Ten
ZAC
SITTING in my office, attempting to get an hour’s worth of work done while Alyssa is on the VIP floor of the club, wearing that fucking dress—a dress I plan on fucking burning as soon as it hits my bedroom floor tonight—is pure torture.
I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t think I’ve done anything productive since I came in here forty-five minutes ago.
My eyes drift to the flat screen on the wall, where I am viewing the security footage of the very floor Alyssa is on.
I can’t help but watch her; she’s mesmerising.
Not that she realises how goddamn beautiful she is.
I’ve watched many men attempt to get close to her in the short time I’ve been up here, each time being intercepted by either Dean or James.
I was prepared to break my own brother’s bloody arm when I saw him with that arm around her. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’ve never been so irrational before, never been so infatuated with a woman before that it feels like I can’t breathe properly unless I’m with her.
When she had that panic attack in the car tonight, my heart felt like it was being ripped to shreds.
I’ve never wanted to hold anybody together so badly; I would have done anything to take her fear away.
It would be so easy for me to have Dean run a background check on her, find out all the secrets she holds and what the fuck happened to her to cause such fear.
I don’t want to find out about her that way though. I want her to trust me. If I go digging around in her past and she found out, well, I don’t think she’d take that very well. I just have to be patient and wait for her to open up to me, to let me in.
Patience is not something I’ve been known to have, but for Alyssa, I’m willing to give it a go.
As I watch her on the screen, I don’t think there is anything I wouldn’t do for her, or die trying to do.
She’s laughing, dancing with Reilly or Holly—I really can’t tell which is which with those two.
Sarah is dancing with some random guy. Bray and Dean are sitting, nursing drinks and watching Alyssa and Reilly.
The fact that they're getting a front-row seat, watching my woman dance like that, in that fucking dress, makes me see red. It should be me getting that front-row seat, not any other fucker… even if I tasked them both with the job of watching her.
Groaning, I turn back to my computer screen. I’ve been trying to read over the events planned for the next few weeks. I don’t know what the fuck Caitlyn was thinking when she booked the same band for two weekends in a row. The same fucking band that was now missing a drummer.
Picking up my phone, I dial Caitlyn. The call goes straight to voicemail. “Where the fuck are you? We’ve got a problem with Cyrus. You should know better than to book the same band two weeks in a fucking row. Fix it. Get them off next week’s schedule and find a replacement act.”
Hanging up the phone, I look back at the flat screen. I’m on my feet as soon as I see what’s happening. Moving closer, I scan every monitor for Alyssa. I can’t fucking see her anywhere. What I can see has me running out of my office and down to the VIP floor.
Down on the VIP floor, I push my way through security. Not that I have to try hard; as soon as they realise who’s pushing through, they fucking move out of my way. Stopping at the section that Alyssa should be, I turn in a 360, seeking her out.
Turning back, my gaze lands on Sarah. “Where the fuck is she?” I yell at her. She flinches but shakes her head, tears running down her cheeks.
“Fuck,” I growl, turning back around.
I should be concerned with who the fucker is that Bray has pinned under him. He throws punches like his life depends on it, although whoever the fuck he’s laying into is all but lifeless under him. Dean steps up and pulls him back. I still can’t see her.
Charging up to Dean and Bray, I demand, “Someone needs to tell me where the fuck she is, now.” I’m on the verge of a fucking nervous breakdown.
Why the fuck can’t I see her? She should be here.
I’m running my hands through my hair when Dean finally speaks up, “James took her up to your office when shit hit the fan. She should be in your office, man.”
“Fuck!” I’m yelling at no one in particular. I look over at Dean and quickly bite out, “Bring them up to the office. Alyssa will probably shoot me if anything happens to her friends in my club.” I point back to the three women huddled together.
Throwing my office door open, I find Alyssa on the couch, holding an ice pack to her face. I feel my blood go cold. I am seething; someone fucking hurt her. As I walk towards her, I can feel my body vibrate with rage at the thought of some fucker laying hands on her.
James gets up from where he was sitting next to her. Just before I reach her, I hear Caitlyn from the other side of the office.
“Zac, thank god you’re here! I tried to tell them they couldn’t be in here. I told them to leave and they wouldn’t listen. James should know better than to bring some floozy up to your office.”
