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“Let’s not play games, dollface. A pretty young thing like you? I bet you’re from one of those special elite agencies. Tell me, how much are you charging him for yourservices?”
My stomach lurches. “You think I’m a prostitute?”
“Would you prefer the term ‘escort’? Look, there’s no way Peter has the pull to nab himself a hot babe like you. How much for a blow job?”
I shake my head in disbelief. I want to slap this man senseless. “I’m going to find Pyotr.”
When Richard doesn’t move out of the way, I push past him. With more speed than I thought he was capable of, Richard grabs me harshly by the wrist.
“Calm down, dollface. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. I’ll make you come way harder than he can. I’m a good fuck. Just tell me what you charge.”
I don’t bother hiding the way I cringe. “I’d rather burn my hands off, thank you.”
Richard’s grip tightens, his fingers digging into my skin with such intensity I yelp. “Listen here, you little bitch—”
“Pyotr!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “PYOTR!”
Richard hisses. “Shut the fuck up, you stupid cu—”
I hear him before I see him. The thunderous shake of heavy footfalls reaches my ears. As soon as I see Pyotr rounding the corner, I allow myself to breathe. I’ve never seen him more furious. Even after I ran away—both times—Pyotr didn’t look this angry. He stomps forward, wedges himself between Richard and me, and shoves the man so hard he falls flat on his ass with a pathetic whimper.
“Don’t you fucking touch her, Jones!”
Richard makes a show of groaning, rocking from side to side while clutching his shoulder. Definitely an over-the-top performance, but he’s drawing in quite the crowd—something I suspect he wanted from the very start.
“I… I think youbroke something!” he cries. “You son of a bitch!”
Pyotr stands in front of me like a shield. Even though I can’t see his face, I canfeelhis fury radiating off his back. I carefully reach out, my fingers grazing the curve of his clenched fists. He relaxes in an instant, turning to check on me.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” I assure him.
“You’re going to pay for this!” Richard hisses. “You all saw that, didn’t you? He assaulted me!”
I grit my teeth. “He did no such thing! Pyotr was defending me fromyou!”
Richard continues to huff and wail, greasy face contorting in pain. To be fair, he did land rather hard, but his overt reaction isn’t warranted at all. “I’m going to sue you! Someone call the police; I want a report filed. You’ll be hearing from my lawyers, Antonov!”
A couple of event security guards approach. Just when I think they’re going to help us and put an end to Richard’s show, they instead turn to Pyotr.
“Mr. Antonov, we’re going to have to ask you and your guest to leave.”
My jaw drops. “But we didn’t do anything!”
Pyotr carefully takes my hand and squeezes my fingers firmly. Is it a silent warning? Or maybe a gesture of comfort? I’m honestly too frazzled to tell the difference. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes seem to say,Let’s go.
I hate being escorted out. I’m embarrassed and indignant as we’re ushered out of the building. Whispers and judgmental glances follow us all the way out. If Pyotr’s bothered by it, he does a good job of not letting it show. Thankfully, Ben has pulled the car up to the curb so we can get in without delay. Thank God for the tinted windows and soundproofed doors because I really don’t want to deal with these people anymore.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur as we pull into traffic.
Pyotr sits beside me, as stoic as ever. “Did he hurt you?”
I rub my wrist, glaring at the angry red fingerprints that asshole left on my skin. Richard yanked on me so hard I can see the start of a bruise wrapping around my forearm. That’s not my biggest concern right now, however. Right now, I’m worried about the fallout and the ridicule I must have caused.
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
“Why are you apologizing? You did nothing wrong.”
