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My eyes flood, and I glance away, evading the building rage. ‘I feel—’
‘As God as my witness, Izzy, I will rip my club to shreds until I find an answer.’
I shrink, wholeheartedly believing him. ‘Please,’ I beg, for no purpose other than stalling him. He’s going out there whether I tell him or not, and I don’t doubt for a moment that he’ll hunt down what’s got me in such a state.
He pulls my face up, his lips straight with impatience. ‘The man in the tacky black shirt,’ he says. ‘I’ve seen him before. At Stan’s tattoo shop, in the waiting room. Who is he?’
I lose my breath, giving myself away. ‘He’s no one.’
‘Don’t lie to me, Izzy. I had Stan give him a free pass to the Playground.’
‘You invited him here?’ I gasp. ‘You exposed me to him knowingly?’ I can’t devote one second to the fact that I have completely failed in my attempt to keep Theo in the dark. I’m too shocked.
‘My men have been watching him since he arrived. I needed to know if it was him who got you all anxious that day at Stan’s. Now I do.’
‘Watching him?’ I question in disbelief. ‘He just dragged me through your club and cuffed my face!’
His jaw ticks wildly, and I know his men will pay for their failure. ‘Who is he?’ Theo asks, more calmly than I know he’s feeling. ‘Tell me who the fuck he is.’
‘Trystan,’ I choke, looking away. ‘He was a client at the strip club I . . .’
He sucks in air and drops me from his hold, stepping back. His body is vibrating, and I know this is just the beginning of his rage. Just the sparks before the explosion. ‘What did he do to you?’
My eyes close, air burning my empty lungs. I feel defeated. ‘He . . .’ My words are lost on a sob.
Theo reaches and touches my cheek, and I flinch, not because it hurts, but because I can feel his burning anger. ‘Tell me.’
‘He raped me,’ I reply quietly, the words weak and loaded with shame.
Sparks of anger bounce around the room. ‘No,’ Theo whispers. ‘No, no, no.’
I nod, feeling so hopeless, weak, and dirty. I see in my mind’s eye the way he looked at me; I feel the soft touches that turned into hard punches when I dared flinch. The knife he had no control of. I fought his intentions. And I have scars on my stomach to prove it. ‘He used to watch me every day at the club. Then one night he followed me after work. I woke up in a hospital.’
I hear Theo’s inhale. Virtually hear his mind working fast to grasp everything. ‘The police?’
‘The doctor called them.’
‘And?’
‘And I didn’t talk. Refused the internal examination.’ His face bunches, like he doesn’t get it. Doesn’t understand why I wouldn’t talk and accept help. ‘I was a stripper, Theo. The club was nothing like the Playground. The clients were nothing like yours. I was ashamed of myself enough, without having others judge me and tell me that I asked for it. I just needed to get away. I needed to put it behind me and move on, not be dragged through questioning and interrogations.’ I take a breath to finish. ‘And I didn’t have someone like you to protect me, either.’
He swallows, and it’s a hard swallow. ‘The hospital was your safe place. And when I lost you your job, I took that away from you.’
‘You didn’t know.’ I register his increasingly quaking form. ‘Theo.’ I move forward, ready to reason with him, to stop him from doing what he’s already planning in his mind. But he steps away from me, out of reach. He doesn’t trust himself. His control is being hampered by rage. And in this moment, something dawns on me. Something I hate. ‘Where is Trystan now?’ I question. Theo’s men were watching him. They were on the way to the lobby when I passed them.
‘Being held by security.’ He doesn’t hold back. ‘And now after what you’ve told me, what he did to you, he’s a fucking dead man.’ He stalks out, too fast for me to gather myself and make a grab for him.
And I stand there for a moment, staring at the door closing behind him. He’s a fucking dead man. ‘Theo!’ I come to life, racing after him. ‘Theo, no!’ I yell, my distress crippling.
He starts pulling off his suit jacket as he prowls through his club, throwing it into a booth as he passes. Callum catches it out of pure reflex. ‘What the fuck?’ he asks, scrambling out of his seat, leaving Jess looking bewildered.
‘What’s going on?’ Judy asks, approaching, her eyes on her son’s back. People are scurrying out of Theo’s path as he strides through the club, murder etched across his face.
