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I continue running toward my bedroom without looking behind me. I don’t make it far before a hand reaches out and grabs onto my arm, yanking me backwards.
“We weren’t done, sugartits,” he growls, pulling me toward him. His fingers dig deep into my arm, and I flinch. “And that kick to my balls is going to cost you.” Air refuses to enter my lungs even as my chest heaves. It feels like I’m choking. The onset of a panic attack rising inside me. I have to get out of here. I have to save myself.
He moves to pin me against the wall once more, but before he gets the chance, I clench my fist as tightly as I can and swing around. My knuckles slam straight into his stupidity straight nose. Pain radiates up my arm, and I clench my teeth, holding back the snarl of pain.
I will not go down without a fight. I am done letting men treat me however they like. I am not a thing. I’m a person, and I deserve to be respected and cared for.
As soon as he registers my fist hitting his face, he lets go of my arm. His reflexes are slow as he swings his own fist at my face. Luckily, in his drunken state, I’m faster. Ducking just in time, I turn around and sprint toward Roman’s room, praying he’s there.
I haven’t seen him since we arrived, and I’m almost afraid he left me in this huge house with all these people. He wouldn’t do that, would he? I’m weak with need for him, more now than before. Worry consumes me with every step I take. I push my legs to run faster. The heavy footsteps echoing behind me act as fuel to my muscles. I just pray I can get there before he reaches me.
Just a few more steps. Two more steps. My heart beats furiously. Gripping the doorknob, I twist and yank it open. Time freezes, the beating organ inside my chest seems to stop mid-beat as if it too knows the heartache that’s to come.
“Roman…” His name spills from my lips like a sin.
“What the fuck!” The naked blonde straddling Roman on his bed screams as she turns, throwing daggers at me over her shoulder. I thought my heart was broken before. Whatever pieces were left shatter, leaving nothing but dust in their wake.
Chapter Seven
Roman
I blink, hoping my eyes are just playing tricks on me. I know I’m pretty high, but I’m not sure if I’m high enough to imagine Sophie standing in my doorway looking at me while I have this naked chick grinding on me.
I know I’ve done nothing wrong. I don’t owe her anything. We are not together, and I never promised her anything. I even went as far as telling her I was planning on fucking some random chick after the fight. I know all of this…but none of those things matter when I see her. Gut wrenching guilt invades my body. It’s so overwhelming, it pulls me from the foggy high surrounding me.
A deep sadness appears in her blue depths, hitting me like a bullet striking me straight through the heart. I feel my own heart breaking, the muscle ripping in two. I don’t fucking understand why. She means nothing to me…or at least she’s not supposed too.
But this…this stabbing feeling in my chest…she does matter—a fucking lot. It seems like she stands there staring at me for an eternity and then as if she was never there at all she’s gone, disappearing into thin air.
“Who the fuck is she?” The blonde on my lap pouts, but I don’t answer her. I don’t even think as I push her off my lap. She squeals and opens her mouth to say something but I’m already out the door consumed with need to reach Sophie and make things right.
I know I don’t have to tell her nothing happened, but I want to. I need to.
I look down the hall in both directions to see which way Sophie went but what I see next has my blood boiling. Hot fury, hotter than I’ve ever felt before grabs hold of me as I witness Ryan grab her by the arms. His hands on her snap something inside of me.
Sophie struggles to break free of his touch, and I can see the tears swimming in her eyes. My nostrils flare and I close the distance in three large strides.
Ryan’s eyes go wide. He releases Sophie a second before my hands wrap around his throat. I don’t see or feel anything other than Sophie in this moment. I’ve hurt her…he hurt her…and her father hurt her.
I’m tired of people hurting her. The fucker’s mouth opens as if he’s trying to say something, but I squeeze his windpipe, and nothing but a slow wheeze escapes his throat. I want to break him—snap him like the fucking twig he is.
