every word, "you couldn't pick on someone your own fucking size, you bastard." I didn't know he could speak that deeply.

"You're going to kill him!" I tried to grab him from behind but it was useless.

The punches kept coming nonstop.

He punched Dawson in the ribs over and over. Dawson tried to swing back but Art dodged and kept landing hits.

"Art stop!" I yelled stepping closer. I raked my fingers through my hair and my hands shook. His eyes were red and my eyes widened at the blood dripping from Dawson's nose.

I let out a deafening scream and that seemed to get Art's attention. He finally paused, cracked his neck slowly to one side, pushed his tongue into his cheek with that cocky look, he watched as Dawson slid down the wall coughing and holding his face.

And then he crouched so he was matching Dawson's sunken height.

He cupped Dawson's face, and got him to meet his gaze, "I'm very possessive of what's mine, so the next time you think about laying a finger on even a strand on her head, you can forget about being a living man."

He stood to his feet, loosened his tie, and then wrapped his hand around my wrist, not peeling his eyes off of me, "I'm going to marry her," he started, "and you'll be at the fucking wedding."

I was too shocked to process what just happened, the next thing I knew he was dragging me out of there.

My eyes remained on Dawson. Was he lifeless? Oh my God, he wasn't moving, I needed to call the police, an ambulance ...someone!

Art shoved me into the passenger's seat of his vehicle, leaned over to put my seatbelt in and then slammed the door close. He got in to the driver's seat.

Art reached across and opened the glove box. He pulled out a small white first aid kit and turned to face me.

"Let me see," he said and gently tilted my chin toward him with two fingers.

He dabbed a cotton pad on my swollen cheek. It stung. I sucked in a sharp breath and furrowed my eyebrows at him.

"Why the hell did you let him touch you like that Red?" he asked while he kept cleaning the spot carefully. "You should have walked out the second he got aggressive. Seriously what were you thinking?"

"He never did anything like that before okay," I said softly. "He was just really stressed and I kept ignoring his texts about the marriage. I pushed him too far I think."

Art shook his head slowly. He pressed a bandage over the spot and closed the kit.

"I changed my mind," he said looking straight into my eyes. "I'll take your offer, I'll be your husband on paper," he stared right into my soul's before adding, "and the wedding will happen tomorrow."