Chapter 43 Panic – Briar
PANIC
brIAR
Now
My heart hammers in my chest, a frantic rhythm that refuses regulation.
The scent of perfume, sweat, alcohol, and… sex hangs heavy in the air. My breaths are shallow, the air feels hot, the room… too small.
Men watch me as I pass; their gazes leave me feeling gross, violated by their eyes alone.
The club is similar to Wonderland, but worse. It’s high class, and most of the men have on designer suits, Cartier watches—the whole place is dripping in arrogance and privilege.
There are poles, and women dancing, and I walk by several couples openly having sex. When I pass a girl on her knees, a collar wrapped around her neck, and the man she’s animatedly sucking off holding the chain connected to it, I quicken my steps.
Briar, you idiot. What have you gotten yourself into?
My heart rate grows more erratic, my breaths coming in shallow and uneven.
Fuck. Not here. Not now. Please don’t let it hit me here.
A panic attack. I’ve gotten them on and off since high school.
The prize you get in exchange for the pressure of being an overachiever.
I’m supposed to be taking anti-anxiety meds but I can’t afford them.
Instead, I resort to raw-dogging my anxiety, holding it at bay by sheer force of will and luck.
I glance back, connecting with Koen’s gaze as he follows my path to the bathroom. There’s no softness in his eyes, just that familiar hard edge and overwhelming intensity.
I swallow, spotting the women’s restroom and darting into it.
Once inside, my hands grip the countertop.
I turn on the water, letting it run, but don’t touch it.
I stare at the water pouring out of the faucet, watching it swirl around the drain before disappearing.
I take a shaky breath before counting in my head, One, two, three, four…
. I focus on the sound of the water; it drowns out the sultry, sexy beat of whatever it is the DJ’s playing outside.
I keep counting in my head, five, six, seven, eight… Trying to ground myself.
“Hey, are you okay?”
I jump at the voice behind me, having not realized I wasn’t alone.
Whirling around, I find two girls talking further down the counter.
The one who spoke to me is leaning up against the far wall, the other is bent over the countertop, her face close to the mirror as she applies a fresh coat of lipstick to her lips.
“You look tense,” the girl applying lipstick says, assessing me through a side-eye as she continues with her task.
I swallow, trying to stay calm. The spike in heart rate at discovering them almost undoes all my efforts to calm it down.
“First time here?” one of them asks, tilting her head as she inspects me.
I nod, unsure of what to say.
They’re both dressed like me, in tight dresses and expensive heels. The first one—the blonde—smiles. It’s meant to be friendly, but her eyes stay sharp. “I’m Tara. This is Margot.” She gestures to the redhead who’s now wiping streaks of mascara I hadn’t noticed were running down both cheeks.
Tara releases a dark chuckle at my confirmation. “ The first time is always… a lot.” She smirks, looking at her friend through the mirror’s reflection. “You remember your first time, Margot?”
Margot huffs a laugh, straightening up. They’re both far taller than me in their heels. Tall and thin, like models. “Do I ever.” She rolls her eyes. “It gets easier, sweetheart, I promise.” She shoots me a jaded smile.
Tara pushes off the wall. “I know something that will help. Give me two minutes.” She gives my shoulder a reassuring shake as she passes me, exiting the bathroom.
Margot and I stare at each other for a minute.
“Do you want to touch anything up?” she asks, pointing to her open make-up bag on the counter.
I shake my head. “Oh, no thanks. I think I’m… good.” The last part feels like a lie. Am I good?
Filip, one of the Polish guys Koen and Liam are meeting with, hasn’t stopped leering at me all night.
Koen’s been ignoring his comments, but I’m terrified of what he’ll say if Filip proposes a trade.
Would he trade me? If it furthered his own agenda—I think he might.
He’d warned me in the car about the trading, but I hadn’t thought he meant I was on the table. Now I don’t know what to think.
And what the men had said about his brother Aidan… Koen had made it seem like their entire family is against this sort of thing, but what they said he’s been doing to that girl…
My stomach flips and I rush to the sink. Flipping back on the water, I splash some of it on my face this time.
My head snaps up at the sound of the bathroom door opening, finding relief when Tara slips back in, shouldering the door open, three double-shots of a clear liquid in her hands.
Margot brightens, dropping her eyeliner pen, her heels clicking against the marble tiles as she scurries over to us. “Ooh, gimme, gimme!”
Tara smiles, carefully handing her the glass on her right before offering the one in the middle to me.
I hold up my hands. “Oh, I probably shouldn’t—”
Tara hushes me, her hand snapping out and grabbing hold of mine, pushing the glass into it.
My fingers close around it so it doesn’t drop to the floor when she lets go.
“Trust me, it’ll calm your nerves.” She holds up her own glass.
“One shot. Helps take the edge off.” She smirks at me before exchanging a look with Margot standing next to me.
“You’ll feel better in a minute.” Margot nods, pinching her nose closed before downing her own shot. Screwing up her face, she gives Tara a little glare. “Ugh, vodka? Tara, really?”
Tara just shrugs, downing her own shot in one go.
I feel both of their eyes on me—the shot of vodka still in my hand. My heart is still beating wildly out of control, and the hand holding the glass shakes a little as a result.
Staring down at the glass, I weigh the pros and cons.
I mean… it can’t hurt, maybe it’ll help keep me from slipping into a full scale panic attack, which is probably the last thing I need to happen right now.
If I fall apart now, Koen might get annoyed enough and just leave me here in a huddled ball for the vultures to pick on.
“What was your name again?” Margot asks, but I haven’t told them yet.
“Briar,” I say.
“Bottoms up, Briar!” she hollers, shaking my shoulders a little in her excitement.
“What the hell,” I say, giving in, lifting the shot and downing it. I wince at the sharp burn when the alcohol hits my throat.
“Your night is about to get a whole lot better.” Tara grins.