Chapter 11
Alice Mendes
I’m heading back from the VIP bar when I feel someone’s eyes on me. I look up and, to my surprise, see none other than Oliver Ferraz checking me out. I know I’m pretty, and tonight I chose a dress that shows off my curves—I look damn sexy. But he’s my boss. How can he be looking at me like that?
I don’t know what came over me. Without thinking, I toss him a little wink. He stares at me with a weird expression, and only then do I realize—too late—that I screwed up. My face flushes with embarrassment.
I run over to Catarina, grab her hand, and drag her down toward the crowded dance floor. She looks at me, confused.
“What was that about? Care to explain?”
“Don’t ask me anything, girl. I just know I messed up and wanted to run out of there.”
“Miss Perfect, who never does anything wrong, who’s never even been kissed... What could you have done that’s so serious?”
I swallow hard.
“I winked at my boss.”
My friend’s eyes go wide and she immediately downs her entire drink in one gulp.
“Did I hear that right? You winked at Mr. Ogre?”
“Yes. He kept staring at me and I don’t know what came over me. That’s why I wanted to run.”
“And what good does running do now? You already winked.”
“Girl, you’re not helping at all!”
Cata lets out a loud, mocking laugh.
“Let’s dance—it’s one of the things you do best.”
And that’s what we do. We throw ourselves onto the dance floor, our bodies moving to the rhythm of the loud music. I’m focused on the movements when I feel a hand on my waist. I turn around and find myself face to face with a handsome stranger.
He grabs my arms and tries to turn me toward him. His hand slides to the back of my neck with an intimacy that makes me shiver—not from pleasure, but discomfort. I try to pull away, but he’s bigger and stronger.
“Relax, babe, we’re just gonna dance,” he says in my ear, his breath reeking of alcohol.
The smell makes me nauseous. I try to pull away again, but his grip won’t budge. I feel small, powerless at my measly five-foot-three.
I’m about to scream when suddenly he’s yanked off me. A firm voice cuts through the music.
“Let go of the girl. Didn’t you notice she doesn’t want this?”
The drunk turns around, irritated.
“And who are you to butt in? I didn’t see her with anyone.”
I look over his shoulder and see Oliver. Mr. Ogre himself, tapping the jerk on the shoulder. Before the drunk can finish speaking, Oliver lands a punch square in his face. The man falls to the floor, dazed.
Without giving me a chance to react, Oliver grabs my hand and drags me back to the VIP area—the place I never should have left.
“Stay here. And don’t you dare leave again if you don’t want other men coming after you,” he snaps, pointing his finger in my face.
I arch my eyebrows, annoyed.
“And who do you think you are, giving me orders? I can defend myself—you didn’t need to punch the guy.”
He gives me a mocking look.
“Yeah, I really saw how well you were defending yourself.”
“You don’t even know if I wanted to be there.”
A mix of anger and mockery flashes in his eyes.
“Then feel free to go back.” He lets go of my hand and walks away toward the bar.
I stand there, frozen. Idiot. That’s what I am. I should have at least thanked him. If he hadn’t shown up, I don’t even know what would have happened to me.
I look toward the bar. Oliver is leaning against the counter, his expression hard, filling another glass. I take a deep breath and walk over.
“I came to thank you for getting me out of there.”
He glances at me sideways, his gaze still hard.
“I just did what anyone should. I hate seeing men take advantage of women. But honestly, if you don’t want to go through that, dress decently.”
My blood boils.
“I’m in a nightclub. And my clothes don’t define who I am.”
He gives a half smile, infuriating and gorgeous, the kind that makes you want to punch him and kiss him at the same time.
“Oh no, of course not.”
I feel my whole body reacting to him. God, I’m losing my mind around this man.
“You’re just as much of an idiot as the rest of them.”
He doesn’t respond. He just shoots me a quick look and turns his attention back to the glass in his hand.
I down my drink in one gulp, fueled by anger and shame. Bad idea. My stomach is empty and the alcohol hits too fast. The world starts spinning. I need to get out of here as fast as possible.
I scan the dance floor for Catarina but can’t find her. I decide to leave on my own. I stumble down the stairs, my vision a little blurry. Outside, the fresh air hits my face. I grab my phone to call a car, but before I can type, someone snatches it from my hand.
Startled, I turn around.
“Mr. Ogre…” I grumble. “Of course it’s you.”
“I like the nickname,” he says with a smile. “You’re not going alone. You’re drunk. I’ll take you.”
“I’m not going with you, you ogre.” The words come out slurred.
He crosses his arms, unfazed.
“You can barely speak and you really think I’m going to let you leave alone?”
A car pulls up right in front of us. Oliver opens the door and says firmly:
“Get in.”
I obey without thinking, falling into the back seat. He closes the door, walks around, and sits beside me. I have a feeling I’ve gotten myself into trouble.
And as much as I don’t want to admit it… part of me likes it.