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Chapter13
Trash, where you belong
Avani
He’s nice, I guess. A little nicer than I expected.
He orders me wine and then water. Tells me about his job and how much he loves it. Proceeds to ask me about mine—I don’t tell him exactly what I do, just that I run the front office of a club. When men hear you work in a sex club, their first train of thought is, this will be an easy fuck.
“So, do you want to go somewhere after this?” he asks as my phone buzzes. When I glance at the screen, I see it’s Destiny asking for some of the possessions she left behind.
She’s going to flip her shit when she finds out I threw her stuff in the trash.
I’m about to reply to my date, but when I raise my eyes from my phone, I see that he’s face down on the table with a hand on his neck. And it’s none other than Grayson holding him there.
“What are you doing here?” I hiss, anger flaring inside me.
“You refused to see me, to see this,” he replies hotly.
I shake my head at him. Refused. What is he talking about? The man starts to swear, and everyone in the restaurant is watching us now.
“Grayson, let him go.” I stand, and his eyes roam over me as he continues to pin my date to the table.
“Watch who you fucking date next time. He plans to roofie and rape you.” He growls. Yes, he goddamn growls at me.
“Did you just growl at me?” I ask, a bit taken aback. And then I look to my date. He wouldn’t have…would he? I fix my eyes back on Grayson. “How do you know this?”
“I watched him slip something into your drink. If you opened up those pretty fucking eyes once in a while, you would see all men are pieces of shit.”
“I know they are, so what does that make you?”
“Your fucking savior.” He applies more pressure to my date’s neck as two waiters walk over. They attempt to restrain Grayson, but he grunts at them, shrugging them off easily. My date is swearing at Grayson, but Grayson doesn’t even care.
“Check his pockets. I bet he has more than one date rape drug on him.”
“I’m not checking his pockets.” I scoff.
Grayson looks to the waiter on his left.
“Check this man’s pockets unless you want to be sued for allowing a woman to be drugged in your establishment.” The waiter does so without having to be asked twice. He reaches into my date’s pocket, and two small tablets rest in his palm when he pulls his hand out.
I stand there, numb. No. No way.
As I lock eyes with Grayson, I’m sure he can see my shock and fear. His hand is still on my date’s neck when he leans down to his ear.
“You should run, or the bogeyman might get you,” he whispers, but it’s a deadly threat if I have ever heard one. I had heard that’s what he’s called. He’s as dangerous as he is beautiful.
I’ve yet to see him be dangerous, but I can verify that he is a beautiful asshole.
Without another word, I grab my bag and jacket, then head to the exit. I don’t wait for anyone.
If I were drugged…
I’ve been drugged many times against my will, and I’ve worked through a lot of other triggers, but that one is one I had hoped to never live through again.
“Avani,” Grayson calls out from behind me.
“Go away,” I shout, hugging my shoulders. I should have brought a warmer jacket. And I should have driven myself.
