Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
SARAH
“You should really think about doing Rise and Shine Britain, Sarah.” Liz waved a perfectly manicured hand.
Everything about Liz was immaculate and classy.
She wore a chartreuse green silk shirt that looked stunning against her dark umber skin.
Her high-waisted pencil skirt was black, but her stilettos were a matching chartreuse.
Her dark braids were swept up in an intricate bun and she wore delicate gold rings on every finger.
She had a similar style to Aria. And like Aria, Liz was brisk and businesslike but warm and friendly too.
“You’ve got something about you, Sarah. People will love you on interview. I can tell.”
We’d spent the last two hours sipping cocktails and talking about work, our lives, and my plans for Juno. What was next after Juno. Now we’d circled back to the interviews my publishers wanted me to do.
“As much as I appreciate that, I am not ready to do national television.” I blushed just thinking about it. “I admit I’ve come a long way in confidence these past few months, but I didn’t miraculously change overnight.”
“Aye, I get that,” she replied in her Geordie accent I loved so much.
“I promise I get that. But just think on it a bit more. When this deal with Cavendish is announced, people are going to be very excited about the author behind Juno. Moreover … you should be prepared to find yourself in the public eye if you’re in a serious relationship with Theo.
He’s traversed that impossible crossover into celebrity director. Not all directors do that.”
My stomach flipped at the thought of the public being interested in our relationship.
We’d made so much progress in such a small space of time.
I was so proud of him for facing his dad.
So much so, I felt ready now to give him those three little words back.
I’d just been waiting for him to say them again.
But to have to share him with the country? That I was not looking forward to.
I’d do it, though, to be with him.
“I hear you.” I nodded, pushing my chair back. “And I promise to think about it. But for now, I need to pee. One too many mojitos.”
Liz chuckled and pointed toward the bar. “The restrooms are back there.”
I weaved through the crowded pub, walking along the edges of the actual bar area, searching for a sign pointing to the restrooms. Liz and I had ordered chicken wings to soak up the alcohol, so while I was buzzed, I wasn’t drunk.
My skin, however, was hot from the cocktails, and hot skin made me think of Theo.
I grinned wickedly at my plans of jumping him as soon as I returned to the flat.
Seeing the sign for the restrooms, I strolled past the counter and down a corridor. It branched off to the right toward the kitchen and to the left down another dimly lit hallway. I noted three doors, two on the left and one at the end of the hall.
The second door on the left was the ladies’ restroom and there was a big fat OUT OF ORDER sign on it. “Bloody hell.” Guess it would just have to wait.
I spun away and almost ran smack-bang into a male chest.
“Sorry,” the man muttered, his face half shadow in the low light. He wore a black shirt, black tie, and black trousers like the other waitstaff and bartenders. “Ladies’ restroom is out of order,” he explained unnecessarily but gestured behind me. “You can use the staff one if you like.”
“Oh, thank goodness, thanks.” I walked toward the door at the end of the hall. “It’s this one?”
There was no answer, so I assumed he’d gone back to work. I pushed open the door, realizing a second too late that I’d just opened an exit and not a restroom door.
I might not have been drunk, but the alcohol had definitely slowed my cognition because I stumbled out into the dark, narrow alley behind the bar before I could stop myself.
Rolling my eyes, I moved to turn to go back and find the door he’d meant, when what felt like steel bands wrapped around me and something covered my mouth.
I jerked in fright as a chemical smell filtered up my nose and I heard the male grunt behind me as a hard body shuffled me farther into the alley.
Knowing I only had seconds before I passed out from what I suspected was chloroform, I reacted instinctively. And dropped like a sack of potatoes.
My assailant didn’t expect it, and I had time to turn and punch him hard between the legs with a shriek of rage. Just like Jared had taught me after he’d heard about the attack on Sloane at Ardnoch.
Muttered expletives fell from the guy’s mouth as he clutched his crotch and I scrambled back. Flashbacks from that night in Inverness all those years ago looming, but I knew I couldn’t panic. Panic would get me nowhere.
Then renewed horror filled me when light from a security lamp above caught his face.
I knew that face.
All of Britain knew that face. Handsome, but with empty eyes.
It was Quinn Gray.
A sense of surreal terror threatened to overcome me, but the survivor in me took control. I shoved up onto my feet, scrambling and slipping on food waste that had spilled out from the bar’s rubbish bins. Beyond the tight alleyway was the street. I could see cars passing, people walking past.
I just had to get to them.
It felt like I was running in slow motion.
A tight pain scored across my scalp and down my spine as something caught in my hair and pulled me back with such force, I lost my footing.
I screamed as Quinn dragged me back down the alley, but music throbbed from inside the buildings on either side of us and the traffic beyond drowned me out.
I clawed at his hands, dragging my nails down his arms, and he growled like an animal.
Suddenly, he threw me against the damp, brick wall, and my cheek scraped against it, leaving a stinging pain in its wake.
I spun, jabbing out an elbow blindly but catching him in the chest. Rage suffused his expression, and I could barely hear over the blood rushing in my ears as he came at me.
Before he could grab my arms, I raked my nails down his face and he stumbled back, cursing. “You fucking bitch,” he hissed, his gaze searing as he whipped a penknife out of his back pocket and brandished it. “You’re nothing. Nothing to him. A nobody. I’ll teach you that you’re nothing.”
Nothing.
Nothing.
A word my mum had used to describe me.
How fucking dare he? This sick, twisted fuck of a stranger.
Fury unlike anything I’d ever felt surged through me, like a live flame burning through my blood, propelling my body forward.
I charged him like a wild thing, grasping the wrist of his knife hand as I shoved with every ounce of adrenaline coursing within.
It took him so by surprise, Quinn moved with the force until I slammed him into the opposite brick wall.
His head connected with a sickening thud and the knife clattered to the ground.
I lunged for it, but a weight crashed down on me, Quinn’s breath puffing against my nape as my chest hit the ground.
Struggling to breathe as my panic surged, I grappled for the knife on the wet, cold ground and then smashed my elbow back into his face.
He jerked back just long enough for me to turn and slash out at him, but he dodged the blade and then grabbed my wrist.
We wrestled for the knife as his weight forced me onto my back. I knew if he got the weapon, it was over.
I screeched in pain and rage as he squeezed the bones in my wrist until I thought they might break. My fingers involuntarily let go of the knife and he grabbed it.
No!
I couldn’t see his expression in this light, but I could sense his dark triumph. Tears of fury and fear sprung to my eyes. It couldn’t end like this. Not just for me but for Theo.
If it ended like this, it would end him.
I screamed with renewed determination as I snagged at his wrist, trying to fight for the blade.