8. Chapter Eight #2
My lips curl into a snarl at the mention of my father. “I hope he fucking is. Now. Let. Me. Go.”
Just as I’m pulling away, his grip on my hand turns bruising. He pulls me in closer, like a child hoarding their favorite toy. His eyes aren’t on me anymore though, and I can’t figure out what the hell is happening because every cell in my brain has exploded from panic.
“You’ll pay for—“ He pauses, his mouth snapping shut.
Fabric bristles against the backs of my bare arms, warmth radiating into my backside through my dress. It’s a welcome sensation, a stark contrast to the ice in my veins.
The memory of Lynx standing behind me at the club while that douchebag Calvin was getting carried away flashes behind my eyelids.
“May I help you?” Rhys asks whoever is towering over me from behind. His question comes out mostly polite, but I don’t miss the hint of irritation sharpening his tone.
“I’d like this dance,” a deep, familiar voice says. “With my fiancée,” he tacks on sharply.
On that note, I spin around to find Mr. Tall, Dark, and Deadly gazing down at me. Behind his simple black mask, his blue eyes are dangerously deep, his jaw tight and ticking. He seems angry. Like he could burn the entire world down with the snap of his fingers.
But damn it, he looks downright delectable, dressed in a well-tailored black suit with a crisp black dress shirt and stark white bow tie. His dark hair is styled in a relaxed kind of way. Polished but not pretentious.
“Pretty girl,” he says, staring down at me the way he did that night he scared off Calvin—with searing intensity, a hint of irritation, and something else I refuse to label. “I’ve been searching high and low for you.”
Narrowing my eyes on him, I decide to play along with his charade and see where this goes.
Besides, what choice do I have but pivot and adjust?
“Fiancée,” Rhys says bitterly from behind me. I glance over my shoulder to find his eyes darting between me and Lynx. When they settle on me, his expression falters. His tone turns sour. “My apologies. I was under the impression you were here alone. It was a pleasure meeting you, Sarah.”
He tips his chin respectfully and saunters off in the other direction. It takes him two point seven seconds to locate another woman at the bar and take a seat beside her.
Meanwhile, my feet remain firmly rooted to the polished marble floor as blinding rage swirls in the pit of my stomach.
“Fiancée?” I screech at Lynx, my outburst earning me some looks. Clearing my throat, I lower my tone. “Are you insane? Do you have any idea what you just did?”
“I do,” he responds plainly, not bothering to wait for consent before snatching my hand in his much larger one and pulling me close. The movement is abrupt and causes my breath to hitch. A giant, warm paw rests on my lower back as he leads us into a smooth waltz.
And goddamn him for being a good dancer.
“You’re coiled tighter than a snake ready to strike.” He peers down at me. “Relax, Harlow. Enjoy yourself a little.”
“I’ll relax when you fuck off,” I murmur. “I’m on the job here. And you’re ruining it.”
He spins us so my back is to a cluster of vacant tables and playfully swats my ass.
I gasp and glower up at him. “There are people around.”
The corner of his mouth tips up into a grin.
“Your point?”
“My point is that you’re leading them to believe we’re an item.”
A deep chuckle vibrates from his chest. It travels all the way down to the throbbing space between my legs.
Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
Breathe.
“I don’t enjoy being manhandled,” I murmur.
“Yes, you do,” he counters.
“Pfft. About as much as I like a bullet in the head.”
He stares down at me with a tortured look marring his face. When I attempt to pull away, he tightens his grip and lowers his mouth to my ear.
“Keep playing games like this Harlow, and that’s exactly what you’ll get.”
Panic. Loads and loads of panic. It rushes in like a tidal wave.
I knew he was psycho. But to threaten to kill me …
“Breathe through it,” he tells me, his baritone voice as smooth as silk.
Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
Breathe.
“You good?”
I nod, keeping my mouth shut and following his lead.
When he spins us so that I have a view of the bar, anger and fear creep up like a bad weed.
The woman Rhys seated himself with is nowhere to be seen. In her place is Sage and her friend, Trinity. He’s leaning in. They’re laughing.
No.
This can’t be happening.
I watch in horror as Rhys stands to his full height and smiles. Both women giggle and nod. And just like that, the three of them saunter off toward the door.
I have to do something. I have to save them from what’s about to be the worst night of their lives.
He’ll hurt them. He’ll rape them and beat them and then pay them to keep their mouths shut.
They’ll agree, of course, because he’ll threaten to kill them if they don’t.
They’ll sign a nondisclosure agreement in the morning, one carefully curated by one of Rhys’s fancy lawyers, and they’ll live the rest of their lives drowning in trauma.
