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The low grumble of warning, and then—
"What's going on here?" A familiar voice sounded behind her and then a warm arm was wrapped protectively around her waist, dragging her away. Saving her.
"Does Natalie know you?" Dominic narrowed his eyes and Brooks, then his gaze lowered to where Brook's hand draped around her waist.
Rage flashed in his eyes, but if Brooks noticed it, he didn't let on.
"I'm her boyfriend." Brooks said.
"Is that so?" Dominic smiled like a predator who'd spotted wounded prey.
"Yes."
"She didn't mention having a boyfriend. Funny how that works. If you don't mind, we were having a private discussion."
"Didn't look like much of a discussion to me. And if you don't mind my asking, who the hell are you?"
The crowd who'd been so heedless of her peril earlier had suddenly become enthralled by it. Every couple in the nearby area had glanced toward them, whispering to each other about the proceedings.
Old friends pointed between herself and Dominic, probably explaining their mysterious separation to each other. Others pointed to Brooks, likely wondering if she was his newest flavor of the week.
It was the stuff of society scandal.
But for Natalie?
For Natalie, it was her worst nightmare realized.
"Brooks, let's go, okay? We don't need to do this." She tugged on his sleeve, but his attention was for Dominic alone.
"What I am to Natalie is a private affair."
"I beg to differ." In an instant, his hand was gone from her waist, fisting into a ball at his side, waiting for Dominic's next retort.
Dominic took a step toward him, his predator's grin growing bigger by the second. "I promise you, you don't want to be involved."
Brooks matched his step. "I promise you, I do."
Dominic's smile softened, and then he turned his attention to Natalie, eyebrows raised. "Is this what becomes of you when you're left on your own? First, the skimpy outfits and money-grubbing in Vegas, and now you're a high society whore?"
As far as Natalie could tell, Dominic was on the ground before he saw the punch coming. Brooks shook his hand for a second, evidently easing the knuckles before he got on the floor and continued to thrash at Dominic, swinging so hard that spatters of blood flicked the ground nearby.
Dominic attempted to hit back, and though he landed one punch, he was no match for Brooks.
That, of course, was when the cameras began to flash. The crowd who'd been unobtrusively watching before was now out-and-out staring at the men, a few of them shouting as Dominic writhed and kicked.
The blonde who'd been with Brooks reached the surface of the crowd and was cheering for him at the top of her voice, her long island accent thick and astringent.
Natalie tried to pull Brooks away more than once, but he'd apparently lost himself in the moment, thrashing at his opponent until the police broke through the ranks and cuffed each of the men in turn.
Brooks shouted for Natalie as he was shoved through the crowd, and she watched him, unsure whether to shuffle along behind or stay where she was.
The lights of the cameras blinded her, and soon even if she'd wanted to follow him, she wouldn't haven been able to find her way. The women around her tugged on her dress, asking her questions, trying to search for clarity.
In truth, she wouldn't have minded a bit of clarity herself.
It had all happened so fast. First with Brooks and Franco, and then with Dominic.
She should never have come here. She should have gone with her gut and stayed home, out of the spotlight.
