10. Antonio
Antonio
Istorm down the corridor with fire in my veins, my military training coming back to me as I catalogue everything with one sweep of my eyes. Men’s restroom on the left. Women’s just past that. Storage closet on the right. Exit door at the end.
First, I push open the men’s room door and barrel inside, startling some poor bloke taking a piss.
It’s not Jenkins. Fuck. I retreat without an apology and pause beside the women’s room.
The crowd and music sounds are muffled back here, so I can clearly hear two voices from inside. One woman’s and one man’s.
Slinging open the door, the fire in my veins turns molten when I take in the scene. Ophelia—my Ophelia—is cowering away from the arsehole gripping her wrist, and I see fucking red.
“Get the fuck away from her,” I roar, and Jenkins jerks his hand away. Ophelia had been pulling against him, and his sudden release causes her to stumble backward and fall on her bum onto the forest-green tiled floor.
I think I could take down a raging rhinoceros at this point, and I rush forward, delivering a brutal backhand across Jenkins’s face on my way to her. I hear him cry out and hit the ground as I kneel beside Ophelia.
The fear in her eyes almost breaks me in two, and I hold up both hands, assuring her I won’t hurt her. Dammit all to hell, I scared her.
“It’s okay, darlin’,” I say in my most soothing voice. “I promise you’re safe with me.”
“I know,” she says, her voice raspy and anxious. She launches herself at me, and I catch her, feeling some measure of relief that she’s in my arms.
“Are you okay, love?” I ask, rubbing my hand from her lower back, up to her neck, and back down again. Over and over.
“He just frightened me when he came in here. He’s really drunk.
” The trembling of her body matches my own, though hers is from fear.
Mine, on the other hand, is pure rage. How fucking dare Jenkins follow her into the restroom and scare her.
I want to beat the life from him, but I need to calm myself long enough to take care of Ophelia.
“Does anything hurt?” I ask softly.
“My wrist is a little sore where he grabbed me,” she admits before quickly adding, “but it’s fine. Can you help me stand up?”
“I’ll carry you,” I say definitively, and she emits a tremulous laugh.
“It’s not that big of a deal, baby.”
Baby. She called me baby, and I damn well liked it.
“You were assaulted,” I grit out, though I do as she asked and rise, setting her carefully on her feet with my hands on her waist to steady her.
She swipes at the skirt of her dress and smooths down her mussed hair.
I gently take her arm, seeing red fingerprints marring her perfect skin. “Swear to god, if he bruised you…”
“I’m okay,” she says, her tone placating. I bring her arm to my lips and kiss each fingerprint he left on her… to replace his touch with mine. Tears well in her eyes as she uses her free hand to stroke my hair. “Thank you for finding me and taking care of that.”
Her nose wrinkles as she nods at the pathetic man whimpering in the corner with his hand over his mouth. Blood seeps from between his fingers, and the sight of it stirs something dark inside me and makes me want to see more.
“No one hurts you, love,” I whisper, leaning in because I need to kiss her more than I need my next breath.
Just then the door to the restroom bursts open, and we yank apart as Helix, Phoenix, and Remi pour into the room. Their eyes dart from their mom to me to Jenkins before they converge on Ophelia.
“Mom, are you okay?” Remi asks, his voice raspy with concern. I can barely see her because she’s surrounded by her sons.
“I’m fine, honey,” she assures.
“What happened?” Phoenix asks. “I saw Antonio storming the corridor like his ass was on fire, so I grabbed Helix and Remi.”
His mother gives them a rundown. She’d come into the bathroom, and while she was washing her hands, she saw J.P.’s reflection behind her in the mirror. It startled and scared her, especially when he staggered drunkenly toward her and grabbed her arm, barking about her rejecting him.
“Then Antonio came in and bitch slapped him,” she finishes, meeting my eyes in the small gap between Helix and Phoenix with the tiniest smile on her face.
Remi crosses to me and places a hand on my shoulder. “Thank you, Antonio. You have no idea how much we appreciate you.”
“He hit me,” Jenkins whines, and we all glare at him.
“You’re lucky that’s all he did,” Remi snaps.
“Now that you’re here with your mum, I’ll take care of this piece of shite,” I grunt, snatching Jenkins by the hair. When he yells in pain, I grab a hand towel and stuff it in his mouth. “Shut the fuck up. You don’t have the privilege of speaking in front of her.”
Then I drag him from the room by his hair, hearing “Oh shit. He’s going to kill him,” from someone behind me.
Damn fucking right I am.
