Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
This is my last night of work before the race in a few days.
A part of me wonders why I’m putting myself through this torture, given everything that’s happened, but I wanted to step outside the narrow box I’ve made of my life, and I will finish the race if it kills me.
To prove I’m strong enough physically, emotionally.
On that thought, I dump three hot cocoa packets in my coffee.
I need the extra sugar to get me through the night.
Without the celebrity tournament and its amped-up energy, the lounge is dead.
I’ve wondered if Maryanne sticks me here to keep an eye on me—as if it’s better to keep the crying, passing-out chick off the main floor.
Most waitresses get a choice of slots or lounge, but no matter how many times I request slots, I’m stuck here.
Drake may also be to blame.
For whatever reason, Drake frequents the lounge, and it’s possible he’s making sure they station me here.
The lounge is less busy, with fewer prying eyes.
Not that prying eyes stopped him in the past, but he seems to put some thought into selecting a location to harass women.
Darkened corners, the privacy of suites…
I can’t wait to switch shifts. There’s gotta be one he doesn’t work.
Sallee Construction guys mill around the floor this evening, which makes me think of Lewis, not that he wasn’t already constantly on my mind.
I made the right decision to confront him about Mira.
It’s done. I told him I needed more and he didn’t say anything.
He walked away. Most of the time I don’t regret my words.
I love him, but if I’m giving all of myself, I deserve all of him in return.
The rest of the time, I feel like my insides are slowly dying.
It’s only been a day since we spoke in the middle of the night, but that conversation felt final. Obviously he can’t give me more. If I had stayed with Lewis, his relationship with Mira would have either slowly ruined what we have together or it would have broken me.
I didn’t realize until I met him how little I gave of myself.
It wasn’t until the walls and distance evaporated, broken down by other passions, that things became clear.
No one had a chance before Lewis. I was myself with him, the good, the bad, the parts most tender—leave that stuff out there in a three-person relationship and it’ll get crushed.
Cali says I’m acting like a nut, throwing the relationship away.
She doesn’t get it. Whatever Lewis and I shared, nothing will surpass his commitment to Mira.
Morally, it’s different than my ex having a girlfriend back home, but it feels the same.
Lewis is distant and distracted, and like I told him, I can’t do this. Not with him. I care too much.
I may have been na?ve in the past and discovered too late that I wasn’t the priority I thought I was to some guy, but this is the first time I’ve considered sticking around regardless.
Just to be with Lewis. Just to be a part of his life.
It’s totally screwed up. I have to force myself not to call him.
Thinking of him is the worst torture, so I’m trying not to, but the bright yellow construction shirts aren’t helping.
The workers are repairing electrical outlets, or some such; I’m not really sure.
If I wasn’t so tuned in to the name of the company, I might not have noticed.
Despite the eye-catching color of their attire, the workers have been stealthy, staying out of the way of customers and keeping a low profile.
They arrived a couple of hours before the end of my shift, when the casino is less busy.
I haven’t seen Lewis among them. He’s not one of the manual labor guys, but that hasn’t prevented me from searching for him.
Huffing out a pained sigh, I rearrange the bills in my caddy, annoyed with myself.
The bartender glances up. “Someone here for you.” He turns and unloads a rack of clean glasses from the dishwasher.
I stuff the cash in my tray and turn to help the customer. My shoulders stiffen.
Drake’s gaze flickers around the room, as if to confirm it’s deserted.
Why haven’t I followed up on the harassment complaint, or gone to the police?
Right—because there’s been a lot going on lately. Cali almost died, I found out I had a father, and I lost my boyfriend, all in the last week. Life has been utter chaos.
I’m not sure how to read Drake’s expression; calculating, smug—not good, that’s all I know. I hate working with Amber, but I almost wish she were here tonight.
I peer across the room, but Maryanne’s not at her station either. Is she on break? Dammit.
I take a deep breath. I don’t need someone to rescue me.
I can deal with this. I’ve proven my strength during training and by not reaching out to Lewis when every cell in my body insists on it.
It’s late, but there are people and security guards about.
As long as I stay within view, I should be safe.
“Genevieve. Alone at last.” Drake’s gaze falls to my shorts. He’s staring as if reliving the time he touched me where no man is allowed to touch a woman without permission. His mouth pulls into a half-grin.
