30. Thirty
30
THIRTY
MILA
N avigating through the swarm of partygoers proved to be a Herculean task, their drunken limbs and slurred words threatening to topple my already unsteady balance. The champagne had gone straight to my head, mixing with the lingering high from the multiple orgasms Archer had given me. At this point, I didn't fucking care. I was consumed by anger at my father for his lies. I was so angry, I could scream. Even if I confronted him right now, he was not a man to take accountability for his indiscretions. Oh no, he would deny and deflect just like he always did. He couldn't fit the bill of a politician more if he tried.
My bladder felt like it was about to burst as I finally made it into a stall, dodging girls taking selfies, and others violently vomiting into porcelain bowls. The stench of alcohol and vomit filled the air, but I didn't have time to be repulsed. I struggled to hold my dress up while tugging down my underwear while simultaneously trying not to drop the vibrator into the toilet. After what seemed like an eternity, my bladder was empty, the vibrator had resumed its place on my very sensitive and swollen clit, and I was at the sink washing my hands. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, smoothing out my makeup and reapplying my lipstick .
I looked good as new.
The power of my anger seemed to have vanished, replaced by a strange sense of calm. The partygoers’ voices and laughter echoed in my ears, but I felt detached from it all. There was a sudden clarity in my mind—I knew what I needed to do. Leaving the bathroom, I returned to the whirlwind of noise and people. I made a quick pit stop at the bar to quench my thirst, giving myself a chance to settle my nerves.
The bartender was a petite brunette with glitter eyeliner that shimmered and danced with every blink. Her hair was styled in pigtails. The ends were curled into tight ringlets that bounced as she moved. She wore a tiny leopard print leotard that left little to the imagination, complete with cat ears and a painted-on nose.
"What'll it be?" she asked, eyeing me curiously from behind the bar.
"A whiskey sour, please. Extra whiskey," I responded.
She nodded and began mixing my drink, her movements smooth and practiced. The clinking of ice cubes against the glass had me mesmerized in my intoxicated state.
A sudden voice at my side startled me. "Fancy seeing you here, Mila."
I turned to see a face I recognized. One that I hoped I wouldn't see again.
Blue eyes.
Dark hair.
Fucking Alexander Benson.
"Pretty brave of you to be here," I scoffed, tapping my fingers against the bar impatiently and turning my head toward the bartender, hoping to deter him from speaking to me.
"I was invited."
"Yeah, somehow I doubt this is really your crowd."
"Don't believe me? Why not ask Daddy?"
"Oh, is that so?" I challenged, trying to maintain my confident demeanor despite the unease that bubbled in my stomach.
I searched his face for any sign that he was lying to me. His expression remained calm and unreadable, but there was a hint of satisfaction in his smirk, like he knew something I didn't. And one thing I've learned in my life is when someone is holding all the cards, the best you can do is call their bluff and redirect their attention to something else.
"I would suggest you go and scurry back onto the coattails you're riding before Archer catches you speaking to me."
"Your boyfriend won't do shit here."
"Interesting that you assume he won't. Didn't you make that mistake before?" I leaned closer to him, feeling a burst of reckless courage surge through me. With a deft movement, I plucked the cherry from his drink and popped it into my mouth, flicking the stem back toward him with a devilish grin. "What was it you said to me? Something about taking me from Archer? Tell me, Alexander, how is that working out for you?"
He held my stare, but I saw the way his jaw clenched in barely contained anger.
"While your confidence is sexy, I wonder if you'll still be so confident when your father gives you to me, and it's my cock you're sucking."
"My father doesn't own me."
"But we own your father," he chuckled, the sound grating on my nerves.
"Archer will kill my father and you before he ever lets you touch me," I said between gritted teeth.
"Oh, I'm counting on it," he countered, clicking his tongue in mock disappointment.
I could have stabbed him right there—stabbed him right in his stupid face and watched his blood soak the pristine oak of the bar. But I held myself back.
"Here's your drink."
The bartender's voice broke through our tense standoff. I gave her a small smile and reached for my glass, grateful for the distraction. No sooner had my fingers touched the cold glass when Archer came up behind me, pulling me back into his body and wrapping a protective arm around my waist. His grip was tight and overbearing, but I was comforted by it.
