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The bedroom Blue had guided me into was sparse, containing little other than a fluffy bed that looked like it’d been freshly made, a set of drawers, and a chair. Thankfully, it had a connecting bathroom with water.
I needed cold water.
That was what was going to soothe the burn.
At least, I hoped it would.
I’d already stripped off my sky-high heels, refusing to also break my ankle tonight if I fell, but when I finally made it into the bathroom, I furiously tugged at the button on my shorts and ripped the zipper open.
I sucked in a deep breath, holding it captive in my lungs as I slowly attempted to slide them down my legs without having them brush against my thigh.
It was impossible.
“Fuck,fuck, FUCK!” I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth, holding my breath for ten seconds, waiting for the sting to subside.
Round two, I managed to get my pants around my ankles. I shuffled back from the mirror and turned, my entire body cringing as I looked over my shoulder and eyed the almost inch-wide circular burn decorating the back of my thigh.
Thankfully, it didn’t look like it was more than a surface burn, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.
I pinched my eyes closed, squeezing out a couple of tears as I tried to convince myself to get in the shower. It felt like the back of my leg was on fire, and I needed to get it under some water and cool it down. It would ease the sting and keep it from getting infected.
And who the hell knew what else Robert had burned into my damn skin when he’d tried to shove his gross hand between my legs.
I should have known better.
I know these types of guys.
I can read them, but my brain was too fucking focused on one man in particular.
I should have known better.
I knew how shit worked.
I should have kept my mouth shut.
Played his little game and walked away.
The result—no security for opening night.
How much trouble was I in now?I wasn’t sure.
“You in pain?”
I gasped, grabbing the wall to keep myself steady. Did I tell him? Did I just excuse myself and handle it on my own? It was my mistake, my stupid pride that had now cost the club.
“Don’t fucking bullshit me, baby.”
I hated that he could read me that well. “Yeah.”
He pushed off the bathroom door frame. His gaze was stern and dark. “Where?”
Sucking in a slow, deep breath, I turned.
It didn’t take him long.
“That a fucking burn?” he seethed, the air changing as he stepped up behind me and crouched down. His fingers brushed the side of my thigh, and I gasped, my hands curling into tight fists. “This why you slapped the fucktard?”
“Yeah,” I croaked before clearing my throat. “Idiot tried to shove his hand between my legs with a cigar in his hands.”
