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I shove my way inside the club, the pounding bass thumping against my chest like a physical manifestation of my anger. The strobe lights flash in time with the music, disorienting and infuriating me further. Sweat and alcohol are the perfumes ofthe night, making me gag as I push past gyrating bodies in search of Evelyn.
"Excuse you!" someone yells at me as I elbow them aside, but I don't have time to care about manners or personal space. My vision narrows, laser-focused on finding her before it's too late.
"Where the hell is she?" I growl internally, scanning the room for any sign of her familiar face. And then, finally, there she is—in one of the side booths, thankfully still clothed but looking far too pleased with herself.
I make a beeline for the booth, pushing people aside like they're nothing more than obstacles in my path. As I reach her, anger and relief war within me, but my fury has a stronger grip on my heart.
The moment I lay eyes on her, my blood boils. This sleazy bastard's hands are practically up her shirt, and she's just sitting there, letting him touch her like he has any right to. My fists clench at my sides as I stalk towards them, ready to rip her away from him.
"Hey," I snarl, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her off his lap. She looks up at me, a mixture of shock and confusion playing across her face, before quickly turning into anger.
"Constantino, what the hell are you doing?" she hisses, trying to pull her arm free from my grip.
"Saving you from making a huge mistake," I growl back, keeping my hold firm.
"What the heck, man?" the guy protests, trying to stand up and assert some semblance of dominance. Big mistake. In one swift motion, I pull out my gun and level it at his face.
"Wrong person to mess around with," I warn him, the cold steel of the gun leaving no room for argument. The fear in his eyes is immediate, hands shooting up in surrender. He backs away, stumbling over himself as he tries to put distance between us. Pathetic.
"Have a nice night," I sneer, watching him make a hasty retreat. I chuckle as the douchebag scrambles away, wondering if he's just wet himself. But then a smack to my face brings me back to reality – and Evelyn's fury.
"Put your gun away, Constantino!" she snaps, her blue eyes blazing with anger. I obey, tucking it back into my waistband. "What the hell were you thinking?" she slurs, her words slightly garbled from alcohol.
"Thinking of saving you from that piece of trash," I retort, trying to keep my temper in check. She doesn't seem to appreciate my attempt at heroism.
"Maybe I wanted to be with him," she bites back, swaying slightly on unsteady feet. "You never messaged me! Maybe I wanted something, anything, to make me feel...alive."
Her drunken confession catches me off guard. I know this isn't the place for us to hash things out, not with her half-drunk and surrounded by prying eyes. So, without another word, I lift her up and sling her over my shoulder. She protests, squirming and cursing me with every step I take towards the exit.
"Put me down!" she shrieks, but I ignore her and carry her out of the bar. Somehow, my car's still there, miraculously untowed. I toss her into the front seat, which only seems to piss her off even more.
"Let me out!" she yells, reaching for the door handle. There's no way I'm letting her escape my grasp now, so I grab some zip ties from the floor and secure her hands together, ensuring she can't get far.
"Really, Constantino? Zip ties? You always have to be so extra," she grumbles, glaring daggers into me. But I refuse to let her bait me, keeping my eyes on the road as I drive her back to the mansion.
"Sorry, princess,” I mutter sarcastically. "Next time, I'll just let you get groped by some lowlife in a bar."
"Wouldn't have needed to if you'd messaged me," she mumbles, the alcohol taking its toll. I can't help but wonder what that means – does she want more? Or is she just lashing out in her drunken state?
As we pull up to the mansion, I cut through the silence. "We'll talk when you're sober, Evelyn." I open her door with deliberate slowness. Her blue eyes still blaze with anger, and I can practically feel her frustration radiating off her in waves. I lead her inside, cutting the zip ties from her wrists as soon as we're through the front door.
"Happy now?" I ask, but she doesn't miss a beat – her hand connects with my face in a sharp slap. The sting of it only fuels the familiar rage that simmers within me, and I instinctively brace for another hit. This time, though, I'm ready. My hand snaps out, catching her wrist before she can land the second blow.
"Nice try," I growl, tightening my grip on her slender wrists as I lock eyes with her. That flicker of interest I saw earlier? It's back, and it's growing with every passing second. She's sobering up quickly, and it seems like she's finally willing to talk. "What the hell were you doing in that bar, Evelyn?"
"Having fun," she spits back, defiance shining clear in her gaze. "Something you clearly know nothing about."
"Fun?" I scoff, amused despite myself. "That's what you call fun? Letting some lowlife grope you in public?"
Her jaw clenches, and I can tell I've struck a nerve. "I wouldn't have had to if you'd just messaged me. But no, you left me hanging without so much as a word."
My mind races, trying to figure out what she's getting at. Does she want more from me? Or is this just some twisted game she's playing? Whatever it is, I can't deny the pull between us – the raw, primal attraction that seems to only grow stronger with each heated exchange.
"Look," I say finally, loosening my grip on her wrists but not letting go entirely. "We'll talk about this later. As I said, you need to sober up and get your head on straight."
Evelyn glares at me for a moment longer before wrenching her hands free. "I'm plenty sober, no thanks to you," she retorts, rubbing her wrists dramatically. "You're the one that made me go to that bar and now you're the one that's spoiling all of my fun," she grumbles.
My confusion has finally reached its limit and turned into anger. "I made you go to that bar? What the hell are you talking about?"
