Chapter 28
I stared at my empty glass. The lime and vodka stung my throat. I slammed it back. One defiant gulp.
The burn felt sharp, satisfying. Anger simmered in my chest. A fire fueled. By my talk with Rachel. On that sidewalk. Her words echoed. Like a battle cry. You did nothing wrong.
She was right. Alexander had no right. To snap at me. To treat me like a clueless kid. Who could not even tie her shoes. I was not his helper. His maid. Or his punching bag.
I was sick of his shadow. Looming over me. His control was a cage. I wanted to break free. Even if just for one night.
Rachel watched me. From across the sticky bar table. Her eyes gleamed with amusement. As she swirled ice. In her gin and tonic. The cubes clinked. Like a steady beat. She chuckled. Low and deep. Her smirk was sharp and knowing. "You are a loud drunk. You know that?"
I rolled my eyes. Tipping my head back. To chase the last drops. Clinging to my glass.
The world tilted slightly. A dizzying rush.
That made me laugh. Despite myself. "Like you are any better," I shot back.
My words slurred. Just enough to show it.
My elbow hit the table. I almost fell off the stool.
"You have flirted. With every guy. Who has walked past us.
Since we sat down. That bartender with tattoos?
The guy in the ugly plaid shirt? You are shameless, Rachel. "
She snickered. Taking a slow, careful sip. Her lips curled around the straw. With grace. Her red hair caught the neon lights. Like fire. "That has nothing to do with alcohol," she said. Smirking.
Her voice full of mischief. "It is just me. I am so bored. Always am. When I am stuck inside. Alexander has us both. Under his thumb. I am not built for cages, Elena. Neither are you."
I glared at her. Crossing my arms. Almost falling off the stool again.
Before catching myself. My laughter bubbled up.
Unbidden. Sharp and wild. "Sorry I am so boring," I mumbled.
Bitterness crept into my voice. The words slurred into a pout.
"Seems like everyone thinks that lately.
Me. The dull little nanny. Who cannot do anything right.
Just here to be controlled. And scolded. "
The room spun lazily around me. Neon lights from the bar signs. Blurred into pink and blue streaks. The music's bass thumped. Through the floor. Like a heartbeat. My head buzzed. A dull ache started. At my temples. A tiny voice whispered. In my mind.
Maybe. Maybe I had too many cocktails. It did not stop me. From waving the waitress over. With a sloppy hand. My arm flailed. Like a flag in the wind. "Another, please," I called. Ignoring Rachel's raised eyebrow. Her smirk warned me.
She scoffed. Leaning back in her chair. With a dramatic move.
Her leather jacket creaked. Her drink spilled a bit.
"I did not mean you, Elena. You are not the boring one.
I meant life in general. Alexander has us both.
Under his thumb. You have only dealt with his control.
For how long? Me? I have been dodging. His overprotective crap.
My whole life. Imagine trying to date. When your older brother.
Is watching. Threatening to break kneecaps.
If they look at you wrong. I once had a guy leave.
Mid-date. Because Alexander showed up. At the restaurant.
Just staring from the bar. Totally killed the mood. "
I blinked at her. The alcohol haze. Softened her words. Then I snorted. A half-laugh escaped. Before I could stop it.
The idea of Rachel. Sneaking dates past Alexander. Was too funny. "Oh my God," I said. Giggling. My shoulders shaking. As I leaned forward. Nearly knocking over my empty glass. "Did he actually break kneecaps? Or was it just a threat?"
She grinned. Her eyes gleamed with mischief. As she leaned in. Her voice dropped low. And secretive. "Let us just say. The guy learned to run. Really fast," she said. Winking.
And we both burst out laughing. The kind that shook my ribs. And made my eyes water. The room spun faster. As I clutched the table. For balance.
The waitress slid another cocktail my way. A bright pink drink. With a sugar rim. Its sweetness. A dangerous promise.
Rachel slapped crumpled bills. On the table. Without a word. Her way of helping. While I drank away my anger. She raised a brow. Her smirk warned me. "You are going to regret this. In the morning, lightweight."
I grinned. Defiance bubbled up. As I took a sip.
The sweet burn. Slid down my throat. My head buzzed.
With wild freedom. "Worth it," I said. Enjoying the moment.
The thrill of rebellion. Sharp and bright.
"Tonight, I am free. No rules. No Alexander.