Theo and Kai weren't far behind him, positioning themselves strategically around us. Off to my left, our bodyguards were maneuvering toward us, scanning the room for potential threats, protecting their kings.
The tension in the air was electric.
"Impeccable timing, King. I was just telling your newest plaything about the agreement we have with her daddy," Alexander taunted.
"I'm going to fucking kill you," Archer growled, stepping toward him. "I'll fucking rip your eyes out and feed them to you for daring to even look at her."
"Ah, ah, ah," Alexander scolded him with condescending amusement. "You can't touch me here, and you know it."
"You think I care who sees?" Archer spat back, his tone laced with murderous intent.
People were starting to glance in our direction, and as much as I wanted Archer to make good on his threat, there would be an opportunity without so many witnesses. The last thing I wanted was to be looking at Archer behind a glass window.
"Go ahead, King. Lay your hands on me," Alexander goaded with a twisted grin. "And when you're rotting in prison, your precious little bitch will be on her knees praying to me instead of you."
I felt the shift in Archer's body. A shift that meant he was about to cause a scene. Instinctively, I stepped between him and Alexander, placing my hands gently on his chest. The look in his eyes was scary. He was something else entirely. The beast inside of him was fighting to be released, and I was small in comparison.
"Not now, Archer," I pleaded, trying to calm him down.
"Mila, move out of the way," Archer growled, his jaw tense and his hands clenched tightly in fists beside his side.
"No. This is what he wants. He wants you to lose control," I reasoned, desperate to turn his focus to me.
"I'm going to do more than lose control. Theo, please get Mila and bring her back to our table. She doesn't need to see this," he commanded, his anger seeping into every word.
Theo looked at Kai. Then, they both looked at each other and back at me. Theo started to walk toward me, and I gave him a death stare.
"Don't fucking touch me, Theo," I hissed.
Theo stopped in his tracks, put his hands up in surrender, and his mouth turned up in an amused smirk. I put my hands on Archer's face, begging him to look at me. "Babe, look at me. Don't look at him. He doesn't matter," I whispered, pushing my body into his, using what I had to pull his attention to me. "It's you and me. That's it."
After a couple of painstakingly tense seconds, Archer finally shifted his gaze from Alexander to me, and I sighed with relief. His gaze softened, and he took a deep breath, his anger fading slightly.
"You're lucky she's here, or you'd be a dead man," he told Alexander before taking my hand and pulling me to him as we walked away.
"I never thought I'd see the day that Archer King needed some whore bitch to defend him," Alexander shouted after us.
I don't know what came over me, but I didn't think twice when I let go of Archer's hand, grabbed a steak knife from a table on my way past it, and marched back toward Alexander. I moved stealthily through the crowd that had resumed dancing and laughing around him. By the time he realized I was in front of him, I plunged the knife into the top of his hand, pinning it to the bar top with a sickening squelch. His face went from joy to pure shock as he stared at his bleeding hand against the bar.
"Now, every time you go to touch your shrimp dick, you'll think about this whore bitch ," I whispered in his ear before imprinting his face into my core memories. I left him there, disappearing back into the crowd, no one paying attention to me or the fact that I had just assaulted someone.
When I returned to Archer, he had this look on his face that set me on fire. He cupped my face with both hands, his deep green eyes burning with desire and admiration .
"You just made my dick so hard," he growled, his lips grazing my forehead.
As we arrived back at our table, Kai and Theo offered their silent nods of approval, and Archer pulled out my chair for me and helped me sit down.
"I wish you would have let me kill him," he grumbled, running his hands gently up and down my back, sending goosebumps across my skin.
"If I had, then you'd be in handcuffs."
"I'd make prison orange look good though," he teased with a chuckle.
"I wouldn't survive this life without you next to me," I confessed, feeling the weight of Alexander's words pressing against my chest like a suffocating pressure.
"You won't have to."
"He said my father invited him. Do you know what he's talking about?"
Archer's expression turned serious. "We think your father is working with him."
"Who is he to you, and why is he here? At the quarry, he said he would enjoy taking me from you. And then, just now, he said ‘we own your father,’ and he was counting on you to kill my father and come after him."
