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Glancing over at Parker, I find him watching me closely. The look in his eyes has me dumbfounded. For a moment, I could swear that he looks scared. A look I’ve never seen on him before. As quickly as I noticed it, it goes away. His usual anger replacing it.
With shaking hands, Parker turns his attention back to the road, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say any of that stupid shit. I’m going to pretend because the alternative is dangerous, and I really, really don’t want to have to fucking hurt you. So, I’ll give you this one, Willow, but next time. Next time you mouth off or threaten me with leaving, I’ll be forced to teach you a lesson. One, you won’t forget.”
I don’t say anything else, knowing there isn’t a point. You can’t reason with crazy. After a beat, Parker navigates us back onto the road. We arrive at the country club in minutes, our conversation still looming above us.
People are already walking in. Men dressed in tuxes and women dressed in elegant dresses. Watch out party people, a much less elegant dress is about to walk in. “Behave, don’t make me have to do something I don’t want to.” Ha, like he wouldn’t want to. The guy is mental, there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do to me. One more reason to get away as fast as I can.
“I’ll behave since you asked so nicely.”
He puts the car in park, and I’m already out the door. I can’t be in this car with him for another second. The cold air hits my bare skin, and I feel like my whole body is one giant goosebump. I wrap my arms around myself and try not to shake, just as much as I try to ignore all the stares from people that pass by me.
Looking down at the ground, I pray that no one recognizes me. I should have colored my hair last minute or at least cut it. Did more than make myself look even more like a slut.
My thoughts are interrupted when Parker comes up to me and wraps an arm around my shoulder, tugging me into his side. I want to pull away so badly, but his body heat instantly seeps into my skin, and I can’t help but lean into him. Needing him sucks.
“Ready?” He whispers into my ear.
“No, but I doubt that matters to you.”
“I guess I could fuck you in the backseat of my car really quick if you’re not ready to go inside yet. Might do you good too. Loosen you up a bit.”
“Ugh, you’re a pig. Let’s just go.”
Keeping his arm wrapped around me, he guides us inside. I don’t think there is a person in this place who doesn’t gawk at our entrance. Great. I’m going to be the talk of the town. Exactly what Parker wanted, I’m sure.
We enter the club, and it looks as extravagant as you would expect it to. I do my best to look anywhere but at the people that pass by us, which is hard because there are a shit-ton of people. Parker stops walking, and a voice I know all too well pricks at my ears.
“Holy shit,” Warren’s voice is like razor blades against my skin. I don’t want to be noticed, gawked at, or inspected, but here I am like a goddamn alien.
“Stop staring,” Parker’s clipped tone gives away his agitation.
“If you didn’t want people to stare, then maybe you shouldn’t have put her in something else. Something that makes her look less like she belongs in a local strip club. High-end strip club,” he adds as if not wanting to offend me.
For once, I want to high-five Warren and say thank you, but I’m too distracted by his gorgeous companion.
Peeking up through my lashes, I find a girl with hair the color of gold attached to Warren’s arm. She looks as unhappy as I am, and instantly, I feel bad for her. I wonder where he found her. I’ve never seen her before, and I’ve never heard him talk about a girl either.
“Who’s the girl?” Parker asks the question I’m thinking.
“Oh, shit. Sorry. This is Maja. Don’t pay her any attention. I don’t.” Ass-fucking-hole.
“Parker…” I hear a deep voice calling from somewhere in the crowd. Parker turns, and since I’m still tucked into his side, I turn with him, coming face to face with Roger Rothschild.
Yeah, this night just keeps getting better and better.
The moment Parker’s father sees me, his face falls and contorts into something that looks like a cross between disgust and disappointment. I should tell him I wouldn’t look like this if it weren’t for his son, but something tells me Parker wouldn’t appreciate that.
The man looks like an older version of Parker, dark hair, dark eyes. It’s like I’m getting a glimpse into the future, at what Parker will most likely look like as an old man.
