Connor’s voice is ultra-sexy as she shoves a bewildered Zac into the room. “You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?”

I stare at Zac, feeling like my whole world is coming to a crashing, volcanic end.

Then Zac sees me.

All I see is fury. Hatred, loathing, and maybe a hint of murder. Not because he loves me; he knows what he stands to lose if I walk away. Holy fuck, why do I feel like he was waiting to marry me to kill me and take my family money for himself?

No way. That kind of shit only happens in those Dateline shows. Not in real life, not to people like me. I mean, those people are the unlucky ones. I can in no way, shape or form call my life unlucky.

And, with Connor holding him by that stupid blue plaid shirt I hate, Zac tries to lunge at me. Connor is quick to shove him into the chair in the middle of the room. It’s kind of funny to see someone finally show Zac he’s not some big strong man’s man just because he can almost grow a big boy beard.

“What the fuck, Jane?” he yells at me, his voice sounding like an angry little girl who’s older brother stole her favorite Barbie. I can almost imagine him turning his head to the side to scream, I’m telling mom! before stomping off. Though he’s more likely to tattle to my father.

He tries to get up, but Connor drops an imposing hand on his shoulder and shoves him back down like he’s a sack of potatoes.

Zac, not getting a rise out of me looks up at Connor. “You’re fucking my fiancé,” he says to an unimpressed Connor.

Connor doesn’t even bat an eye. Instead of denying like some white knight hero stepping up to bat for me, he totally blows off the allegation and continues to glare at Zac. Which makes his claim seem like the stupidest thing he’s ever said. It’s almost an art how Connor manipulates people.

I wonder if half my attraction to him is how he’s manipulating me?

No way. That heat I feel at his very voice started before he ever even knew I existed. While it’s weird, perhaps, to be so deeply turned on by a voice, maybe that’s my thing. I don’t know. I’m twenty two. Maybe I’ve got a voice fetish and he’s the first guy with just the right voice that I’ve met.

As Zac stares at me, I wonder why the hell I ever wasted my time with him. He’s such a child. This isn’t the first time he’s thrown a temper tantrum when he didn’t get what he wanted.

As if reading my mind, Zac tries to get up again. And again, Connor’s hand pushes him down without any seeming effort. It’s amazing how Connor seems almost bored, as if this guy is such a non-threat that he’s not even really paying attention.

Zac seems to try push back. But Connor isn’t having it.

“You’re not in charge here,” Connor says, his low, threatening voice sending a tickle of pleasure down my spine. Those words, that voice.. oh, my god. I’m going to have to wash this damn counter.

Zac, staring up at Connor, nods his head quickly; a frightened little flutter that makes me want to giggle.

As I watch Connor’s set shoulders, he looks up at me, those incredible eyes melting the core of me to a liquid, molten hot need. He’s so damn sexy, so in charge it’s both scary and sexy. But mostly sexy, I think.

“You should have fucking left,” Connor says to Zac, who’s staring up at him, his mouth open in what looks like slack-jaw stupidity.

“But since you didn’t,” Connor continues, every inch of him exuding power and control, “your girlfriend has something to tell you. Something you’re going to fucking listen to and respect.”

Connor leans toward Zac a little and my boyfriend cowers back. He glances at me out of the corner of his eyes and seems to decide it’s a good idea to act tough. He stretches a leg out before him and links the fingers of both hands and drop them in front of his other bent knee. He’s trying to look relaxed, but he looks like an idiot.

“I won’t tell you twice,” Connor says, and I try not to gulp back shock and more than a little excitement.

“It’s over.” The words burst from me and both men look my direction. Zac is dismayed, Connor seems amused.

Zac’s not stopping without a fight. “You won’t leave me. I’m going to be famous and you’ll forever hate yourself for leaving me.”

Not this argument again. “Zac, I wouldn’t love you even if you were famous.” I tell him wondering how a grown man could have such a stupid view of love and life. Does he really think that all it takes is fame to make everyone love you? That’s not love.

“No, you would have been the only one to love me before. But now you’ll forever be the girl who broke up with me and didn’t support my career.” Zac takes the path of trying to garner my pity. It has worked before, because of course I don’t want to be the bitch that doesn’t support his dreams and his career.

It doesn’t work this time. “It’s not your career if you’ve never made money doing it,” I say, as the words I’ve been holding in for too long, escape my mouth with ease and conviction.

“Do you really want to tell the world you dumped the next Shia LaBeouf?” He asks, his petulant face nearly driving me to laughter.

That’s really his aim? The top of the top for him is Shia? I want to tell him so badly to read the news and catch up on the latest events in the life of Shia. But I don’t. I’m tired of the fight, tired of his BS, tired of him not accepting that I’m breaking up with him.

“It’s over. Good luck in your acting career. I’m sure the world will love you,” I say, feeling defeated.