Chapter Twelve #2
Throughout the meal, his hand rests on my thigh under the table. When I try to shift it away, his grip tightens. During the speeches about the charity we’re here to support, his thumb traces circles on my leg through the fabric of my dress. I hate every second.
“I need some air,” I whisper when dessert is served.
“Perfect,” Preston says, standing. “The gardens are much more private.”
The way he emphasizes “private” sets off warning bells, but Mom is watching us, and the last thing I want is to cause a scene.
The garden is strung with fairy lights, and under different circumstances, it might be romantic. But Preston’s hand is immediately back on my lower back, and he’s steering me away from the main path toward a more secluded area near the rosebushes.
“This is better,” he says, turning to face me. “No audience.”
“Preston, I think we should go back—”
“Relax,” he cuts in as his hands settle on my waist, pulling me closer. “I know we just met, but I can tell there’s something special between us. Your mother will agree.”
“What?” The word comes out louder than I intended. “You discussed me with my mother?”
“She’s very eager to see you settle down with the right man. Someone who can take care of you properly.” His hands slide to my hips, holding me in place when I try to step back. “I think I’m exactly what you need.”
“You don’t know anything about me or my needs,” I snap.
Preston’s smile falters. “Don’t be difficult, Skye. I’m offering you what most women dream of—security, status, a good life.”
“Let go of me.”
“Come on.” Instead of releasing me, his grip tightens. One of his hands moves to cup my face, his thumb brushing across my cheek. “You’re just playing hard to get, and I like that about you.”
“I’m not playing. Stop touching me.”
“You don’t mean that. Your mother warned me you might be stubborn at first. She said you’ve been going through a rebellious phase.” His hand slides from my face to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my carefully styled hair.
“Preston, stop. You’re hurting me.”
“I’m not hurting you. I’m showing you what you could have with a real man instead of the men you’ve been ogling all night.”
“Take your hands off what’s mine.”
I turn at the voice, and my mouth falls open in a gasp. Silas stands there, glaring at Preston’s hand, murderous possession in his eyes.
“Who the hell are you?!” Preston snaps.
“I’m the man who is going to break your fucking hand if you do not remove it.”
Preston scoffs. “You are the help. One scream from me and you will be arrested.”
Still stunned by Silas’s words, I gape as he moves forward and grabs Preston by his throat. “Remove your fucking hand.” He squeezes tighter until Preston releases me, and I back away from them until I bump into a hard body.
“Hey, cashmere.”
Kain.
Zay appears beside me with a smile. “Hey, pumpkin.”
Silas lets go of Preston’s throat, and before he even sees it coming, he rams his fist into the handsy dick’s face. “Touch her again, even with her consent, and I will bury you. First financially, then with the law, and I will keep it going until you have nothing left to live for.”
“Shit,” Zay says. “People are coming—we need to leave.” But before anyone can move, a voice cuts through the garden.
“What exactly is going on here?” My blood turns to ice. Alexander, my stepfather. Mom appears behind him.
“Mr. Hawthorne,” Preston stammers, his hand still pressed to his bleeding nose. “This man attacked me for no reason.”
Alexander’s gaze slides from Preston to Silas, then to Kain and Zay beside me, before finally landing on me. “Skye. Inside. Now.”
“I don’t think so,” Kain says. Alexander’s eyebrow raises. No one normally dares to question him.
“You have three seconds to remove yourself from my property before I have you removed.”
“You can try,” Zay says calmly.
“Alexander, please,” I say, hating how small I feel when he is around.
“Preston was . . . he wouldn’t stop touching me. I asked him to stop.”
“That’s something to discuss privately, not something that warrants this kind of spectacle.” My stepfather’s expression doesn’t change. “Mr. Thorne, I suggest you clean yourself up and rejoin the party. We’ll speak later about this.”
Preston scurries away, leaving me alone with Alexander, my mother, and my three masked men.
“You’ve made your point,” Alexander says to them. “Now leave before this becomes a legal matter.”
“We’re not leaving without her,” Zay says.
“Then you’re not leaving.”
I can hear voices getting closer, guests coming to see what the commotion is. In seconds, this will become a scandal I will never live down.
“Go,” I whisper to them. “Please. Just go.”
“This isn’t over,” Silas snaps.
“It is,” Alexander says. “And if I see any of you near my stepdaughter again, you’ll regret it.”
The first guests come around the corner, and Mom immediately goes into damage control mode. “Nothing to worry about. Just a small misunderstanding. Please return to the party. The champagne fountain is being lit.”
As the guests are moved away by my mother, Alexander’s hand clamps around my upper arm. I notice Silas’s hands ball into fists and his jaw clamps shut tight.
“We’ll discuss this in my office,” Alexander says. “And Skye? This little rebellion act of yours? It ends tonight.”
Kain lunges and expertly removes Alexander’s grip on my arm, then he lifts me and throws me over his shoulder.
I squeak at the sudden movement, but I don’t protest being carried away.
There is no way in hell I want to hear a lecture right now about ruining a potential match and embarrassing the family name.