Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Trouble With A Capital T
Raf
They’ve been gone for about ten minutes, and even though I’ve consumed enough scotch that I should be feeling chill as fuck, I feel like ants are crawling all over me.
I have no idea where she is or what she’s doing, and for whatever godforsaken reason, I feel a sense of responsibility for her.
What if she was too drunk to consent? What if she just fucks him to get back at me for being an asshole?
This is a curse of being the eldest. Of being the responsible one, even when you have no business to feel a sense of duty. You do. For everyone. Her included.
What the hell was I thinking? I mull this over as I replay the heated vitriol I spat at her.
Even to my mind’s eye, there’s no mistaking the heated overtures.
It was evident she saw and heard it too, in the flare of her emerald-green eyes and the way her cheeks flushed and chest heaved as recognition dawned.
Even so, she turned and walked away from me, and something about that impressed me as much as it infuriated me. She’s got a backbone.
Suddenly, the music cuts, and Seb’s voice comes over the PA telling everyone to exit quickly and safely. There’s some kind of emergency.
“Raf! Have you seen Chiara?” barks Marco, concern etched into his face as he roams his assessing eyes around the room, taking in the scene around him. “I’ve tried calling her and she’s not answering.”
“She went off with that dickhead friend of Luca’s she was dancing with,” I tell him. “She told me she can fuck who she wants, when she wants.”
“And you let her go off with him?” he asks me incredulously.
“Well, she’s not my client,” I state tersely, except the words are at odds with the tightness in my chest.
“I need you to find her,” he demands, pointing a finger at me. “And I need you to look after her for me, take her back to your house if need be. Just don’t let her out of your fucking sight. I don’t know what’s going on, but I have a bad feeling about it.”
I nod and make my way around the VIP area, which is starting to smell strongly of gas.
I’m moving in the opposite direction to the throngs of people who are trying to make their way out, the hum of “What’s going on” and my brother’s cool, collected voice reminding everyone to keep moving towards the nearest exits calmly creating a soundtrack against the thumping of my pulse in my ears.
I call her phone as I go. She doesn’t answer, so I call again.
And again. Maybe she left with him, I think as her husky voicemail recording comes over the line. I listen for a third time.
“Hey, beautiful. You’ve reached Chiara. I’m busy being fabulous, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Mwah.”
Surely she would have told someone if she was going to leave, but I don’t have time to pause to make calls to any of the girls.
I’m feeling a little light-headed myself as the smell of gas gets stronger.
I keep pushing through, headed to the bathrooms to check in the little alcove there.
As I round the corner, I see familiar golden hair against the black paneled wall, and a girl who most definitely is not Chiara fused to Hudson’s mouth.
I rush at him, pulling at his arm to get his attention.
“Where the fuck is she?” I growl.
He gasps as though he’s trying to get air, his eyes wide in surprise, looking at the girl and back at me.
“Sh…She went into the bathroom,” he stammers, pointing at the door opposite where we stand. “She said she didn’t feel well, and the next minute—”
I cut him off with my fist.
“Fuck man! I didn’t touch her!” he exclaims clutching his jaw, while his new conquest looks on.
“Her loss. I just knew you’d be a good kisser,” the girl says to him in her posh British accent. “Shame we were interrupted,” she emphasizes glaring at me.
“There’s been a gas leak. Get out now,” I demand, not waiting to see if they move. I am already striding across to the bathroom door and jiggling the handle. It’s locked. “Chiara! Chiara, are you in there? Chiara!”
No answer. Fuck. What if she choked on her own vomit or fell and hit her head and is lying in pool of her own blood?
The panic starts to rise, and before I can run any other scenarios in my head, I’m snapping my leg up and kicking the door down.
I stand in the doorway, looking into the bathroom, confused that it appears empty.
I scan the space, and that’s when I see her.
A spot of red, curled into herself, dark hair fanned out on the marble floor around her.
