Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Dublin—12 years ago
The faces around her blurred, and Olivia felt a hand steady her when she stumbled into a group of men by the bar.
“Steady on girl,” a man’s voice laughed.
Olivia offered a weak smile back, but her stomach churned unpleasantly. What in the world made her think she could keep up with her flatmates and their friends? She should have stopped by the third round of shots that were handed around by the maid-of-honor, but Olivia had felt warm and happily buzzed, and she wanted to fit in.
She’d lost count after that, sipping on a Guinness that Eva—the bride-to-be who Olivia had met for the first time the evening before—insisted was essential on her first visit to Dublin.
This spontaneous trip was completely out of character for Olivia. But, with a week left before she was due back in Atlanta to start her first real grown-up job, she’d given in to her flatmate, Genna’s, enthusiasm.
The mini semester she’d attended at Oxford had wrapped up a few days before, and for the first time in her entire life, Olivia’s schedule was completely free. After years of working her ass off, always pushing herself to be number one at school and building her resume, her future was secure. What might be her dream job was waiting for her when she went home.
When her flatmates invited her to come with them to their friend Eva’s hen party in Dublin, Olivia thought, why not? Like Genna had pointed out, Olivia needed to experience more than just classes in romantic literature while she was there. And, a classic hen party was a must.
However, Olivia had seriously underestimated the women’s tolerance for alcohol. Now, as she was coming back from the bathroom, she was having a hard time spotting the group she was with. You’d think Eva’s giant, fluffy veil and the sash that spelled out brIDE in silver glitter would be easy to spot, even in a crowded pub. But, it seemed that during the time Olivia had spent in line, waiting for the bathroom, the crowd had doubled in size, and the live, folk music in the corner had ratcheted up the noise making it hard to think.
Shit! Olivia squinted, scanning the crowd for the telltale veil. There it was. Over by the back corner. She worked her way through the crowd, trying not to bump anyone’s drink, her black boots already sticking a bit to the floor.
Olivia successfully reached the group without an alcohol shower and leaned gratefully against the wood-paneled wall, happy to be on the outskirts of the raucous crowd. The only people she knew were her two flatmates, Genna and Amanda, and she’d only met them when she arrived in Oxford six weeks earlier.
The women had all been friendly when she’d met them at the airport, but Olivia was careful not to refer to any by name… because to be honest, they’d begun drinking on the plane, and Olivia wasn’t confident she remembered who was who.
The woman closest to her turned, her dark hair brushing Olivia’s arm. Olivia was standing way too close to her. Bright, blue eyeshadow highlighted her curious eyes. “All right there, luv?”
Pull it together. Don’t be the lightweight American, even if that is exactly what you are.
“Oh yeah. I’m great.” Olivia frowned and moved her tongue in her mouth. The words hadn’t sounded right, but the woman just chuckled and patted her on the arm and turned back to her friends. The floor swayed, and she bumped into the woman again. This time, her eyes were less friendly when they turned back.
Olivia licked her lips, and her eyes passed over the group that had, at some point, become a colored blur. Maybe she should go back to the hotel.
“Where’d Genna go?”
The woman frowned, and several of the other women were now looking at Olivia.
She cupped her hand to ear to hear Olivia better. “Who?”
“Genna.”
The dark-haired woman’s brows furrowed, but it was the blur in a large veil that leaned forward. “Did you lose her?”
Was Genna lost? Olivia tried to make her mouth form the words she wanted, but the room tipped sideways, and she stuck out a hand to catch herself.
“Whoa, lovey. What’s your name?”
The veil leaned close to Olivia’s face, coming suddenly into focus.
That’s not Eva. This bride has red hair.
Olivia’s cheeks burned hot, and she stumbled back.
“I’m so sorry. I should go.”
She felt a hand rub her back. “Did you lose your friends? Can you call them?”
The vague panic that had formed in her chest eased. “Yes. Good idea.” But when Olivia searched through her crossbody bag, her phone was nowhere in sight.
“It’s gone.”
The group exchanged glances. “How about we’ll have someone call you a cab?”
But Olivia’s moment of lucidity was sliding away again, and her stomach rolled. Was she going to throw up?
“Where are you staying?” a woman with a turquoise bob and heavy eyeliner asked.
Olivia pulled her room key out of her purse and held it up in front of her. Someone took it from her, and she felt the cold plastic of the card against her skin as someone tucked it past her high neckline and into her bra.
“Found your phone, luv.” The woman laughed, and Olivia reached up to pat her chest.
Yes, that’s right. She put her phone in her bra. “What’s your room number?” The voice was no nonsense, and Olivia responded without conscious thought.
“303.” Something cool brushed over her arm.
“What’s your name, doll?”
“Olivia Rose.” She gagged, the words slurring before she got her last name out. Why did she give them her full name?
The stroking on her arm moved faster before the hand holding her forearm let go. “There you go, Rose.”
“Excuse me,” Olivia sprinted for the bathrooms, the line thankfully gone.
After getting sick, Olivia splashed water on her face, holding her cheeks and trying to make her face come into focus in the tiny mirror. She slumped against the wall and closed her eyes. Thumping on the outer door roused her.
What are you doing, Olivia? Don’t you dare black out in a foreign country. You need to get back to your hotel. Find everyone tomorrow.
Olivia yanked the door open to the angry face of a young woman, who shoved her out of the way and headed for a stall. “Can’t lock everyone else out,” the woman groused.
Thankfully Olivia spotted a chair tucked into an alcove at the back of the hallway.
I’ll just sit for a few minutes, sober up, and then I’ll get a cab, she told herself, sinking down and hooking her purse on the back of the chair.
Someone kicked her chair, waking her.
“You’re alive. Thought ya might be dead.” The young man laughed. Another man behind the first slapped him on the shoulder. The only detail she could discern, as the large male figures loomed over her, was that they both wore striped, long-sleeved polo shirts.
“C’mon. We’ll buy you a drink.”
“No. I’m good, thanks.” Olivia wasn’t sure if the words were clear enough.
They laughed, and then firm hands pulled her to her feet practically carrying her to the bar. Her feet refused to obey her brain’s commands. When the two men ordered shots, Olivia shook her head and tried to step away, but one stood close behind her, pressing her up against the bar. He reeked of whiskey, and her stomach rolled.
Oh god, she was going to be sick again. Olivia put her hands on the bar and tried to push back to free herself, but a hand came to her hip, biting in as she heard the man argue with the bartender.
“Nah, mate. She’s fine. We’re friends.”
The bartender continued to argue with them, but Olivia was more concerned that she was about to throw up on the bar. “Gonna be sick.”
“Fuck off, mate. She’s done,” the bartender barked.
“Wanker,” the man pinning her said, and then hands were spinning her, which didn’t help her stomach.
“Is that your hotel room?” Someone pulled at her, and fingers brushed against the skin of her inner forearm. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you home.” The hand that held her upright slid lower, and then slipped under her skirt brushing against her ass.
“No!” Olivia twisted away, but somehow they were at the door. Through the haze, her instincts screamed at her to get away.
“You’re all goo—” The words cut off, and he was ripped away, causing her to stumble backward. He flew to the side, and Olivia saw his friend step forward and throw a punch. Then it felt like all hell broke loose, as several of the men nearby were all too willing to jump into a fight after a night of drinking.
A hard shove from the side caught her, and she slipped, her head smacking the bar as she fell. Olivia sat for a second on the floor, watching the legs and feet moving erratically around her until her stomach couldn’t be ignored any longer.
Pulling herself upright with the help of the bar, Olivia stumbled to the bathroom and locked herself in a stall before her stomach revolted again.