CHAPTER 2
Grant
Hazel raced down the staircase to the front entryway. As soon as the doors closed behind her, I should have sighed and given her the chance to get away. If only for a minute. The picture message she had shown me earlier wasn’t a concern; it was likely a friend playing a prank. And yet my instincts were in full force, egging me forward: Follow her.
Damn it.
I grabbed my wallet and keys and exited myself. In the lobby, the elevator number tracked to the ground floor. From my view in the windows, I watched Hazel cross the street, her blond hair a beam of pure sunshine, when she was an angry hornet underneath. She opened the doors to Pretty Lush, a high-end cocktail and tapas bar. I took the same path, entering the bar from the front. Hazel was easy to spot. With her back to the door, she was sitting at the bar, her hair gleaming in the dark atmosphere. I took a booth in the far corner and put my sunglasses on.
Zaid had recently sold Veil Security Services and transferred me more money than I needed, making me a billionaire overnight. It was strange to realize that I was likely the wealthiest person in the room. I had never wanted that kind of money. My duty was to help Hazel, which meant, for the time being, giving her more than she desired. I couldn’t exactly trust her yet. I didn’t know her background. If she ended up in jail or a hospital, I would be screwed too. My official position in Veil Security Services was dissolved, but Zaid’s disappointment alone wasn’t worth the risk.
A few men approached Hazel. Some offered her drinks, and others sat by her, kindly talking, until they realized that she was choosing to ignore them. Then a man in a business suit swung a barstool out, the metal legs clanging on the ground, and sat next to her. Directly next to her. His chin jutting, his button-up shirt thrust out. She turned towards him and smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, and they shook hands. He ordered a round for the two of them. I watched the bartender make the cocktails and hand them to Hazel and the man. Hazel gave a devilish smile, and pulled the man’s arm so that he bent forward. She whispered in his ear. He squeezed her thigh.
What was it about this guy that she decided to say ‘yes’? He wasn’t the first to approach her, and certainly not whom I would have expected. Every man in this place was in dress clothes, except for me. If she wanted to go screw some random guy, go right on ahead. That was her business. But she didn’t make things easy.
Two hours passed, the sun gone from the windows, night creeping in. I nursed one round of whiskey, but Hazel and the man? They were on their fifth round. Hazel was swaying, a drunken grin plastered on her face. As far as I could tell, she hadn’t spotted me. She was too busy coaxing the businessman into whatever plan she had for the rest of the night. I’d pick up earplugs on my way back.
Should I leave her here? Trust that she could handle herself?
Right as the thought crossed my mind, the man pulled her wrist yanking her into his lap, and she laughed, but pulled away, hesitation in her movements. I sat up. He grabbed her wrist and groped her. Right there in the middle of the bar. A switch had gone off in him. Hazel’s smile twitched, but never strayed. Louder now, she said, “Yeah, I think you’ve had enough, tiger. Thanks for the evening, but I’m going to pack it up now.”
I stood up, inching my way closer.
“No fucking way,” the man said. “I paid over two-hundred bucks for these stupid cocktails.”
“I never asked you to.”
“You owe me.”
“I don’t owe you anything,” she said, standing up straight and backing away.
“You said you wanted a man to fuck you. Rough. Mean. Treat you like a whore.”
“Not in the bar.” She shook her head. “You’re too much for me right now. We can try another time. When we’re not so drunk.”
He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her in close, leering down. “I’m going to treat you like the whore you are.”
I flexed my arms and tapped him on the shoulder. Hazel’s eyes widened at seeing me. The man turned around.
“We’re busy here. Find another stool.” He turned to Hazel. I gripped his shoulder.
“She’s not interested,” I said.
“Grant?” Hazel asked. “What are you doing here?”
“Is this your boyfriend?” the man asked.
“No. He’s—”
“Her bodyguard,” I cut in. “I’ll give you three seconds to leave her alone.”
He snarled. “I kickbox, bro. You don’t scare me.”
Well, I should have. “One,” I said.
He pulled Hazel into his lap. “Hey, let’s cut it out for tonight,” she said. “This is getting weird.”
“Two.”
