THIRTEEN
Gigi
Why is it that whenever my emotions start going haywire I find myself in another damn nightclub? I’m not on my own either. Mia took it upon herself to invite Harry and Andy.
She’s wandered off somewhere else again, leaving me alone, but I don’t have it in me to care anymore. The drinks are flowing a little too easily, and with each one I can feel my body loosening up and sinking into the feeling of intoxication. You’d have thought I’d be more cautious after what happened the last time I was in a club, but knowing Harry is somewhere in the building eases my concerns despite how much I wish it didn’t.
At the mere thought of him I chug down a few extra drinks for good measure. My footing is wonky as I make my way back to the dance floor, feeling the thump of the bass in my veins.
Someone approaches me from behind, and the warmth of their body relaxes my bones almost instantly. I lean into their front like an old friend, knowing they see me as nothing remotely close to that.
Mint and leather overflows my senses, adding to the sense of intoxication. A strong hand creeps up my stomach, over my chest, until their fingers spread across the length of my neck.
“You should really be careful …” Harry’s voice is quiet yet authoritative as he cups my jaw. “I could be a stranger trying to lure you down a dark alleyway.”
“But you’re not.”
He pushes his hips forwards, and something hard beneath his jeans presses against my ass. My stomach curdles with butterflies. I tilt my head back against his chest to embrace his touch before our spell breaks.
“I’m worse. You don’t have anyone to protect you from me.”
I’m breathless as I say, “You’d protect me.”
My body is like a magnet to his touch, and I press myself further against him in a desperate bid to ease the burning sensation in my core. My hand skates across the skin of his hand to encourage the demanding contact.
No man has ever touched me like this.
“You dancing like this is drawing a lot of attention.” Harry places a delicate kiss on my cheek, his breath fanning against my lips. “Do you really want to be the cause of an innocent man’s death?”
Maybe it’s the drink I’ve consumed, or perhaps I’m slightly insane, but the possessiveness and the threat of death makes me whimper with desire.
“Harry,” I plead, though I’m not sure what for.
After my name slips from his lips his entire body stiffens as if his mind just caught up with his words.
His hands fall from my body.
No, no, no.
“You should leave,” he says.
He steps away, and I stumble back from his lack of touch. Strung in my own emotions, I debate whether to follow him. There’s not enough time in the world to try to fix somebody else, but I simply can’t help myself with Harry.
Having made my mind up, I exit the club and stumble onto the street, intoxicated and in an outfit that’s definitely meant for a club’s dimly lit atmosphere. Thankfully, Harry is standing directly outside, leaning back against the wall with a cigarette dangling between his lips. As soon as he sees me, his expression shifts, and he disposes of the cigarette on the floor, stomping it with his foot.
Focusing on his shoe, he says, “Have a bit of mercy on me and leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Do you not remember what happened the last time you were outside a nightclub?” He finally looks up. “Or are you just really fucking stupid?”
The statement sobers me quickly.
“You protected me last time,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have done that. You’re not mine to protect.”
He’s trying to push my buttons. This isn’t him.
I shake my head and ask under my breath, “What is wrong with you?”
He scoffs. “You have no idea, baby.”
Finally losing my composure, I shout, “Stop calling me that! You keep calling me these stupid pet names. You need to stop messing with my feelings—”
“That’s your first mistake.” He takes a step forwards, pointing a finger at my face. “I’m not the kind of man who cares about feelings, Gigi. You need to leave me alone. You’re getting on my last nerve.”
Tears sting my eyes, threatening to spill.
“Have I done something wrong?” I ask, my voice almost breaking. “Is it the way I look?”
He retreats a step. “You’re fucking perfect, Gigi. Don’t think like that.”
“Then what is it?” I ask, a loose tear slipping down my cheek. “You only ever come near me when you’ve been drinking. It’s like you can’t even stand touching me. You struggle to look at me on a normal basis—”
“You slept in my bed! I’m the one who—”
“Because I was almost raped! For fuck’s sake, Harry, what is wrong with you?”
