Except it’s literally my job.
“—Letushandle the Astor side. And you can handle the Wentworths’. Understand?”
This is a threat, isn’t it?
Jesus.
I didn’t realize he’d be bold enough to do this. At a party. My parents’ party. But I guess alcohol has loosened his tongue.
I exhale sharply, stepping back half a foot, and proceed with a calm I absolutely don’t feel. “We need to do what is required, Gareth. This merger is a major undertaking and I am responsible for overseeing the Astor Capital Fu—”
Suddenly his face twists. He doesn’t even afford me a second to flinch as he lunges.
His fist grabs a handful of the fabric of my dress—right between my breasts. Then he slams me back into the wall. My head snaps against it, pain blooming behind my eyes.
What the fuck? What—
My breath catches. Shock and panic taking hold. I need him off me. My eyes dart around the still empty hallway.
“When I say, mind your business, little Cece, I mean it. Don’t make that mistake,or else.” His voice is low and venomous, almost slurring. His breath is thick with alcohol and cigarettes, enough to make mestruggle against a gag.
He shoves me again, harder. My back aches against a random framed painting hanging behind me, and I feel his palm—sweaty, clammy—pressed against my chest.
In a blink, he’s gone. Mumbling something incoherent, he stumbles away, gait swaying enough that he can barely walk in a straight line.
But I’m frozen in place. Still pinned to the wall. Still trembling. Heart racing, breath shallow. My entire body is screaming with pain.
What the hell just happened?
My fingers shake as I adjust my short hair. It’s easily tamed, usually. But now, every movement feels jerky and unnatural. My vision is blurring. And the hot tears? They’re already spilling down my cheeks.
Shit.
I can’t go back there. I can’t go back to forced smiles and champagne flutes and Odette fucking Astor pretending the world revolves around her. Not when my skin is still crawling from being shoved into a wall by a man of his stature. Not when my head is pounding from the hit my head took. Not when my body still remembers the pressure of Gareth’s hand—on my breasts.
My ears are ringing. My breath stutters.
I fumble through my purse, desperate for something to ground me. My keys. I just need to get in my car and breathe and—
Wait. Levi drove me here.
I freeze, a sharp wave of dizziness rushing through me. I shouldn’t be driving like this anyway. I know that. But I also can’t stay here. I can’t go into that room full of people and pretend I’m fine. I can’t dothe polite head tilts and glass clinks when I can’t even see properly.
I can’t see, dammit.
My eyes refuse to focus on anything, darting around like I’m underwater. My chest is tightening. That familiar, awful pressure is closing in.
No.No. Breathe.
Only until you get home, Cece.
I stumble forward, clutching my phone, barely able to hit the Uber app. The ride confirms in under a minute, but it feels like a year before it arrives. When it does, I almost crumple with relief.
The car slows to a stop and I rush forward like it’s a lifeline. I yank the door open, voice barely audible. “For Cece?”
The driver nods. That’s all I need.
I slide into the backseat like someone’s chasing me. Like terror itself is clawing at my heels. But I know better. It’s already here. In my chest. Clenched around my lungs. Digging its claws into my breasts.
