Chapter Twelve
I am fucked.
My head is light, the alcohol working through me, warming my blood and loosening my nerves but I’m struggling to stand up straight.
“Okay,” Willow holds me up in the bathroom, “No more wine for you.”
“What?” I slur, “Why not?”
“It’s three p.m. You didn’t eat any of your food and can barely stand up. I’m pulling the card, no more drinking.”
I pout, “Boo.”
She shakes her head, manipulating my body until I’m leaning on the counter so she can wash her hands before we exit the bathroom.
She has her arm around me as we make our way to the room still brimming with people, but she suddenly stops, pulling me to a halt with her.
“Water,” I tell her, “I need water.”
“Hold on!” She snaps. “Who is that?”
With blurry eyes, I search the space in front of us until I can just make out the shape of two people. Malakai stands outside of the room, with a woman.
A very pretty woman. In a red dress, her lips painted the same color. Strawberry blonde hair and a body to die for, yeah, this woman is a knockout. And she’s standing really close to Malakai, her hand on his chest.
“Bitch.” The word slips out before I can tell my tongue to stop, and I slap a hand over my lips. But too late, Malakai is staring at me, a frown tugging on his brows, and I have the strangest urge just to smooth out the crease that forms between them. He grips the woman’s wrist and tugs her hand off him before he stalks toward me, head cocked as if trying to keep my eyes since I’m tilting.
Strong arms band around me and I feel Willow let go, giving me to him. Traitor.
“Who’s she?” I ask, unable to stop myself.
“No one you need to worry about,” He hoists me up, his arm around my waist strong and firm but he turns us away from the hall and toward the stairs.
“Where are we going?” I ask, stumbling over my words.
“You’re going to bed.”
“No.” I dig my heels in.
“What do you mean, no?” He groans.
“I’m going back in there. We’re putting on a show.”
“No, you’re making a fool of yourself,” He snaps.
“Oh, fuck you too,” I snatch out of his arm and stomp toward the hall. But his arm is there again, dragging me back until my spine hits his chest.
“Olivia,” He warns.
“You’re not scary.” I tell him.
His laugh is like smooth whiskey, so deep and warm it sends a zap down my spine that then coils low and hot in my stomach. It’s the alcohol, I tell myself. It isn’t him.
“If it’s not fear making you shake, kitten, please enlighten me to what it is you’re feeling right now that is making your body tremble so badly.”
I flare my nostrils, dragging in air, trying to clear this fog out of my head. The wine was a bad idea, I should have been smarter, now my thoughts are lagging, and my body is betraying me.
I wiggle out of his hold, point my finger in his face and promptly do… nothing. I’ve got nothing right now. In a huff, I spin on my pretty strappy shoes and beeline for the hall, making it all the way to find Willow getting comfy in Sebastian’s lap.
“Hussy,” I grumble, “They’re the enemy!”
She rolls her eyes, “Drink your water.”
I snatch up the glass and down the whole thing, pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers. I need more.
The pitcher in the center of the table is empty and feeling more confident than earlier, I feel like I can make it across the room without falling flat on my face.
“Where are you going?” It’s Sebastian who asks the question.
Fingers wrapping around the handle of the pitcher, I shake it in his direction, “To get water. I’m on a wine ban.”
“I’ll go,” He offers, moving to pick Willow up off his lap.
“I’m good,” I point at him, “You stay.”
His brows twitch as I keep pointing my finger at him like he’s a dog and not a very real man, but he lets me go. Malakai has yet to reappear which is a blessing. Not sure I could have handled another second with him in this state, mainly because I can’t control my tongue and I’m not sure if I’m going to say something I’ll regret.
I make it to the bar that’s been set up, and drop the pitcher on the counter, blowing out a breath as I wait. A few people talk to me but I’m not focusing enough to remember any names or anything they’ve said and when I get the water, I turn back to the table only to be doused in a cold liquid.
I suck in a shocked breath, the pitcher of water falling from my hand and smashing on the floor, scattering ice cubes and soaking the end of my dress in ice cold water.
And when I look up, I see the same woman who was in the hall with Malakai.
“Oops,” She gasps in mock horror, the grin tugging up the side of her mouth making it very clear she just did that on purpose.
Red wine is seeping through the thin silky material of my dress, soaking my skin beneath it and blooming as it grows across my abdomen. It’s macabre, the deep crimson stain on a white gown, spreading and growing and all I can do is stand there and watch it happen.
Everyone is staring.
The woman is just standing there.
Behind her I can see Sebastian moving toward me, this big bear of a man shoving people out of his way as Willow stares on in horror.
But it isn’t Sebastian that gets to me first.
It’s Malakai.
“What the fuck are you doing?” He growls, his anger palpable, thickening the air around us.
“I– I–” I stutter out my words, my eyes on the growing stain. The dress is ruined. They’ll be no saving it and everyone saw her do it, but no one is helping.
It seems ridiculous to cry over it. I’m blaming the alcohol for the sting of tears I feel welling up in my eyes.
“Not you,” He softens as he speaks to me, “You!” He points to the woman. “Get her the fuck out of here. Now!”
There’s a sudden flurry of movement as several large bodies move in.
