Chapter 34 #2
“Hey, you’re perfect,” I murmur, eyes dipping to her lips. She pulls the corner of her bottom lip into her teeth, and my hand fists on her back. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” she breathes.
My hand drops to rest on the lower part of her neck, palm splayed out over her chest. Her pulse pounds beneath my hand as I bring my lips to her ear. “Bite your lip again, and I’ll fuck you over this balcony where everyone can watch and see who you belong to.”
Small bumps rise under my palm. Instead of protesting, like I thought she would do, her hand grips my belt, pulling my hips into her. I pull my face away to look at her, a small smirk playing on her lips. Her shoulders pull back, and her chin rises.
“Maybe I want you to,” she whispers before taking a step away from me.
There’s an air of confidence about her tonight—but I can see right through the act. It’s the same act she puts on upon that torturous stage at DL.
My teeth grind together. Hard. Her wicked smirk is doing nothing to aid the urge to fuck her over this balcony exactly like I said.
The last of the guests file in down the stairs and settle into their seats as Camila quietly stands beside me, watching the event. Confidence is painted on her face, but I can see the way her eyes search the room, looking for any bit of danger.
“You’re safe with me,” I promise, taking her hand and smoothing my thumb over her soft skin.
Jac makes his way up the stairs. He reaches his hand out towards Camila.
Nervously—because I can see the very faint tremble in her movements—she places her palm in his.
He brings her knuckles up to his mouth. This bastard is lucky there’s a room full of people with eyes on us, or I would be clocking him right in the face.
“You look beautiful, Camila,” he compliments, taking a quick peek at me.
I clench my fists at my sides, watching their interaction.
Bastard, bastard, bastard.
Camila’s hand drops to her left leg, playing with the hem of the skirt there. “Oh, thank you.” Her voice sounds unsure. I can’t blame her. He hasn’t given her the warmest impression of himself.
“Okay, that’s enough,” I cut in, grabbing her hand with my own and narrowing my eyes at Jac, who smirks and turns towards our tech guy, grabbing two microphones.
I circle my attention to Camila, who’s already attempting to back away.
“No.” I stop her by gripping her forearm and dragging her to stand with me at the front.
“Um, I don’t know if I—”
Jacques interrupts her by starting his speech. The crowd hushes to a murmur, then grows quiet.
“Ladies and gents, thank you for participating in our annual charity event. This year’s charity is New Horizons. It’s a charity based in South London, helping children living in orphanages…”
My focus is fixed on Camila. She’s gripping the edge of her skirt, her eyes ping-ponging all over.
I tangle my fingers with hers, giving her hand a light squeeze. She whirls her head to me, and her expression relaxes as I smile down at her. She’s here. Beside me. And she’s real.
“As you know, orphanages are not as common anymore, so they are running out of money to supply children with everything they need—" Jacques’ voice trails off as unwanted memories make their way to the forefront of my mind.
My body becomes rigid as he talks.
Camila’s hand squeezes mine. She looks up at me and gives me a reassuring smile—those viridian eyes shining in the spotlight—and suddenly, the demons fall asleep.
The guests burst into applause, pulling us out of our moment. She turns, hands clapping together as she smiles at both of us.
All I’m hoping for in my head right now is that the band remembers to kick the gala off with Stand By Me like I asked them to.
And they do. As the bass of the guitar starts the iconic tune, Camila’s lips part on a surprised gasp.
A slow smile spreads over my face as I offer her my hand.
She places hers in mine, and I guide us down the stairs onto the dance floor.
Her heels step on each stair gracefully—almost practiced.
But it’s not. These movements come naturally to her; she’s letting the music guide her.
Twirling her around as we weave our way through other guests, deeper onto the dance floor, the green shimmer of her flowing dress glitters in the violet lights.
I pull her into me as we begin to glide our way across the dance floor to the instrumental sound of the song.
Each step feels like it’s been hardwired into both of us, like we both know the steps, that they were meant for us.
Her gaze clings to mine as I move her into a series of twists, turns, and dips.
Her chest moves rapidly, her skin glowing.
“Did you plan this?” she breathes.
“If you’re asking about the dance, no. The song? Yes.”
I hold onto her waist, dipping her as her spine arches. Her head whips leisurely before I pull her back upright.
“How did you know about the song?”
“You’re rooted and buried in my soul, Angel. I told you I’d find out everything about you,” I confess, dipping my lips to her neck and placing a gentle kiss. She hums in response, her nails digging into my shoulders. “That night of the storm. You slept soundly to it,” I rumble into her neck.