Eyes closed but long eyelashes fluttering against the high point of her cheekbones.
She looks so…small. So broken. The curve of her ass teases me, the merest hint of it peeking from the bottom of her minidress.
I avert my eyes, even if my body tells me it’s taken note of her creamy smooth skin, the way it might feel in the palm of my hands.
I shake my head as though to rid myself of the intrusive thoughts.
What the hell is wrong you? First you proposition Juliette, then you threaten to spank the woman you can’t stand, and now...
now you’re out of your mind with worry for her.
This is not you, Raf. You don’t let your feelings control you.
You think before you act. You don’t react.
You don’t let people in. Especially not people like her.
My phone buzzes with a message. It snaps me back to reality. The urge to just ignore it is strong, but I assume with what’s going on, it could be Marco or Seb. I pull it from my pocket and see it’s from Avery, Marco’s right-hand man at Vault Enterprise. I decide to deal with it later.
Chiara’s muffled groans snap me back into action, and I pocket my phone, moving quickly and scooping her into my arms effortlessly.
I cradle her against my chest, using one arm to firmly pin her dress under her ass.
No one has the right to that magnificent sight.
No one but you? That tiny voice from within makes itself known again. I ignore it, clawing for my control.
“Shit, mate! Is she okay? Here, let me get her home.”
I slowly turn my body towards where that stupid drawn-out accent now elicits the same response as that of fingernails scratching down a chalkboard.
Pinning Hud-fuck with my best death glare, I say low and slow, “Don’t even think about fucking touching her. Now or ever again.”
“Mate. Listen. It’s not…fuck. I know it looks…Please, just let me get her home safely.”
“One. I’m not your mate. Two. She is safe. With me.”
“Oh, wait.” I watch as understanding dawns in his face. “Are you two a thing? Luca didn’t—” I watch on as he butchers whatever this speech is he’s trying to give, not letting him off the hook. Watching him squirm brings me peace.
“Look man, I didn’t know you two—” He gestures between her body in my arms and me.
Marco appears then.
“What are you all still doing here?” he demands, until his eyes land on my precious cargo. “What the fuck happened to her?” he seethes, turning his focus on Hudson too.
Blowing out a breath, he continues. “She was flirting with me, and Luca just told me she’s a cool chick and to go for it. One minute I was about to ki—”
I cut him off then. I’ve heard enough.
“The next you were tongue-fucking another girl against the wall while she was passed out in the bathroom. Just get the fuck out of here.”
He raises his hands in surrender and risks one more glance at Chiara in my arms before trudging out. I make a note to tell Luca his taste in friends is about as good as his taste in women. My anger is palpable. Out of my control.
“Raf. I need you to take her back to your place. I know she’ll be safe with you, and I’m going to be tied up here for a long while.”
“What about her cousin’s house? Wouldn’t it be better if I drop her off there?” I try hard to come up with a solution that will serve as a reminder as to why I need to control my feelings and actions.
“The last thing she would want is for me to alert AJ to this situation,” he says, nodding his head towards her limp body. “After tonight’s reaction to her proposed relocation to New York in front of her new boss, I think I owe her that.” He shakes his head, like he’s silently berating himself.
“Okay. I’ll make sure she sleeps it off and gets home safely tomorrow.” I see a hint of a question in his raised brows, but I don’t indulge him with an answer.
Instead, I nod at him and make my way towards the parking garage where my driver waits, holding more than I bargained for in every sense of the word.
Every possible problem and consequence to come from it has this hellion of a woman at its center.
Except she looks nothing like that version of herself right now.
No, this version of her, soft and safe in my arms, makes her even more dangerous.
Not for the first time, I consider why I’m putting myself so close to the fire when I should be doing everything in my power to run as far away as possible.
Instead, with Marco’s words ringing in my ears, and with our friends concerned yet bemused expressions on their faces that I of all people oversee her caretaking, I gently place Chiara into the back seat and slide in next to her, putting myself even closer to the inferno.