Chapter 32 Helpless
Helpless
My heart fluttered in my chest like a butterfly on crack. I hadn’t been this nervous since my own damn wedding.
I felt absolutely ridiculous standing in this obnoxious gown next to Darren in the elevator while he exuded his usual calm and collected demeanor in a custom-fitted black-on-black tux.
And here I was stressing about potentially tripping in these ridiculous heels on the shimmering floor-length emerald-green chiffon that wrapped high around my throat, conveniently concealing the fading bruises.
The sheer glittery sleeves stretched down to my wrists, intricate dark green lace beading cleverly placed to hide my brands of ownership. The sweetheart cutout teased a tasteful amount of cleavage while the bustier cinched too tightly at my waist.
Or maybe it was just my own panic that was making it difficult to breathe.
“Jaden.”
“Huh?” I nearly snapped, my stupid dangle emerald earrings swinging against my jawline.
“You need to relax. It’s a charity gala. Not a firing squad.”
I exhaled harshly. “Give it time,” I murmured back.
No one said it couldn’t morph into one.
Darren paused for a moment, cocking his head to the side and turned to me.
“I’m sorry, but didn’t you just not so long ago take on an entire security team of at least ten men and blow up their entire storage facility?”
My blood rushed at the memory. God, that felt like forever ago now.
“Yeah, I did that,” I replied with a reassuring nod.
He gave me a knowing smile. “Then I think you can handle this.”
“I just feel ridiculous.”
Darren gazed down at me from the corner of his eye, the snideness of his grin twisting into something warm and almost pleasant.
“But you look so damn beautiful.”
And then the elevator doors opened and the chaos commenced.
Swarms of people were everywhere. Colorful gowns flowed in all directions, men in expensive suits and tuxes, noise and chatter mixed with glasses clinking.
I had so much to pay attention to that my situational awareness went into overdrive to assess for threats and potential exits. But then a large, warm hand grasped my own, and suddenly, I remembered to breathe.
The first exhale was all the relief Darren waited for before tugging me along to the bar and ordering me a glass of champagne and a bourbon for himself.
A shot of tequila would have been more appreciated, but I accepted the glass with a long, discreet sip. My eyes glazed over the crowd, finding Scott, Clive, and Owen drifting along the outskirts, popping in and out of my peripherals but never far.
“Better?” Darren asked as he leaned casually against the bar and brought his glass to his lips.
“Yes, thank you,” I answered after my third sip, but my voice was not convincing.
Darren chuckled. “What could you possibly be afraid of here?”
My eyes bounced up to his.
You… Always you.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know, and I think that’s the problem. I feel unprepared.”
“Unprepared to do what? Behave and look pretty? So far, you’ve done a phenomenal job of at least one of them,” he said, and his eyes darkened. “I don’t expect you to require additional motivation to achieve the other.”
I scowled at his unnecessary threat, then immediately trained myself to soften my expression, not wanting to attract attention. I didn’t want to think of the things he would provide to motivate my behavior, especially knowing how much he would enjoy it.
I decided to swallow my anxiety down with the rest of my champagne, hoping it would make things marginally better.
But it wasn’t better. If only champagne could act as a decent painkiller with the meds I took earlier for the inflammation in my hip.
All that dancing and fucking the night before had really done a number on me, and Darren’s preference in footwear tonight wasn’t exactly helping.
I groaned internally at my weakness. I needed to get my shit together already.
Allowing my eyes to travel, I followed the sound of smooth yet rhythmic classical music being played by some incredibly skilled musicians, setting the scene for a soft evening. Couples twirled along the dance floor, moving in rhythm with the music.
What was this charity even for?
Darren cut my assessment short when he took my empty glass and placed it next to his on the bar. Taking my hand, he brought it up to his mouth and gently kissed my knuckles, his sensual dark blues locking with mine.
“Dance with me,” he said, a devious grin curving his lips. Naturally, it wasn’t a request
Ugh.
“Did we not just learn a valuable lesson last night about my dancing?” I chided as I pointlessly tried to pull my hand back. He kept it trapped in his own but lowered it to a more comfortable height. “I don’t want to cause another distraction.”