“Mal,” She says sweetly, “It was an accident. She’s drunk, she wasn’t looking where she was going.”
“Bullshit,” Sebastian is here, and he’s glaring. Oh shit, he’s scary, like terrifying. He looks like he wants to rip her apart and throw away the pieces.
“Get her the fuck out of here.” Malakai orders, the voice coming from him right now not one I’ve heard him use. This is the real him. Not the pretend pieces he’s given me these last few days, this man right here is the devil in the flesh, and I’m frozen in his orbit.
People move at his word, they cower and bow, at his every beck and call.
“Olivia,” He speaks so gently to me in comparison to the way he just commanded the room, “Darling?”
“My dress,” Is all I manage to squeak.
I can feel myself flushing hot all over, embarrassment making me want to curl up into myself with everyone still watching.
“Breathe,” Malakai whispers, hands up as he steps toward me, like he’s soothing a frightened animal.
Don’t cry, I tell myself. Don’t embarrass yourself further.
“Olivia,” Malakai says my name again. My vision swims as I bounce my eyes back to him, frantically shaking my head. The dress is sticking to me now, my skin soaked and cold, chasing goose bumps over my body.
“I’ve got you,” Is all he says before arms are swooping beneath me, taking out my legs before another cradles me beneath my spine. I don’t even have it in me to fight, I just want to hide. I can fight him all I want but with hundreds of eyes on me, whispering, gossiping, I can’t help but feel like a frightened little girl.
I’ve been in a position like this before, granted it was much worse than this but all those feelings flood back, the humiliation, the way everyone stared…
I bury my face to hide from their eyes as he carries me from the room, sure, strong steps away from the masses. And he doesn’t stop until we’re closed away in a bedroom, the noise blocked out, the warmth of the room fighting to take the chill off my skin. He gently places me down, helping to lower me onto a soft, plush seat.
“Wait here.” He orders gently. I watch his feet walk away from me, the soles sinking into the carpet. If I wasn’t so drunk, I might have fought him about coming into his bedroom, but I’m tired. I’m wet. I’m humiliated.
I hear the shower turn on a moment later and then Malakai is back and he’s kneeling in front of me. My lips pop open in an O shape as he lifts my foot to rest it against his muscled thigh, pushing the dress up enough to get to the straps holding the heels to my feet. He removes one, gently placing my foot back onto the carpet before he lifts the other one, and once they’re both off, he helps me to stand.
“Can you undress yourself?” He asks.
I wince, “Yes.”
“I’ll get Willow for you.”
But I shake my head, “No. Don’t. I just…”
He nods, understanding, stepping out of the way to give me a clear path to the bathroom. Steam rolls out of the open door and I beeline for it, shutting myself inside as I press my spine up against the wood.
A mirror sits before me, and while it’s fogged up in here, it’s clear enough to see the huge red wine stain on the front of my dress, and the dark strands of hair at the sides of my head that stick out messily.
I look awful.
Reaching behind me I manage to fiddle with the buttons to loosen the dress enough I can slip the straps off my shoulders and let the dress slide down my body. Droplets of red wine stick to my skin and even the top section of my new underwear is stained red.
Shaking my head, I slide out of them, dumping them on the ruined dress and climb under the hot spray of the shower. My fingers work through my hair, pulling the little flower pins from the tresses, releasing them from their hold and the pins make a little ting noise as they hit the floor at my feet. I scrub my face free of makeup and shampoo my hair, and then I turn my face to the wall and just exist.
I let the water run over me, soaking my hair to my head, let the water catch in my lashes and in my lips and I just stand there and breathe.
Overwhelmed.
Overstimulated.
There was too much going on too quickly that I couldn’t keep up with it.
But here, I can breathe. The sound of the water on the tile is loud, it drowns out my thoughts, washes away most of the effects of the alcohol though I still feel buzzed. And nauseous.
I am going to have a serious hangover in the morning.
For a few more minutes, I let the water cleanse me before I reach for the button and switch off the water. I wrap a heated towel around me as I step from the shower but freeze on the bathmat as I realize the ruined dress and panties are gone from the bathroom floor.
I didn’t hear anyone come in at all.
Swallowing, I tiptoe to the door, opening it as quietly as I can to peer out into the bedroom.
It’s dim in there now, the main light switched off in favor of the two lamps at the bedsides and a fire is going in the hearth, smaller than the ones in the rest of the house but it’s warm and cozy and drags exhaustion to the front of my mind.
My feet leave wet prints on the carpet as I head to the pile of clothes waiting on the end of the bed.
They’re my pajamas, a long sleeve shirt and flannel pants combo and I quickly dry to get into them, wanting that familiar feel of my clothes against my skin. I don’t bother drying my hair, just choosing to give it a towel dry and look at the mammoth bed.
I should go to my room, get into the bed I’ve been sleeping in for the past couple days but this one looks so inviting.
I climb onto the mattress, sinking into it and when my head hits the pillow a sigh leaves me. I’m wrapped in his scent, it lingers in the sheets and despite knowing better, I drag them to my nose, smelling that masculine fragrance that warms something inside of me.
Before I know it, sleep is claiming me, sinking me into a slumber not even the devil himself could wake me from.