I might hurl, or strike him. “What do you want?”
He tsks. “Is that any way to address your boss?”
He’s not my boss. He knows this. Drake’s position is well above mine. Maryanne supervises me. “Leave me alone, Drake.”
His eyes narrow. “Don’t be difficult. I spoke to the bartender.” What’s he talking about? The bartender was with me when Drake walked up. “It’s a slow night. I only need you upstairs for twenty, maybe thirty minutes. This won’t take long.”
Despite the positive affirmations I tell myself about my strength and my ability to handle personal battles, a cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck. “No.”
Drake inches forward, crowding me until his chest nearly bumps mine. “I’m in control here,” he growls, and grabs my upper arm, squeezing.
I wince and glance around. The bartender has disappeared. He was here a minute ago. Where the hell did he go?
Drake’s grip feels like a metal clamp, his fingers overlapping my limb. Squirming only increases the pain. He’s going to pop a major artery if he doesn’t loosen his hold. It doesn’t help that my arms are thin—always the weakest part of my body, no matter how much muscle I build.
“You’re coming.” He tugs me to the rear exit.
I glimpse the bartender returning, smiling at a customer at the far end of the counter. He’s not looking my way. I call to him, “Crai—” but my voice cuts off on a whimper.
Hot breath burns my ear. “Do it—” Drake shakes me.
“He’s in my pocket. They all are.” My fingers go numb and I close my eyes against the pain.
I’m convinced he’s ripped something important.
Drake sighs through his nose. “I only want to talk to you. I won’t take you upstairs, deal?
You know I can’t do anything fun down here. ”
Can’t he? I don’t trust him. What is it they say—never negotiate with terrorists? Does the same rule apply to abusive assholes?
Yes. I drop my tray and pull at his fingers. He tightens his hold on my arm and white dots burst behind my eyes as he jerks me past the exit.
We’re in an interior hallway used by employees, and Drake makes the mistake of loosening his fingers long enough for me to gather my senses. “Let go!” I yell.
A passing busboy’s gaze darts to me, then Drake. He glances quickly away and exits through a swinging door.
What? I understand why management would support Drake and tuck the harassment claim under the rug. Drake is management. But the workers I rub shoulders with—what the hell? Suddenly, allowing Drake to drag me to a less crowded area, potential broken arm or not, seems like a very bad idea.
He lets go of my arm, crowding me against the wall. There’s no feeling in my fingers, not even a rush of heat to show he released me. His eyes are dark, his pupils large. “I love it when you fight. Please, don’t stop. It makes it so much better.”
Fuck! I dart to the side and he grabs me around the waist so tight I can barely breathe.
Just like in elementary school when the bully girl picked on me for being quiet, I drop to the floor and go limp. This reaction is all lower brain, and totally ineffectual. The bully would pick me up and toss me around the playground like a rag doll. It never worked then.
It doesn’t work now.
Drake lifts me, and before I can blink or scream, he shoves me through the wall behind my shoulders, which I realize now is a door. I land on my hip, a sharp pain shooting down my leg. The light disappears with the slamming of the door.
A second later, he’s on me, pinning my hands to the cold floor.
“Get off!” I jerk my knee hard, aiming blindly for the part that’s most vulnerable. He blocks me as if expecting the move and grips both of my wrists in one hand. He covers my mouth and nose with his free one, a large ring cutting into my lip.
I can’t breathe.
He’s going to kill me.
I buck and rip my head back and forth to force his hand free.
“Shhh, I like the fight, but not the noise. Quiet and I’ll let you breathe.”
I stop squirming, because survival seems paramount. He uncovers my face and I gasp in air.
Grip firming painfully on my wrists, he pulls me up halfway and flips on the light then locks the door. “I prefer the rooms upstairs, but we can do this here.”
“No!” I try to knee him again. “Help! Help!” What have I done? How can this be happening?
He grabs my throat and pushes me to the ground. “I said, shut up. Don’t be stupid, Genevieve. No one can hear you. The casino is built for noise control. Every room is insulated, even storage areas.”
I thought I was being careful. He didn’t take me upstairs, but he didn’t need to.
“Keep your voice down and I’ll be quick.” He fumbles with his pants.