23. Margot
Chapter 23
Margot
T he pulsating bass of the music vibrates through the air. Bodies surround me on the dance floor of Aces, pressed together and moving as one in a tantalizing and hypnotic rhythm. Strobe lights flicker, painting the scene in electric blue and white flashes.
Cece and Reagan are somewhere ahead of me and a stranger's hands grip my hips, their hold impersonal as I move to the beat of the music. With my eyes closed, I allow myself to forget everything that’s happened over the last couple of weeks.
At least until something dark hovers in front of me, an unwelcome presence, forcing me to open my eyes. I don’t stop dancing as I stare at the six-foot-five wall of muscle standing in front of me. Lights flash behind him, but I can still make out the scowl etched into his features. My stomach clenches at the menacing sight.
He leans forward a fraction, shouting to be heard over the music. “Mrs. Marino, you need to come with me.”
Something about the way he says it, with anger layered beneath a command, sets me on edge. My gut twists, dread and doubt swirling in my chest. Massimo might be controlling but he would never do something this public. Wouldn’t he? The truth is, I have no idea. This could be a ploy to kidnap me, or it could be Massimo’s way of getting me to leave. The reality is, I don’t know enough to judge it either way.
I stare at the man in front of me, categorizing his features. A tattoo snakes around his neck, and on the left side of his top lip, there’s a scar. He’s wearing a polo shirt that all the employees who work for Massimo in this club wear and looped over his ear is the earpiece I’ve seen on the staff. It calms the sense of unease that washed through me when he first appeared.
Folding my arms over my chest, I narrow my eyes and stop dancing. Tilting my head, I reply, “If he sent you, tell him that I’m not leaving yet.”
Either he doesn’t hear me, or he’s purposely ignoring me, because he steps back, waving his arm in front of himself. A bead of unease seeps into my stomach, but I blow out a breath, shaking it off.
Rolling my eyes, I turn away, intent on heading back to the VIP area and enjoying the rest of my night. If he won’t tell Massimo, I’ll make sure he gets the message myself.
A large hand wraps around my arm, pulling me back. The abrupt movement causes my ankle to roll in my six-inch heels. My eyes widen, darting around the sea of people in front of me, searching for Reagan and Cece or anyone . Panic claws at my throat, and when I open my mouth to scream for help, nothing comes out.
As if I weigh nothing, the guy drags me across the dance floor, the club-goers around us continuing to party and oblivious to what is happening to me. Hell, I don’t know what is happening to me.
We’re heading for the corridor that I know leads to Massimo’s office, his grip tight and painful on my arm as he marches forward, ignoring our mismatched strides.
I pull back, digging my heels in with desperation fueling me. He’s too strong . We enter the dark corridor I walked down days ago and it doesn’t escape me how different I feel now, with panic and fear clawing at my skin, than I did then.
When we reach the door that leads to the steps for the second floor, he pushes it open before shoving me across the threshold. I falter slightly, holding on to the banister just in front of me and turning to face the wall, keeping my back to him. As the door clicks shut, engulfing us in silence, he takes my arm, pulling me up the metal staircase.
“You’re making a mistake,” I urge, trying to reason with him. “Let me go, and we can forget this ever happened.”
He scoffs, opening the door when we reach the top step. “The only one making a mistake is you. Besides, I’m not going to have it on my head that the boss’s whore of a wife embarrassed him in his own fucking club.” He sneers, pushing me across the threshold.
I fall forward, slamming into the wall ahead of me from the force. Slowly, I turn to face him, lifting my chin as I push back the hair that’s fallen in front of my face. “And you think calling his wife a whore is going to do you any favors?”
His lip curls as he crowds me in, but I hold his gaze, refusing to cower. He bares his teeth in a snarl as he growls, “Who’s he going to believe, the loyal soldier or the woman he took because he likes shiny things? They call him the Crow for a reason.” He lifts my left hand, tilting his head as he tsks . “And she can’t even keep her wedding rings on.”
I have no retort. He’s right . Why would Massimo take my word over that of a ‘loyal’ man? And my rings aren’t on my finger; I shoved them into my purse on the drive here, wanting to pretend for a moment that my life was back to normal. Yanking my arm, he marches me toward the door at the end of the corridor.
“For the last time, let me go.” There’s no way I’m going to allow this Neanderthal to drag me to my husband like I’m some naughty child. “This is your last chance.”
“Or what? You’ll pull a gun out on me? Yeah, I’d like to see you try.” He laughs, the sound loud and mocking.
I narrow my eyes before lifting my hand and digging my nails into his arm, dragging them along his flesh and leaving bloody scratch marks in their wake. A triumphant smirk tugs at my lips when he releases me, air hissing from his mouth, and I lift my chin, aiming it at him. That’ll teach him to fuck with me.
His hand flies up, the sharp crack of his palm connecting with my cheek echoing in the corridor. My vision blurs as my head snaps sideways, and I slam into the wall, smacking my temple against the cold plaster. Pain explodes across my face, and I gasp for air as I struggle to stay upright. My mouth fills with a metallic taste and tears burn in my eyes.
“Stupid bitch,” he snarls, taking hold of my arm and dragging me in the direction of Massimo’s office.
My head swims, the pounding behind my eyes so intense it feels like a drumbeat. Did that really just happen? He fucking hit me. Hard. I blow out a shaky breath, blinking slowly as I try to process the interaction.
“You only have yourself to blame,” he mutters, shaking his head.
When we reach the office, the door is opened by one of the men on guard. He nods to my assailant and I’m ushered inside. The man’s grip doesn’t waver, as if this is a normal way to treat a person. I guess in their world, it is .
Massimo lifts his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine, along with those of everyone else in the room. I don’t know what he must see, but if the way his gaze narrows and the vein in his temple pulses is any indication, he’s furious. His attention shifts to the hand on my arm and I’m certain that if he could shoot lasers from his eyes, the man would be dead.
The room tilts, the voices around me muffled as if coming from underwater. My legs buckle slightly, but the iron grip on my arm keeps me from falling.
I think I need to lie down .