Jenkins’s sobs are muffled by the towel, and I don’t meet anyone else in the corridor as I pull him along behind me and shove open the exit door. We emerge into an alley scantly lit by two bare bulbs mounted high on the building.
Jerking on the handful of hair I’m holding, I pull Jenkins upright, not missing the abject fear in his watery eyes. Good. I hope he’s as scared as he made Ophelia earlier.
My hand wraps around his skinny throat, and I pull the towel from his mouth before shoving him against the brick wall. The alcohol on his heaving breaths is evident.
“You think it’s okay to put your hands on a woman?” I growl, pulling him forward a couple inches and then slamming him back against the wall so hard his teeth rattle. “At an event for women who have been victims of violence?” My arm pulls back, fist clenched.
A quiet voice stills me. “Antonio.”
I close my eyes at the sweetness of my name on her lips, and the clench of my fist loosens as I swivel my head. Ophelia stands there with Remi at her side.
Her son speaks this time. “I know you’re mad.
I am too, but let’s not spoil this night for Mom by you getting arrested.
” That has my other hand—the one around Jenkins’s throat—slackening, allowing him to fall to the ground.
It’s as if the beast inside me has been tamed with those words. And with her presence.
Inhaling and exhaling slowly, I turn to face them. Ophelia’s eyes are wide and afraid. Is she scared of me after seeing this side of me? I’m not sure I can survive if she fears me.
“I’m sorry if I ruined your beautiful event, Ophelia,” I say, unable to meet her gaze.
To my shock, she walks toward me and wraps her arms around my waist. It’s a chaste embrace, but it feels like everything. Aware her son is standing there watching us, I keep my hands near her shoulder blades instead of wrapping her up like I want to do.
“You didn’t ruin anything; J.P. did. Thank you for being there,” she says. And then, where only I can hear, she whispers, “I’m not afraid of you, Antonio.”
Christ, how does she know me so well already? How was she able to read my thoughts and know exactly what I needed to hear?
“Security is on the way,” Remi says as his mother releases me.
“Damn, I had planned to throw this rubbish where he belongs,” I lament, tilting my head toward the dumpster at the end of the alley.
“I’d think that would be an excellent idea if there weren’t cameras out here,” Remi points out, his lips turned up in wry amusement.
***
I’m deep in thought as I drive Ophelia home. She seems to perceive my mood because she doesn’t speak much either. A war is raging inside me, the two sides at odds… what I want to do and what I should do.
What I want is to claim Ophelia as my own and scream from the rooftops that she’s mine. On the flip side, what I should be doing is distancing myself. After tonight, it’s obvious I’m not worthy of a woman like her.
She’s classy and beautiful and kind, while I'm a rough man with scars and a volatile temper. And no matter what she says, I know she was scared by my behavior in the alley.
“Stop spiraling,” Ophelia says, breaking through my internal self-flaggelation. I’m a little surprised to find that we’re in her driveway with her garage door open, the side she always reserves for my vehicle when I come over.
“I think I should go home tonight,” I say, staring out the front windshield. I can practically hear her rolling her eyes.
“Shut up and pull inside. I need you to walk me in.”
With a sigh, I do as she demanded, hopping out of the car as the bay door closes behind me. When I open her car door for her, she rises on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek. God, she’s so sweet, only highlighting the resounding differences between us.
Ophelia leads me inside and up the stairs, and I follow along like a good little pup. When we reach her bedroom, my jaw aches from grinding my teeth so hard.
“Ophelia, I really need to go.”
“No,” she states firmly. “I want to clean up your hand.”
Looking down, I notice for the first time that there are deep scratches, and I vaguely remember Jenkins clawing at me while I was dragging him.
“I’m fine,” I state, but the words sound hollow because Ophelia is unzipping her dress, allowing the black fabric to pool on the floor at her feet. She’s left only in a black lace bra, a tiny matching thong, and her fuck-me heels. Mother of god, she is fecking breathtaking.
She pulls me by the hand until we’re in her luxurious bathroom and pushes me until my ass hits the white marble lavatory. Then she pulls out a first aid kit and proceeds to undo my tie. I can’t take my eyes off her the entire time.
“Ophelia, I think we need to talk.”
“Umm-hmmm,” she sing-songs, moving to unbutton my shirt. “Let me guess. You think you don’t deserve me.”
“Well, yes,” I admit.
“And you think you scared me because you wanted to beat the shit out of J.P. tonight.” She grabs a stain pen and begins pre-treating the blood stains on my shirt cuffs, still not looking at me.
“Yes,” I whisper, shame coursing through me like a tidal wave. “I have a temper.”