"I will tell you everything you want to know, but not here. Not now. It's not safe."
"Promise me, Archer. I can't take any more secrets or hidden agendas tonight. I've had enough of them from my father."
"I promise, little rabbit." He kissed me tenderly, and I embraced him.
Archer was my sanctuary .
My protector.
He had been a part of my life long ago, and fate brought us back together. I wouldn't let anyone take him away from me this time. Least of all, my father or any of his associates . I listened to conversations, watched my friends dance, and thought about everything that happened that night. I felt drunk and vulnerable.
"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" Archer asked, caressing my cheek and turning my face toward him. "Talk to me."
"Take me home, Archer."
"Are you sure?" he asked, concern etched in his beautiful features.
"God, yes."
"Let me tell the boys. We can say goodbye to our parents and go," he said, standing up and taking my hand as I followed him.
"I have nothing to say to my father, so let's just say goodbye to yours," I told him as we walked.
"Okay, baby."
After quickly settling plans with the boys, Archer led me through the crowds of people to his father's table. My father watched us intently, but I ignored him and turned my attention to Cassian and Eleanor instead.
"Thank you so much for coming." Eleanor hugged me tightly and whispered, "I am so glad you are back in our lives. In Archer's life. You have no idea how much he needs you. Your mother would be proud of the woman you've become." She pulled back and kissed my cheek softly. "Archer, bring her to dinner soon."
"I'd love to," Archer smiled, gently pulling me closer to him possessively.
"Thank you for being so kind to me, Mrs. King," I said gratefully.
"Eleanor, honey. Please," she insisted with a warm smile.
"Yes, ma'am," I nodded respectfully.
"It was nice to meet you, Mila," Cassian shook my hand, his politician smile firmly in place. "I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other."
"Thank you, Mr. King. Good luck with the election," I replied politely.
"Archer, give me a call tomorrow. There are some things we need to discuss."
Strong hands suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the group .
"Mila, I need to speak to you...privately," my father said in his stern, emotionless voice. A voice that I had grown so accustomed to and had never questioned. For the first time in my life, I saw him for who he truly was, and it terrified me. But I refused to back down, even as his fingers dug into my arm.
"Not tonight, Daddy. I'm tired, and Archer is taking me home."
"You're leaving without giving your speech on my behalf?" he spat, his face turning red and his fingers digging deeper into my arm.
"I think it's best if I don't. Now, please, Dad, let go of my arm. You're hurting me."
"Mr. Grey, I strongly advise you to let go of her right now." Archer's voice cut through the tension as he stepped forward to stand by my side.
"Who the fuck do you think you are? I will do what I want with my daughter. And my daughter has a role to play, and she clearly forgot the hand that fed her. If your mother could see you now, licking the scraps of this King boy like a whore ."
He uttered the last word with so much venom and disgust I nearly winced. Archer started moving toward him, but I stopped him with a raised arm. As much as he wanted to rip my father's head off for touching me, he accepted that I was handling it and respected me enough to give me that. It was a thin line of space, but space nonetheless.
"How dare you think you have any right to speak on what my mother would think of me. You poor, pathetic, small man."
In a split second, his hand connected with my cheek in a vicious slap that left me reeling. Archer went for him, but Kai and Theo held him back.
And I was grateful for it.
In our world, public appearance is the driving force behind everything. My father wanted a confrontation and needed it to come back on top.
To survive.
He was scared. I could see it on his face. He didn't have to tell me he was running out of time. I felt it in the air. I knew Alexander wasn't lying when he said my father was owned.
I could see it written all over his face.
How deep that went, I didn't know. But I planned to find out.
The sting of his hand across my face paled in comparison to the searing pain that erupted inside me. It was like a dam had burst, releasing all the emotions I had bottled up for too long. The alcohol coursing through my veins only fueled my anger and gave me the courage to move out of my father's shadow, once and for all. I touched my cheek, my skin hot and painful, then met his gaze, standing tall and steeling my resolve. My eyes were blurred with tears, and his words cut deep, reigniting years of unresolved, pent-up anger and grief for the loss of my mother.
"You know what, Daddy? I forgot to give my speech," I remarked, pushing past him and heading toward the stage.