*Bawdy's POV*

"Hello," I say hoarsely.

"Finally! Bawdy, where have you been?"

"At the hospital waiting for Gianna."

"We have a bit of damage control to do. I'm going to need a statement from you to put out. The sooner the better. I can pick you up, and we can sort this all out."

When is there not damage to control? But, I do get it. I might know now that she's okay, or at least she's going to be. Although I'm not sure if I'll be okay if she wants nothing to do with me.

Better to let anyone else who is worried know that it was an accident and that she's alive. "Sure," I say while rubbing my eyes.

I let Chelsea know what hospital I'm at, and she picks me up within 30 minutes. I hate how chipper she is in the morning. She must have chugged two coffees on the way with how hyper she's being. I get into the limo (my limo, which she apparently decided to use), and she immediately shoves her iPad towards me.

"I'm not even going to get started with you about how this girl is now adding more trouble to your career," she starts to say. She should be best friends with Gianna's parents. Seems like everyone is hating us together right now. "I drafted up a few statements to explain what happened last night. Read them over, and we can talk about any edits."

It's crazy how when something horrible happens, the first thing that publicists think about doing are making statements online. In this case, at least I can let everyone know that Gianna is fine, but it just feels stupid. I should be by her bedside, not making a fucking Instagram story updating the world about an accident. Unfortunately, this is the type of world that we live in.

I start reading through the different renditions and also take a look at some posts that are already being made about last night. Most of these people weren't even fucking there. They shouldn't be commenting on the situation. Sometimes I really hate how our world works nowadays.

My phone dings from a text, and I quickly divert my attention to it. I really thought that it could be Gianna. It's just from my guitar player asking how Gianna is.

I look back up at the iPad to finish reading this shit. To my confusion, I see a text notification popped up. It's the text that Jason just sent me.

Now I know that I'm sleep deprived, but I don't think I'm at the point of hallucinating. I click on the text, and it opens to my message thread with Jason. Mine and Jason's fucking messages to one another are on Chelsea's iPad.

I know it's hers and not one of mine, because it's in an ugly ass fake snake skin print case. Looking a bit more, I realize that all of my messages are on this iPad. Every single conversation that I've been having recently.

I grip the iPad harder. I'm not going to react outwardly until I can actually figure out what is going on. This bitch better not have all of my pictures on here too. Going to the photos app, I feel a bit relieved that all my shit isn't there. Looks like she just has my messages. And screenshots of messages.

Are these her favorite fucking ones are something? I feel disgusted. Sadly, I'm use to my privacy being violated, but it's never happened on this level and from someone on the inside. She has screenshots of me sexting Gianna. Taking from me is one thing, but taking her privacy is what angers me even more.

She even has saved some photos that I've sent people. She even has my nude that got leaked saved. Although, I guess that could be considered for publicity issues.

I flip around the iPad and show her. Her eyes widen. "Is that trending again?" She asks. I catch the light shake in her voice on the last word.

"Cut the crap, Chelsea." I'm not beating around the bush with this one. "It's in your camera roll."

She stutters. "Well, of course I have screenshots of any issues-"

"You have this picture saved from almost a year ago." I cut her off. "Care you explain why you had it before it was leaked?"

"It must have just saved weird," she starts to say. She's a pathetic liar.

"It accidentally saved along with screenshots of my conversations and accidentally logged into my messages?"

She tries to find the right words. Jokes on her. There are no right words to say to me right now. She tries to reach for the iPad, but I pull it away from her.

"That's just for scheduling purposes, and, um, I just need to keep you in check. It's my job." She pauses. "And I care about you."

"Your job is not to steal my personal messages or stalk me. You leaked the photo didn't you? What other shit have you done to me?"

"It's just- "

"Do not fucking lie to me," I growl at her. This is one of those times that I will use my size and look as intimidation towards a woman. At this time, she's not even a woman to me. She's a leech.

"Well, yes..."

"Fuck you, Chelsea."

"Please, Bawdy." She starts to try to explain. Does she really think that she's going to talk her way out of this? "I just needed to keep up your image of being a player. You weren't making it easy running around with that girl everywhere."

"You do not tell me how to live my life!" I yell at her. She shrivels back into her seat. "And don't every refer to my Gianna as 'that girl.'" Although it's not like I'm going to keep her around any longer than this car ride to be able to speak to in the future.

"I've never seen you get so worked up over someone before." Of course not. I've never loved someone before. At this point, I'm going to burn her entire career. Let's see how much more stupidity she's going to give me. "I just don't think that she's who you are supposed to be with. She doesn't know you like I do." This bitch should really learn to shut her mouth. "You can't deny that we have something between each other."

"What the fuck are you going on about?" I respond, annoyed. "The only thing that's going to be between us is a termination letter."

She moves closer towards me and puts her hand on her thigh. "I think we'd be perfect together." She starts to move her hand up my thigh. "Leave her for me."

Her hand is nearing in on my dick, and I swear she's leaning in for a kiss. I swat away her hand and push her back. "Fuck off, Chelsea." So this is why she didn't think that Gianna was good for my image. It's because she wanted me instead.

I knock on the separator between us and the driver. "Stop here," I say sharply. We're getting closer to my place and already got off the highway. I open the door of the limo once we're stopped. "Get out or I'll throw you out." I can't stand to look at Chelsea any longer.

"You can't be serious," she says looking down to her stiletto heels and outside at the rain that has started.

"Dead," I say, meeting her eyes and immediately being disgusted.

That seemed to scare her. She should know more than anyone else how easily I can snap on someone if needed. That surely would make a great headline: Bawdy beats up past publicist.

She starts to move towards the door, grabbing her things and the iPad.

"Give me your phone and iPad. I paid for those. They're mine."

"You can't just leave me there with nothing," she whines.

"Get the fuck out. Would you rather be taken away to jail, because I'd make it happen." I grab the phone and iPad. Who knows what she has about me on her phone.

Chelsea reluctantly steps out of the limo, and I slam the door in her face. She tried to say something, but I couldn't care less.

All I care about right now is Gianna, but apparently she doesn't care about me any more.