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“Don’t be so frustrating,” his nose flared. “I’m not asking you to stay at the penthouse, I’mdemandingit, and if you don’t agree, then tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that I’m not yours, and that he had every right to touch you. Tell me I shouldn’t fight for you, that I shouldn’t be so fucking pissed that all I want to do is drag you into the dark, push you against the fucking wall, and claim you in the worst ways possible.”
Either he wanted to scream at me, or possibly fuck me with punishment. Would he? I imagined so, hidden in the shadows, my Valentino dress ripped as he shoved me along a wall. This was his spell, a promise that trickled between my legs so many times before. I wouldn’t fall for it, I couldn’t.
“I need a drink, and don’t even think about following me,” I broke the impenetrable hold he had on my mind and body, not willing to concede or give up everything just because of his powerful effect on me.
He couldn’t conceal his grimace.
“I’ll be waiting…” he finally let out, lacing his words with a hunger that dug deep into my chest.
Alejandro tugged on the cuff of his suit as I left to lose myself into the crowd. A group of suited men approached his side, distracting him just like I needed in order to get away.
My face was warm with the rush of blood as I leaned against a small corner bar nearby, desperate for anything I could get.
“A glass of merlot,” I requested, glancing up at the tall, dirty blonde bartender.
“Right away,” he smiled, his hair combed neatly to the side, his green eyes similar to, but not as mesmerizing as Parker’s. The irony of this thought didn’t escape me, as I was confronted immediately.
“Do you want to take him too?” An annoyed huff bristled to my right.
“Why? Do you have your camera ready?” I turned to face Camilla, who rested her champagne on the bar by my side.
“Hope that didn’t cause too much trouble for you. It just hurts to see though, doesn’t it?” She pulled her hair behind her ear, mocking a sincerity that irked me.
The guilt I once felt for hurting her was now replaced with the desire to toss another drink in her face. What Parker and I did was terrible, and I could own that, but this reaction, this destructive spread of her leaked photo would have a much longer effect than I could even imagine.
“Whatever masochistic pleasure you got by taking that photo isn’t worth the trouble you’ve caused. Trust me, you’ve backed yourself into a corner, because Alejandro is dying to rectify what was done. And if New York Prestige insists on having any relationship with Alejandro in the future, you better believe that requests will be made.” I threatened her career, flaunting the pull Alejandro had on the magazine. If we wanted her out, we could make it happen, or more so, I could make her life a living hell. But I didn’t want any of that, all I wanted was for us to stay away from one another.
“There is always something bigger, Gemma…” she warned, unfazed by my bluff, “and trust me when I say this, I’m a much better journalist than I am a photographer. If you think I can’t dig up dirt on either you or Alex, then you have grossly underestimated me.” She lifted her champagne, excusing herself from the bar. “I’ll be watching you both.” She half-smiled before turning to leave, “Enjoy the party.”
I only had a moment to process her words, to feel a new wave of concern wash over me, as a glass of merlot crashed along the table.
“Shit!” I hissed, standing up straight, my hands raised to my shoulders. Bloody dark wine and glass poured from the bar and all over my dress.
“Oh my god.” The bartender hurried, lifting a clean rag from below the counter. “I am so sorry, I…” he babbled, quickly handing me a bottle of club soda. “Let me,” he said unfinished, rushing to my side, dabbing my dress in a fit of panic.
I blinked, still shocked as Camilla looked back, smiling at the ironic scene.
“It’s ok,” I took an accompanying rag and club soda. “I’ll take care of it.” I dabbed along my chest, blotting the darkened spots to no avail. The man persisted though, clearly in a haze, kneeling to my side to dab along my hips.
“I-I can’t apologize enough…” he stuttered, reaching for my thighs. His efforts were kind, but inappropriate, not fully realizing how his touch felt along my body.
“Thank you, but that’s enough.” He continued to dab the cloth along my thigh, pressing harder against my skin. “Enough!” I yelled, as his body suddenly lifted from the ground against its own volition.
I screamed from shock, at the sheer speed and strength that warped the bartender into a spinning blur.
“She saidenough!”Alejandro slammed the man onto the top of the bar, twisting his vest before firmly wrapping his hands around his neck, pushing into it with all his weight.
“Alejandro, stop!” Ivanna ran to our side, reaching for his back but unable to get his attention.
“What don’t you fucking understand?” he growled, emitting a misty haze of spit from the sharpness of his question.
I blinked frantically, stuck in a moment; fixated on the sight of his hands, strangling the man’s neck. He squeezed and squeezed, until his knuckles dissipated of color, matching my pale and queasy cheeks. The bartender’s face went from white to burgundy, his forehead bulging with a pulsing vein, as another bottle of wine fell to the floor. His throat began to collapse on itself.
“Alejandro, let go of him. Gemma, help me.” Ivanna looked at me, but I said nothing.
I stumbled back, stroking my neck, calming the rise of fear that clogged the path of air I so desperately needed. Everything echoed as I tried to look away, but couldn’t, seeing both Alejandro and a memory that scorched itself up from my head and down to my lungs.
I wish he knew, but he didn’t.
