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Philip, eyes wide as if in shock, gets to his feet, standing shorter than Grey but still over six feet. He squares up to him. “Sorry, um, who the fuck are you?”
“I’m the man about to take your date home with him,” Greyson responds, his voice a bestial growl. “And teach her a lesson in manners.”
His rage-filled eyes dart to mine for a split second. “Coat on.Now.”
“Do you know this asshole?” Phil asks me.
“I… He’s a fr—” Grey turns his head a little to peer down at me. “Look, I don’t know what you think you’re doing but you have no right to barge in and tell me what to do!”
“Oh don’t I?” he snarls. “Let me make it clear. You either get on your fucking feet and walk out that door, or I’m throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you out.”
“Like fuck you are,” Philip snipes as Grey turns to face him. “We’re on a fucking date, here.”
“Oh yeah. And who’s gonna stop me?” Grey asks, derision dripping from him. “You?”
But instead of speaking, Philip cocks his fist and lands a punch right on Grey’s lip, splitting the skin open as blood rushes out, though the movement of my “date’s” fist was slow and awkward and I kind of suspect Grey didn’t block it on purpose.
“Oh my God! Stop!” I shout, hurtling myself to my feet, pressing my palm into Philip’s chest. Leaning over, Grey shakes his head, wiping a trail of blood from around his mouth as Tom suddenly appears behind him with urgency.
“What the fuck,guys?”he asks, his eyes darting between the three of us.
Greyson, noticing my palm on Philip’s chest, grabs hold of my wrist, yanking my hand away and easing me behind him. He glares down at Philip whose eyes are wild, flitting all over Grey’s face, his body trembling, his hand seeming unsure whether to make another fist.
Before I can stop him, Greyson grabs for Philip’s shirt, pulling him mercilessly into him until his face is inches away.
“I would retaliate,” growls Grey, “but it would be a highly unfair fight, and I wouldn’t want yourdateto have to see your face turn into roadkill.”
Oh my God…
“Now,” he continues, his profile a storm of ire. “Are you leaving or am I calling the cops and pressing charges for assault and then calling my lawyer to start civil proceedings against you? I can have him drag you through courts for years if you like…”
“Grey,” Tom warns as the barman suddenly makes an appearance next to us from behind the bar.
“Do you know this lunatic?” sneers Philip.
“You either stop or you take this outside,” orders the barman.
Philip trembles before pushing Grey’s hand off him. “You know, fuck this!” He staggers back a little before grabbing his jacket from the back of the stool. “Have her. I knew the little prick tease wasn’t gonna put out anyway.”
As Grey takes an irate step towards him, Tom shoves him back as Philip, still breathless and outraged, grabs his phone from the bar and puts his jacket on.
Adrenaline still playing havoc with my body, I watch as he storms out, almost slamming into a waiter along the way, banging the door behind him.
“What is wrong with you?!” I exclaim, trying to keep from shouting.
“Coat on, Indigo.”
“Grey,” begins Tom.
“Now!” He turns to his friend. “My apologies to you and Brack for disturbing your evening.”
“To them?!” I scoff. “What about to me?! I’m the one who had to be subjected to your live caveman performance.”
“Coat,” he snarls before addressing the barman hovering over us from behind the bar. He takes out his wallet, adding another three hundred to make a total of five. “Does this cover the food, wine and inconvenience?”
The barman picks up the notes. “That’s plenty, Mr. Everitt.”
“Grey, how about if Carrie and I take her home?” suggests Tom.
