Chapter 16 #2
I narrow my eyes at him, questioning if that was what he was really going to say or if he’s saying it to placate me. “Champagne makes you feisty,” he comments with a grin, and takes my hand to lead us to the bar.
Four clear, potent shots are lined up on the bar top and set alight. Lottie and I start the countdown.
“Three.” Denham raises his eyes to the ceiling and mutters under his breath and I laugh at him. “Two. One. Go!”
His face is a picture. I know he’s not new to doing shots, but I’m guessing it’s been some time since he downed something like Sambuca, and I feel happy that I’m responsible for corrupting this little part of him.
“Now we dance.” I grab his hand, kiss him hard on the lips, and lead him to the dance floor.
I know I’m being over the top. I know all of my movements are exaggerated as I’m trying to block out the rest of the people in this room …
one specific person who may or may not be in this room.
But I’m determined to pretend he’s not here and show him that I will live my life, I will pretend that he never existed and all the good things that I have right in front of me are all that I need.
The alcohol helps us all loosen up. I’ve watched Denham dance with hearts in my eyes and lust in my body.
I’ve slow danced with him, when his warm body is pressed against mine.
It’s true that God gifted these boys with everything.
Between him and Spike, they cover every desirable trait you would look for in a man.
They’re both sexy, in very different ways.
They both wear a suit like a second skin.
And they can both dance like Channing Tatum.
They have moves for every song that is played, and Lottie and I have a great time dancing with them and letting them do their own thing.
They feed off of each other when the music is playing, and I notice lots of people watch them too.
When the band stops for a break, we stop dancing to grab a drink.
Under the circumstances, I didn’t expect to let loose enough to have fun like that, but I’m so pleased we did.
It goes a long way in showing us that maybe this is possible.
We grab some more champagne and find a table. Denham sits and pulls me onto his lap.
“You look fucking edible this evening, Ari,” he growls into my ear.
I place my hand gently on the side of his face and run it around the back his neck, looking deep into his eyes and pulling him in to meet my lips.
I move in close, just a whisper away, and let my tongue tease between his partly open lips.
He groans and pulls me in tighter to kiss me hard.
He kisses me with such passion that at first I don’t register the voice behind me.
“Oh, aren’t you both cute?”
Amy.
Denham stiffens, and I drop my head into his chest and sigh.
When I turn, I wish I hadn’t. It’s not just Amy. She’s tucked into the arm of … Jonny, or James, or whatever the fuck he’s called himself these days.
I don’t know whether to laugh or throw up.
Denham jumps up so fast, I stumble to catch my balance, but Lottie and Spike are at my side quickly so I have enough support to find my feet.
“We’re leaving,” Denham grates out, grabbing my hand and stepping forward, putting his body between Jonny and me.
Jonny holds up a hand in his path. “Mr. King. Isn’t it?” He uses his public voice. The one that’s neutral. Non-threatening but authoritative.
“I said, we’re leaving,” Denham repeats.
“D. Baby. I think you should at least speak with Mr. Ellis here,” Amy drawls. “I thought it was about time I introduced you to the man behind the money,”
Oh shit.
“I’m sorry,” Jonny offers. “Amy isn’t making herself very clear. I’m your investor, Mr. King. So, I suppose that makes us … business partners?”
It’s like the band knew when to stop playing, and the interim music ceases too.
She sold him out. When she knew she wouldn’t get anywhere with Denham, she sold him out. But not only that. She sold him to the Devil himself.
“You whore!” I screech.
I tear my hand from Denham’s and rush toward her.
Momentarily, she looks shocked but as I approach, she sneers.
I sink my hand into her long, peroxide hair extensions and yank her head backwards forcing a yelp from her.
Denham and Spike rush to pull me from her, but just as they pull me free, Lottie dives in.
Her little balled up fist lands in the corner of Amy’s mouth and splits her lip open before Spike grabs her and wraps his arms around her body, trying to keep her contained.
She’s still kicking and screaming, but Spike whispers in her ear and she quiets, even though her nostrils are still flaring.
“I see nothing changes, Arianna,” Jonny remarks calmly.
“You don’t get to talk to her,” Denham snaps. He pushes me directly behind his body, broadening his shoulders so he’s a wall between us.
“Oh no? Well, that’s where you’re wrong. Did she tell you what she did?” he asks, still with his composed facade in place.
Well, this is news to me. I place my arm around Denham’s waist from behind him, hoping he can reign in the anger I can feel bubbling through him. I need him to handle this.
Amy slides her slender hand in the crook of Jonny’s arm, and he gives her a loaded smile.
“Well,” he announces, “I won’t bore you with the details. But I wouldn’t pin your feelings on this one if I were you.” He nods in my direction and smirks.
“You don’t get to talk to her or about her. Do. You. Understand me?” Denham leans right up close into Jonny’s face, spitting the words through his teeth, and barely keeping his composure.
“Hey, man,” Jonny retorts, holding his hands up in between them. “She didn’t tell you? Just letting you know, one guy to another. You got cash, she’s a loose cannon.” He swings his hands out to the sides, then lifts his shirt, “I’ve got the scars to prove it …”
I stare blankly at his stomach. A scar at least four inches long marks the left side of his torso, and he’s crediting me with this?
This is enough to tip Denham over the edge.
Lottie screams, and Spike pushes her out of the way while he tries to reach Denham, who lunges forward and catches Jonny by the throat.
Even while Denham is pushing him, thrusting him backwards against a stone pillar Jonny is insistent even through Denham’s vice like grip.
“You’ll see.” His eyes slide to mine. Perfectly composed. Cold and calculated. “You’ll see.”