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“Throw them away,” he orders.
I step cautiously over to the trash can at the end of the room, dropping them in.
“What am I supposed to wear out?” I ask.
“Nothing. Now leave,” he commands.
I stop in my tracks, considering swallowing my pride and reaching back into the trash can for my underwear.
No, this has already been far too humiliating of a night. I refuse to sink that low.
I walk out into the hallway, the heavy bass from the club still reverberating through the walls as though nothing ever happened. The party will continue, and I will have to text Regan before she throws a fit about my disappearance and calls the police.
Akim doesn’t follow me out the door. He simply stays where he’s standing, watching expectantly as I leave.
4
Akim
Once I’ve been notified that my spontaneous fling has left the building, I head out onto the dance floor to aid in the apprehension of her so-called boyfriend Elliot and the woman he’s been cheating with, who I have to assume is Arielle. Even though I know it isn’t really my place, I find some pleasure in ruining his night after he’s ruined mine by causing a scene.
He isn’t hard to spot: he’s still licking his wounds off to the side of the dance floor near the bar, and a pretty but naïve looking woman is tending to his bloody face. Two of my bouncers are standing with them, making sure they don’t go anywhere or cause any further trouble.
When I walk up to them, fear fills the girl’s eyes, and the man looks more irritated than anything.
“Hi, I’m a little busy. Can it wait?” Elliot scoffs, pulling a wad of bloody paper towel from his nose and making a face.
“No, get the fuck up,” I growl, grabbing him by his shirt collar and lifting him off the barstool he’s seated on.
The girl screams, and I roll my eyes. “Jesus, calm down. You’re free to go, but I don’t ever want to see you here either. Consider this a warning,” I say.
She grabs her purse, barely bothering to shoot Elliot a sorry look before awkwardly teetering on her high heels toward the exit.
I drop him on the floor, and he doesn’t even attempt to get up. “Arielle! Don’t fucking leave me here!” he shouts, desperation and frustration straining his voice.
“You’re a real fucking piece of work, aren’t you?” I say, and I motion to my associate Rurik to come over.
“What do you mean? I didn’t do anything! My insane ex is the one who hit me first. I’m innocent here,” he pleads. “She’s just mad because her sister’s hotter than her. That’s not my problem.”
He pauses when he sees Rurik walking toward us. “Wait, what do you need him for?”
“Hold onto him,” I order Rurik, and he walks over to Elliot, putting him back on his feet. Elliot is much shorter than me, and I almost feel a twinge of guilt for what I’m about to do.
Almost.
I examine the damage to his face, and it’s clear that the first punch wasn’t hard enough to break his nose. My little minx can ride like a cowgirl, but she can’t throw a proper punch to save her life.
No worries. I can fix that.
I clench my fist so hard that my knuckles crack, pulling it back and punching Elliot so hard that his nose makes an audible cracking sound as my fist connects with it. He falls to the floor, but Rurik catches him. He holds his nose, screaming as blood begins to pour all over his shirt again.
“If you come back here, I’ll kill you, fucking pathetic freak,” I growl. “You’re cheating with your girlfriend’ssister?That’s reprehensible.”
Elliot puffs his chest, clearly taking the beating and harsh words straight to his ego. “That’s a big word for someone who doesn’t even speak English as a first language,” he says, suddenly feeling emboldened.
I grab him from Rurik’s grip and drag him across the bar to the back door of the club by his throat. My hand nearly reaches all the way around his skinny neck.
What a little bitch.
