Chapter 11 #3
He practically drags me off the dance floor, through the crowd, and out into the hallway.
I can feel people watching, can hear the murmur of gossip starting to spread.
Dr. Kouris looks concerned. Vivian looks alarmed.
But Thad doesn't care. He pulls me down the hallway, around a corner, and into an empty alcove near the coat check.
"What the hell was that?" he demands.
"We were just dancing—"
"Just dancing? With him? The one you've been spending all your time with?" His grip on my arm tightens. "Do you think I'm stupid, Savannah? Do you think I don't see what's happening here?"
"Nothing is happening. He's my project partner—"
"Bullshit. I saw the way he was looking at you. The way you were looking at him." He pushes me back against the wall, his body crowding mine. "Are you fucking him?"
"What? No! Thad, you're being ridiculous—"
"Am I? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like my fiancée is making a fool of me in front of half the university."
"I was dancing. That's all. You're overreacting—"
"I'm overreacting?" He laughs harshly. "I leave you alone for five minutes, and you're in another man's arms. A man who clearly wants to fuck you. And I'm overreacting?"
"Let go of me. You're hurting me."
"Good. Maybe you need to be hurt. Maybe you need to remember who you belong to."
His words, his grip, the way he's looming over me—it's all too much. Fear and anger war in my chest, and suddenly I'm frightened. I can’t flee… he’s got me literally backed into a corner, so all I can do is fight.
"I don't belong to anyone," I say, my voice shaking but firm. "I'm not your property, Thad. I'm a person. And you don't get to treat me like this."
"I'm treating you like my fiancée. Like someone who's supposed to be loyal to me. But clearly, that's too much to ask."
"Loyalty? You want to talk about loyalty?
You've spent the entire evening networking, ignoring me, treating me like an accessory.
You criticize what I wear, you dismiss my career, you make decisions without consulting me.
And now you're angry because I danced with someone who actually sees me as a person? "
His jaw clenches so tightly that I see his lips turn white at the edges. "I see you as a person. I see you as my future wife. As the mother of my children. As—"
"As what? As Edgar Beauregard's daughter? As a way to advance your career? Because that's all I've ever been to you, isn't it? A useful connection. A good match."
His hand moves from my arm to my throat—not squeezing, but the threat is there. The promise of what he could do if he wanted to.
"You're being hysterical."
"I'm being honest. For the first time in our entire relationship, I'm being honest." Tears are streaming down my face now, but I don't care. "I don't love you, Thad. I don't think I ever have. And I don't want to marry you."
His eyes go cold. "You don't mean that."
"I do. I absolutely do."
"You're upset. You're confused. That man has gotten into your head—"
"No. He's made me see clearly for the first time. He's made me realize that I deserve better than this. Better than you."
Thad's hand tightens on my throat, just slightly. Just enough to make breathing difficult. Just enough to remind me that he's stronger, that he could hurt me if he wanted to.
"You're not breaking up with me," he says quietly.
"Not here. Not like this. We're going to go back in there, we're going to smile and act like everything is fine.
Then we're going to go home and discuss this like adults. We will talk about moving the marriage up, and you will do as you’re told if you want to continue going to school here—"
"No."
"Savannah—"
"No. I'm done. I'm done pretending. I'm done being controlled. I'm done with all of it."
I push against his chest, and he stumbles back, surprised. I use the moment to slip past him and run down the hallway toward the exit.
I can hear him calling after me, but I don't stop. I burst through the doors into the cool night air, gasping, my heart racing, my whole body shaking.
I need to get away. I need space. I need—
"Savannah."
I hear Romeo's voice. He must have followed me out—must have been waiting to make sure I was okay. I turn, and he's there, his face etched with concern and barely controlled rage.
"Did he hurt you?"
I can't speak. I can only shake my head, even though it's a lie. My arm aches where Thad grabbed me. My throat feels tender where his hand was a moment ago.
"Let me see."
He reaches for my arm gently, pushing up the sleeve of my dress. Even in the dim light from the building, we can both see the marks forming. Finger-shaped bruises, dark against my pale skin.
Romeo's jaw clenches. "I'm going to kill him."
"No. Please. I just—I need to get out of here. I need—"
I don't know what I need. I just know I can't go back in there. I can't face Thad again. I can't face the stares and whispers and judgment after the very public confrontation that just happened.