“Exactly! What is wrong with me? You don’t know half the story. And trust me, you don’t want to go down that road.”
“Then let me in!”
“NO!” he roars. “I can’t.”
Harry pants, heaving air into his lungs. Onlookers probably suspect we’re a couple arguing, but they’re so far from the truth it’s laughable. “I’m not arguing with you over this here.”
“Of course.” I nod slowly. “So then you’ll just go back to hating me tomorrow.”
Another beat of silence stretches between us. An odd mashup of sound comes from the low bass of club music, the signal of a traffic light, and a car racing past at an unnecessary speed. None of it is what I want to hear. I want to hear Harry scream that none of my accusations are true.
But actions speak louder than words, and we’re done talking.
I shake my head clear and start to walk past him towards the taxi rank.
He grabs my arm, stopping me. “Gigi …”
“Don’t worry, I’m going home. I’ll get a cab.” I pull myself from his grasp. “Does that make you happy?”
I walk forwards, barely making it a few steps before I slam into a figure standing directly in my path. I mumble an apology and try to step round them, but they conveniently step the same way.
“Is everything okay here, miss?” the man asks.
“Yes. We’re just having a conversation. I’m just leaving.”
I throw a look over my shoulder at Harry to show who I’m referring to and to signal an end to our visit, but my action slows when I see the panic rising in his eyes. His whole body has seized, his expression stone-cold. The fear is unmistakable, and not an emotion I get to see regularly. Turning round, I take in the man standing before me to see what’s left Harry’s so spooked.
He reeks of authority, misfortune, and … money. While it’s just shy of sunrise, this man is in a full business suit, not a crease in his attire and not a thread out of place. Even his handkerchief looks like it’s been recently pressed. He must be nearing sixty, which is evident through his salt-and-pepper hair. He’s no match for Harry’s height, so I’m not sure what he finds so intimidating.
“Is that true?” The man turns to Harry.
In my peripheral I notice his slow nod before he perks his shoulders, standing straighter.
“Completely,” I answer for him.
The man looks at me, cocking his head in intrigue.
“If you’ll excuse me, I was just heading home.” I bypass the stranger’s side and barely chance a second look at Harry as I scurry the other way, continuing on towards the taxi rank.
Who the fuck was that guy anyway? And what kind of business would involve wearing a full three-piece suit at this time in the morning …? At a nightclub of all places.
My questions will have to wait until the morning when I have a clearer head.
As I approach the taxi rank, all prior thoughts of my destination are occupied by rumbling hatred. And now, as I stand beside the line of vehicles, I don’t know where I’m going to go. I still haven’t spoken to my parents since the incident. I’m not rushing back to Greg anytime soon. So that only leaves me with Mia and having to pry her hands off Andy.
I turn on my heel and stomp back towards the club with tunnel vision, ready to retrieve my friend and get the hell out of here. Yet when I turn the corner and see Harry and the suited man talking in hushed voices, I scurry backwards and hide behind the brick wall, the buzz of nightlife only allowing me to hear snippets of their conversation.
“Is that true?”
“She was just leaving.”
“… be a problem … will it? ”
“No.”
“… she better … trusting you, Harry … your life … again …”
So they do know each other.
“Hey, stranger. I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” someone says.
I slap a hand over my heart, turning to Mia. Her exaggerated grin is far too telling of the amount of alcohol she’s drunk.
She tries peering over my shoulder. “What are we looking at?”
“Nothing,” I tell her quietly.
“It must be something,” she retaliates.
A part of me feels slightly defensive at the sight. But when I turn back, the man has disappeared. Harry’s standing there alone with his head bowed, muttering under his breath.
I turn back to Mia. “Let’s go.”
“Huh?” she asks, confused. “Why?”
“We’re not wanted here.”