Alyssa sticks her head up. She looks back and forward from me to Caitlyn—whatever she is thinking, it’s not good. “James, get her fucking out of my office,” I tell him, motioning to Caitlyn. He nods and moves towards her, pulling her out by her arm.
If I thought she’d go quietly, I was mistaken. “Zac, you called me, remember? Told me you needed me? I came straight away.”
I’m still staring at Alyssa; she’s dropped the ice pack and I can see a large bruise forming on the side of her face.
I can also see the doubt clouding over her eyes as she stares at Caitlyn, who is not so willingly being shoved out of the room.
I need to fix this and set things straight. I can’t have Alyssa doubting me.
“James, wait.”
James turns around and halts his steps, still holding onto a now smiling Caitlyn. She won’t be smiling for long. Smirking at her, I slowly articulate every word so that they are not misinterpreted.
“Caitlyn, I called you because I pay you to do a job. A job I fucking expect you to do, but since you seem more concerned with placing yourself where you don’t belong, you’re fired for inappropriate conduct. Don’t bother coming back.”
Nodding at James, I watch as he escorts her out of my office before shutting the door and leaving me alone with Alyssa.
Squatting down in front of her, I grab her face in my hands.
She flinches as my hands go up to her face.
I hate myself instantly. I hate that she would fear my hands.
Sliding my hands as gently as I can along her cheeks, I try my darndest to reassure her.
“Sunshine, I would never hurt you. I don’t want you to ever be afraid of that.
I would cut my own hands off before I used them to cause harm to you.
Please tell me you know this, please.” She looks at me and nods her head, but that’s not going to work for me.
“I need the words, sunshine. I need to hear the words.”
In an ever so quiet voice, she says, “I know, Zac. I don’t know how I know, because I hardly know you, but deep down in my bones, I know you won’t hurt me.”
I sit up on the couch next to her and pull her onto my lap. “Baby, I need you to tell me who hurt you. I will make sure they can never lay a hand on you again,” I say, kissing her forehead.
“I don’t know what happened. I was dancing with Reilly when someone came up behind me and grabbed me. I knew instantly it wasn’t you, so I turned around and kneed him in the balls.”
I’m so fucking proud that she stood up for herself.
I can’t help but smile. “Sunshine, I’m glad you kneed the fucker in the balls.
I think I need to give you a gun. That way, on the very near impossible chance that any fucker ever gets close enough to touch you again, you just shoot them. ” I lay kisses over her hairline.
She tucks her head into my chest. “It would be dangerous to give me a gun, Zac. I was kicked out of at least ten foster homes for what the department liked to call physical misconduct.”
Again, she has brought up her childhood and it sounds like a fucking nightmare, but we don’t have time to hash that out right now.
“We will come back to that topic later. What happened after you kicked the fucker in the balls?” I need to know how she got that bruise on her face, so I know how painful to make this fucker’s death.
“He backhanded me,” she says so matter-of-factly. I feel like this is not the first time this has happened to her.
Well, never fucking again. I will not let anyone hurt her again, even if I have to be her personal fucking shield twenty-four seven.
She continues, “Then before I knew it, James was picking me up off the ground and Bray was on top of the guy laying into him. Did you know Bray can really pack a punch?” I laugh a little at her question, and she looks up at me, waiting for an explanation.
“Sunshine, Bray is a cage fighter. Underground fighting and currently undefeated. Yeah, I know he can pack a fucking punch. That right hook of his earns me a lot of fucking money.”
I watch her face to try to gauge her reaction to this news. She surprises me when she laughs. “Of course he is. Do me a favour, and let’s not tell Reilly that bit of information, please.”
At that moment, the door swings open and the woman in question asks, “Don’t tell Reilly what?” She looks at us and before either of us has a chance to reply, she’s answering her own question… sort of.
“Oh, wait, let me guess… Don’t tell Reilly that you’re going to run off and elope and live HEA?” she questions.
“What the hell is HEA?” This comes from a very rough-voiced Bray.
Reilly spins around, facing him. “Something you’re probably going to deny yourself of ever having,” she says.
I can tell he still has no idea what she’s referring to, but he drops it. Reilly spins back around and at my head nod, she continues her guessing game.