Darren smirked as he glanced down at my left hand, fingering my wedding rings. The same ones I had to scrub with a spare toothbrush last night to get all the dried blood out from between the stones.
“As long as you’re dancing with me, I’ll allow it,” he clarified, swinging his heated gaze back up to mine.
Darren didn’t wait for a response as he took my hand, wrapped it around his arm, and led me to the dance floor. I felt my nerves grate as my heels clicked against the hard surface, and I suddenly realized why this was so jarring.
The dress I was wearing, with sleeves long enough to cover my wrist tattoos.
The embellished fabric around my throat to conceal the bruises from Darren’s hand when he almost strangled me to death just days ago.
My hair and makeup professionally done. All of it added for one single purpose—to enhance the performance.
While this was a private event, I got the impression that it catered to a much more “lawful” crowd. People who were legitimate and didn’t secretly run criminal trafficking empires behind closed doors. Yet here we were, about to waltz right in like we belonged here. Like Darren was one of them.
It reminded me that even he was not immune to the required performances of society if he wanted to maintain an upstanding appearance outside of the criminal underworld he ruled.
The wolf in sheep’s clothing.
As we approached the dance floor, I recognized the song they started playing, the pretty strings of “Aurora” by Lindsey Stirling playing in the background.
I had a playlist of just her music that I loved to swing my bō to, the flow of everything so damn relaxing I could go on for hours without even noticing.
Quietly releasing a deep breath, I allowed Darren to pull my body into his and immersed myself into the performance alongside a dozen other dancing couples.
Smooth as water, he twirled me around the dance floor like he was made for it. He moved with a practiced ease, allowing me to follow his lead without effort or strain.
Even in the three-inch heels that barely allowed me to see over his shoulder, I glided over the floor without missing a beat. My body was automatically in tune with his, easily matching his pace and rhythm despite the dull ache in my hip.
For one small moment, I actually forgot about the performance and willingly spiraled away into whatever direction Darren chose to spin me.
When the song ended, the room stopped, an applause replacing the music as Darren twirled me for the last time, then pulled me into his chest. The clapping continued long after we stopped, and as I looked over, I noticed too many faces focused intently on us instead of the musicians.
“Why are they staring at us?” I asked quietly, nervous of the sudden attention.
“They’re staring at you,” Darren answered, almost smugly.
I frowned, glancing up at him. “What? Why?”
A warm grin curled up his lips. “When you look and move the way you do, how could they not?” He said it like he understood the compulsion, like he could sympathize with someone for once.
But they couldn’t just be staring at me. My gaze quickly hunted for my convictions, hoping he had to be wrong. And he was, catching the hungry looks of some of the other women in the crowd as they sized Darren up. And not so subtly either.
If they only knew.
Darren leaned down so that his mouth was touching my ear.
“They’re all fantasizing about you right now, and I have half a mind to lay you out on this floor so they can watch me fuck you until you’re screaming my name and coming all over my cock.
” His words made me suck in a breath, anxiously holding it to avoid reacting.
“By the time I’m done, there would be no doubts left in their minds that you’re fucking mine. ”
Without pause, he wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and kissed me like he was starving. His threatening words sent a shiver down my spine that made me hunch from the chill, my stomach clenching with apprehension.
It wouldn’t be the first time he fucked me in public, but it would be the first time with an actual audience.
When he finally pulled back, I could feel my lips swelling from the harsh flavor of his obsession, the taste of possession still lingering on my tongue.
His lips on mine had broadcasted a very clear message for all who could see, that we were both very much claimed by the other. And clearly it was enough to make everyone around us blush uncomfortably.
Thankfully, the musicians picked up their next song, causing the other couples surrounding us to start moving again, though some of them didn’t know how to focus on their own dancing partner.
I cursed under my breath. “I thought I told you I didn’t want to cause a distraction,” I grumbled quietly, then stepped back to flee. I had actually meant that part.
But naturally, Darren wouldn’t let me, refusing to allow me even an inch in the other direction as he tightened his grip on my body.
“You can distract them all you want, princess,” he said with a snicker. “As long as they understand I’ll kill them if they’re caught staring for too long.”
God, I wanted to roll my eyes.