Silver lines her eyes when I finally meet her heart-shaped face again, a well of emotions quilting her face.
Fuck, what did I do now?
My muscles firm, and my steps start to totter.
She places a delicate hand on my jaw, her eyes reading into every reaction. “Thank you, Xander.”
I’m stupefied.
What is she thanking me for?
She closes in on me, placing her head on my chest as we sway gently, and it feels like it’s just the two of us in this hall, basking in the moment for a few seconds.
I guide her by the hand into another twirl, then lift her by the waist and circle us around as her hair shrouds both of us away from the world.
I place her back down as the song comes to an end.
She grips both of my hands and pulls us apart.
While still holding one hand, she spins into me while my arm cradles her, and she presses a firm kiss on my lips.
“Fucker still owes me money. I’ve been chasing him down about it for weeks. If he doesn’t show up in the next few days, I’ll have no choice but to take drastic measures.” The old man laughs, making gun fingers and ‘pew-pew’ noises as everyone chuckles.
Camila tries hard to keep her face schooled whilst listening to the conversations around us. But that hint of a scowl on her face is prominent.
I feel guilty for dragging her here, but I wanted her with me. I wanted to show her that I’m not the big bad wolf beneath all my sins. And I can't let her out of my sight again.
I should’ve anticipated conversations like this would come up. But it seems like this year more people are getting fucked over with their drug supplies, dealers, and agreements. Some even get themselves in deep shit with mafia families.
Jac listens to every conversation intently, most likely taking mental notes. He’s been watching me and Camila like a hawk. If he’s not busy prying into others’ conversations, he’s monitoring us.
Camila sighs beside me.
“We can leave if you want,” I whisper, pulling her waist closer.
She shakes her head, smiling up at me. “No. I want to be here for you. This clearly means a lot to you.”
She has no idea how much.
Her voice takes on a non-pushy, serious tone. “I’m here whenever you’re ready to tell me about it.”
I guess we can both read each other well.
“There he is!” someone shouts behind us. We both spin around to see none other than Frederick approaching us.
If there’s one person I didn’t want to see tonight, it’s him. He owns the neighbouring strip club, for exactly the same reasons as us. Although, this degenerate treats his dancers like objects and definitely underpays them, from what I’ve heard.
“Frederick.” I force a smile. Camila takes him in and takes a step into me.
Frederick’s leery gaze snags on her, licking his lips as he looks her up and down.
Not the time or place to be looking at my Angel like that.
I’m armed, and my blood pressure is quickly rising.
“How can I help you, Fred?” I ask, low and dangerous.
As if Jac can sense the rising tension, he slinks up on to the other side of Camila.
“I just wanted to catch up with my club neighbours,” he starts, eyes still trained on Camila. “But now I think I’m more interested in something else.” He raises his hand towards her but flinches away when he hears my voice.
“Not a step fucking closer,” I growl, stepping in front of her.
“Oh, come on. We both know why she’s here.”
“She’s my date. You think this is some kind of bidding war, asshole?” I snarl in his face, still quiet enough to not bring attention to us. “Wrong fucking event.”
“I’d pay you good money for her—”
I snap. Fury settles my bones.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my gun, but my arm is quickly shoved back down by a ringed hand.
“Xander,” Jacques hisses.
“Mr Warren, we have somewhere to be,” Ezra cuts in, standing beside us, arms folded in front of him, attempting to deescalate the situation.
I rip out of Jac’s grip and grab Frederick by the collar.
“If you so much as look in her direction again, I’m going to personally burn your club down to the ground, rip your eyeballs out of your sockets, and feed them to you.
” Pushing him backwards, he stumbles into someone.
Gasps ring out, and the sounds of joyful commotion and activity quiet to a low murmur, violins still playing in the background.
Frederick laughs uncomfortably as I follow Ezra and Daniel out with Camila in front of me, passing him fixing his tie while others gape at him.
A smack resounds in the room. Frederick’s hand on Camila’s ass burns through me, and Camila’s gasp tolls in my ears. She clutches her butt, spinning, her arm out ready to swing, but before she can, I draw my gun from my blazer again, pointing it at his head and pulling the trigger.
Another set of gasps, then silence.
Camila whirls, her legs speeding up the stairs as we all chase behind her.
“Are you okay?” I ask, and I can see the shaky nod of her head through her curls.
It seems all I’ve been fucking doing recently is asking if she’s okay. This shouldn’t be happening. How can I keep her safe if all I’m doing is putting her in danger?
“Nothing to see here. Let the party continue," Jac pronounces when we reach the top of the stairs.
In an instant, the music resumes.