They’ll never be the same. And Rhys will carry on as if nothing ever happened.
Lynx must sense my despair because he glances over at Rhys and the women.
“Something you’d like to tell me about that man, pretty girl?”
I consider it. I really, really do.
But then what?
“No,” I croak, my voice cracking beneath the weight of the situation.
He looks from me to Rhys and the women, then back to me again.
He comes to some sort of conclusion.
“Time for you to leave, Harlow. Go home.”
“I’m not leaving. Fuck you.”
“Don’t make me ask twice.”
I peel myself out of his grip and take a step back.
“Or what?”
“You don’t want to know the answer to that.”
I look over at Rhys again. He has his hand on Trinity’s lower back, guiding her toward the door. Sage is trailing slightly behind. She glances over her shoulder at me. There’s hesitation there.
That hesitation is my final glimmer of hope.
“Stop me and I’ll kill you,” I snarl, then storm toward the exit. “Sage. Wait,” I call out. She pauses and turns.
Rhys takes notice, glowering at me as he ushers Trinity out the door.
“You can’t leave with that man, Sage. He’s a horrible human being. A total asshole.”
She recoils. “He’s the head surgeon, Reb. He saves lives for a living. How could he possibly be horrible?”
“You need to trust me on this. Please, don’t leave with him.”
She considers my plea for a moment, studying my face for any hint of a lie. She’ll find none.
“Okay. Fine.” Her mood lightens. She pokes me playfully in the shoulder and waggles her brows. “But you owe me one doctor.”
Overwhelming relief swarms me. “Yes. Okay. Thank you. Now go get Trinity.”
Sage takes off toward the exit and disappears. When she returns a moment later, she’s still alone.
“They’re gone,” she tells me in a breathy tone. “They left without me. As if Trinity would do that to me.”
A lump forms in my throat. “They’re gone? Like … gone gone?”
“Like gone gone.”
“Jesus, Sage. That man is dangerous.”
“Dangerous? I thought when you said he was an asshole, you meant he ripped you off at the club or was rude or something.”
I resist the urge to grab her and shake her senseless.
“No, Sage. Like horrible. Like hurts women kind of horrible.”
“Oh my god. Reb, is he going to hurt Trin?” Her hand flies to her mouth. “What do we do?”
She begins to panic. I grab her arms and squeeze.
“Listen to me. Does Trinity have her phone on her?”
“I-I think so.”
“Call her. Now. Tell her she needs to fake an illness or something and get the hell away from him.”
“Okay.” She fumbles with her clutch and pulls her phone out, dialing Trinity’s number and putting the call on speaker. It rings several times before going to an automated voicemail. “No answer.” Her eyes begin to well with tears.
“Text her.”
She types out a text and hits send. I begin gnawing on my nails as we wait for a response that never comes.
“Damn it,” I hiss.
“Now what?”
“Call the cops.”
“And tell them what? That my friend, a consenting adult, left a party with a man?”
Fuck, she’s right. But we have to try.
“Call them anyway. If she’s not home by morning, file a missing person’s report.
” Sage’s lips press into a firm line, a spark of determination lighting in her eyes as she dials the local police station.
When she begins to speak, I touch her arm and shoot her a pleading look.
“One more thing. Don’t mention my name. Please. I was never here.”
Her brows furrow in confusion. But when I plead once more, she nods in understanding.
When she’s done explaining the situation to whoever’s on the other end of the line, she hangs up, completely defeated.
“They said there’s nothing they can do.”
“Keep calling her. If you get hold of her, text me.”
“I don’t have your number.”
“Right. Shit.”
I grab Sage’s phone, add my contact info, and hand it back to her. “Don’t give that number to anyone. Do you hear me? Not a soul.”
“Okay.”
I glance back at the ballroom, scanning the crowd of people for any signs of Lynx, a shiver racking my body when I realize he’s gone.
Ignoring the sudden flash of curiosity of where he went, I take off outside, not bothering to retrieve my coat on the way out. The second I’m through the doors, my overheated skin is blasted by the cool autumn air. But it does nothing to dampen the fire running rampant through my veins.
My heels clack on the sidewalk as I put as much space between me and the banquet hall as possible, flashbacks of Rhys’s disgusting hands on my body and his rancid breath on my skin plaguing my system.
And the ache between my legs that followed every time he visited me.
I walk until my feet are numb and blistered. Until my legs are sore and hands hot from the blood pumping through them.
And then I go home, curl up in bed, and pray to a god that doesn’t exist that Trinity makes it home unscathed.
Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
Breathe.