"Come with me.” Romeo’s hand is still on my arm, and I look up at him.
"Where?"
"Anywhere. Nowhere. Just away from here."
He takes my hand, and I let him lead me away from the building, from the gala, away from everything. We walk in silence through the dark campus, past the library and the academic buildings, toward the edge of campus where there's a small garden area that's usually deserted at night.
I’ve been here before, to study or read when the weather is nice. It’s private and secluded, and right now the sounds of the gala are distant, muffled by the trees and distance. It’s a relief, like a barrier between me and all the things I don’t want to face right now.
Romeo stops and turns to face me. "Are you okay?"
"No. I'm not okay. I'm—" The words catch in my throat. "I'm so angry. And scared. And I don't know what to do."
"You don't have to do anything right now.” He stands there, hovering as I lean against the nearest thick tree, but unlike Thad, he doesn’t feel too close. I want his presence here; it makes me feel safer, not stifled.
But I can't breathe. I can't think. Everything is crashing down around me—the engagement, my father's expectations, the life I'm supposed to want but don't. I feel the scratch of the bark against my bare shoulder and the chill of the autumn night air prickling over my skin. I try to ground myself with that, to focus on it, but my heart is still racing, and I can’t focus.
“He scared me,” I whisper. “I—”
"I know. I saw." Romeo touches my face gently, his hands on my cheeks, tilting my chin up so I have to look at him. "I'm so sorry. I should have—"
"Don't. Don't apologize. This isn't your fault."
"Isn't it? If I hadn't asked you to dance, if I hadn't pushed—"
“I wanted to dance with you.” It comes out as a whisper.
I turn to face him, realizing too late how close we are, how my back is against the tree now, my body nearly caged in by his.
I can smell the cedar of his cologne mixed with the damp leafy smell of the air, and I suck in a breath, my chest heaving as I try to slow the racing of my heart.
But now it’s pounding for a different reason altogether.
I can see what I’m feeling in Romeo’s face, too.
There’s only a faint glow lighting the garden, from the lampposts a few yards away and the moon overhead.
We’re mostly shrouded in darkness, but I swear I can see his eyes darken as he looks down at me, see his jaw tighten as one of his hands slides down until his thumb and forefinger are resting on my chin.
His other hand braces against the tree next to me, and for a long moment, neither of us moves. And then, slowly, so slowly, his thumb slides up to press against my lower lip.
I feel the sigh he lets out, feel his body sway toward mine. My lips part, and I hear the low noise he makes, the tension in the air between us thickening.
“Savannah—”
The way he whispers my name sounds almost reverent, as if he could fall to his knees in front of me right now. The thought of what he could do there, things I only vaguely know about and can barely begin to imagine, sends a shudder of heat rippling down my spine.
I feel the moment he reacts to it, to this thing between us that I realize now was only ever going to end one way.
I’ve been running from it, but it’s too late to escape it now. Not when I want it so badly.
His hand leaves my mouth, replaced by his lips a second later. I arch into the kiss the moment his mouth touches mine, and I feel him groan against my lips, feel the heat of his tongue as it sweeps against mine. His hips rock forward, pinning me to the tree, and I can feel how hard he is.
My hand goes to his chest, and I should be pushing him away, but instead my fingers curl into his shirt, bringing him closer.
He groans again, his hand squeezing my hip through the silk of my dress as he rocks against me, the rigid length of his cock pressing against my thigh.
His tongue sweeps through my mouth again, his fingers curling in my skirt as if to tug it up, and then he breaks the kiss.
“I should take you back. If I don’t—”
There’s something wild in his eyes. He doesn’t want to take me back. What he wants is to stay here, with me, and I want that too.
I want him. I want him so fucking badly it hurts.
I barely know what this feeling is. I’ve never felt it before for anyone, but it feels instinctual, primal, like the most natural thing I could feel for him.
It’s also impossibly dangerous. We’re not that far from the gala, still. Thaddeus could come looking for me. He could find us here.
But I can’t bring myself to care.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper, the words spilling out before I can stop them. My hand curls around the back of his neck, pulling him back to me. “Please don’t stop.”
“Savannah.” My name rasps across his tongue, something pleading in the way he says it. “Savannah—”