No cages. Just me. You. And this stupid pink drink. "
Rachel laughed. Nudging me with her elbow. Hard enough to shake my drink. The liquid sloshed. "That is the spirit," she said.
Her tone full of approval. "So, tell me. What is it really like. Being with Alexander? Living in his house. In his world? Is it all dark stares. And rough orders. Or does he ever lighten up?"
My cheeks flared hot. I turned my head. Pretending to watch the crowd. Loud groups. Clinking beers.
A couple arguing. A guy in a cowboy hat. Trying to line dance. To a pop song. To avoid her gaze. "It is... intense," I mumbled. The word felt too small. For the whirlwind of control. Care. And chaos.
That was Alexander. My voice slurred into a laugh. "He is... he is Alexander. Storms and all. But sometimes. Sometimes he smiles. And it is like the sun comes out. And then he snaps. And I am back in the cage."
She laughed. Her elbow nudged me again. Her voice sharp and teasing. "I bet," she said. Her tone full of meaning. We both burst into giggles. The kind that shook my shoulders. And made my ribs ache.
The room spun faster. As I clutched her arm. For balance. "You know, I once caught him. Practicing that dark stare. In the mirror. When he was a teenager," she said. Grinning. "He thought it made him look tough. I told him he looked constipated."
I snorted. Nearly choking on my drink. The image of a teenage Alexander. Perfecting his glare. Was too absurd. "No way," I said. Laughing. My head tipped back. The room spinning faster. "You are lying."
"Swear on my life," she said. Raising her hand. Her smirk wide and wicked. "He threw a shoe at me. Missed, though. Terrible aim."
We laughed harder. The sound echoed through the bar. Drawing stares from the crowd. But I did not care. Rachel was a lifeline. Her sharp wit. And easy warmth. Opened me up.
I told her things. I had not dared to say. How Alexander's rare smiles. Lit me up. How his anger. Cut deeper. Than I wanted to admit. How I felt. Like a bird. In a fancy cage. She did not judge. Just listened. Her nods and sly comments. Coaxed me out. Her presence calmed me. Against the storm.
But the drinks kept coming. My balance started to fail. The room tilted. Like a funhouse.
When I tried to stand. For a bathroom trip. My legs wobbled. Like a newborn horse. My heels caught. On the sticky floor.
Rachel's hand shot out. Grabbing my arm. To steady me. As I swayed dangerously close. To the table's edge. My laughter turned into a yelp.
"Whoa, easy there, champ," she said. Laughing. As she pulled me upright. Her grip firm and steady. "I think you have had enough. Time to stop."
I nodded. A blush of embarrassment. Crept up my neck. As I clutched her arm. My head spinning faster. "Yeah, maybe you are right," I slurred. The words thick on my tongue. My laughter bubbled up again. "But you. You owe me a dance. We are not leaving. Till you dance. With cowboy hat guy."
She groaned. Rolling her eyes. But her smirk showed her amusement. "You are impossible," she said. Pulling me toward the door. Her arm slung around my shoulders.
As we walked through the crowd. Stumbling. Like two drunk friends. My laughter echoed through the bar. "Fine, but if he steps on my toes. You are buying breakfast."
Then, out of nowhere. A pair of strong arms. Wrapped around me. Catching me. As my knees buckled. Mid-step. The scent hit me first. Cedar and steel. Clearly him.
My stomach dropped. The buzz turned sour. Into a wave of shame. I twisted my head. My vision swimming. And there he was.
Alexander. His jaw set. His gray eyes narrowed. Into slits. Gleaming with fury and annoyance. Under the streetlights. His dark coat billowed slightly. In the wind. Making him look. Like an avenging spirit. Who had found me. Through the night. His power was strong.
"Uh-oh," Rachel mumbled. Her voice a mix of dread. And amusement. As she glanced up. Her arm still around me. Her smirk wavered. Under his glare.
I groaned. The thrill of my rebellion. Curdled into a knot of fear. As his grip tightened. Holding me steady. Against the storm. I knew was coming. "Elena," he said. His voice low and sharp. A warning. Wrapped in velvet.
His eyes locked on mine. Piercing through the alcohol haze. "What the hell are you doing?"
I was in trouble. Deep. Messy. Unavoidable trouble. The weight of his presence. His power. Crashed over me. Like a huge wave. The fun of the night. Faded. Under the shadow of his anger.