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She pushes a tray toward me and I wrap my fingers around the lip.
“I sincerely hope you’re right.”
I don’t feel his attention when I step back into the room, and I hate it. I’d somehow made him my safety net and the fact he’s no longer here. Well, I feel exposed. Which in and of itself is a freaking joke because I’m one of the least exposed here with my dress fully in place and my underwear firmly on.
“Ah, look. It’s the young one,” the letch from earlier, Grant, slurs as I get to his table.
Unlike when I first walked up to this table, his tie is loose and crooked, his shirt is untucked, his hair is a mess and his pupils are so huge I almost fall in.
“Are you having a fun night?”
“Great, thank you,” I lie as I hand drinks to the rest of the men at the table. The female card dealer gives me a sympathetic look, which I return. I’ll be able to walk away in a few seconds, she’s stuck with these vile men until they run out of money or get distracted. “And you?” I ask, hoping that if I keep him talking, he won’t consider doing anything else.
“Fantastic,” he slurs, “Although I can think of something that will make it even better.”
Before I know what’s happening, his hands are under my skirt and my feet leave the floor.
The two drinks that were still on my tray fly toward me, covering my stupid dress in whisky before I’m less than gently placed onto the creep’s lap.
Everything around me blurs and I try to fight him and his wandering hands.
Bile burns up my throat as tears fill my eyes.
“No, get off me,” I scream.
I’ve no idea what happens next, I’m in too much of a panic to register anything but the man’s roar of pain and then the fact that his hands are no longer on me.
Not willing to waste a second, I take off running without looking back.
My fingers grip the doorframe as I round the corner faster than my ridiculous heels can handle, and I almost slam face-first into the wall.
The front door is ahead of me, but there is a whole crowd of men and dancers who will never part for my escape, so I take the next best option. The stairs.
My legs burn by the time I get to the top.
There’s a long hallway running in each direction, reminding me just how big this house is and how out of my element I am right now.
There’s shouting downstairs, and in my need to hide from what I just caused, I bolt forward and shut myself into the first room.
A sob rips from my throat the second I’m safely inside, but to my surprise, no tears come.
My entire body trembles as I walk deeper into the room. There’s a soft light coming from somewhere, inviting me in.
I should realise my mistake the second I round the corner and the male scent gets stronger, let alone the sight of the football paraphernalia and the dark, masculine sheets. But I’m too relieved to be away from that creep downstairs.
Lowering my arse to the bed, I undo my shoes, telling myself that I’ll just give my feet a rest until things have calmed down and then I’ll sneak out.
A sigh passes my lips as I wiggle my toes and press my foot back into its natural position on the thick carpet.
My heart is still racing but as the seconds tick by, I quickly find myself calming down. The scent helps and I can’t help but wonder if it’s his room.
Pushing to my feet, I walk over to the dresser. My soaked, cold dress makes a shiver rip down my spine as I take in the impressive display of designer watches.
Just thinking about how much they all must be worth makes my eyes water. Just one of them could help ensure we have somewhere to live and food in our bellies for a long time, yet they’re just sitting there unused and unloved.
My teeth grind at the unfairness of it all.
Reaching out, I run my fingers over one of the more audacious designs. It screams wealth and money. It makes me wonder again if this is his room. He might have only said a few words to me earlier, but for some reason, I’m having a hard time matching him up with this.
