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“I need to know you’re on board,” he says.
There is a loud noise. It sounds like glass breaking, and I jump to my feet without answering Atomic and bolt for the door. I’ve never rushed at the sound of glass breaking before, but with Shawn right outside the office, in the bar, I’m on goddamn high alert.
Then I hear a scream, and that’s when I break out into a full run. What I see isn’t what I expect at all. In fact, I stay where I am, unmoving, frozen in my place as I take in the scene before me.
What the actual fuck?
SHAWN
Poison makes her way toward me as soon as Elvis walks away with Atomic. I’m still standing at the bar, but I shift to the side, toward the wall. In hopes I’ll disappear into the darkness of the corner and, in some strange turn of events, her eyes will lose sight of me, and she’ll forget her mission.
It doesn’t work.
Her mission is clearly me.
She stops in front of me, dipping her chin slightly so she can look directly into my gaze. With her four-inch heels, she’s several inches taller than me. At this point, I think she likes that fact.
Her lips curve up into a grin. “Heard your man went to the strip club while you stayed here and cleaned,” she purrs.
God.
I already hate her, and I don’t even know her.
And I know that it isn’t fair of me to think that about her, considering I don’t know her at all. But I also realize that the way she’s coming up to me, the way her body language is, she’s clearly looking for an argument. She’s ready to fight… or, at the very least, argue.
Pressing my lips together, I try hard not to speak. It’s not that she intimidates me. It’s more that I don’t even want to be around her. She’s overbearing and obviously wants to be a bitch to me to get a reaction, something I really don’t want to give her.
This woman obviously thrives on drama, and I want nothing to do with it. Except, I don’t think she’s going to let me get out of it at this point.
“He did,” I reply with a heavy sigh. “Is that all you wanted to say?” I ask. “You wanted to tell me something that I already know in an effort to upset me?”
She narrows her eyes on me, and it’s clear that I’ve pissed her off, but I don’t care. She can be pissed off all day long at me. I wish she would turn around and walk away, crawl back into whatever hole she came out of, but she doesn’t.
Lifting my drink to my lips, I take a sip. The vodka burns on the way down my throat, but it warms my belly and then my blood. I’m feeling spicy and just waiting for her to say whatever it is she’s all hot to say.
“Just thought that you might want to know that your legs are not the only ones he’s been between today. And they won’t be the only ones tomorrow, either. King is fucking amazing, and I don’t plan on letting that slip out of my bed.”
I tamp down the anger because, at the end of the day, I don’t know Elvis very well, and it’s clear that this woman believes she’s got some sort of hold over him. Maybe she does. Maybe he’s selling me a bunch of shit. But I’m going to choose to believe him until I no longer have a reason to.
Which means this bitch can kick rocks.
“You need to turn around and walk away. I believe you’re not allowed to speak to me, seeing as I’m an old lady,” I state.
Her eyes widen.
“A what?” she hisses.
“You heard me.”
I know that this means something, not just because Elvis told me but also because of the way she’s reacting. Her eyes widen, her lips part, and she sucks in a deep breath, holding it for a moment. Then she lets it out and what I can only describe as rage crosses over her face.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” she asks. “You come here with your little fucking cakes, and you think you can just take a Dark Horse for yourself?”
I have no clue why she’s so pissed off, but she takes an aggressive step toward me, and instead of freezing, which is what I would do if it were my mother coming at me, I lift my glass and thrust it forward, splashing vodka and Sprite in her face.
She screams, and so do I, mostly as a knee-jerk reaction more than anything else. She grabs the empty glass from my hand and takes a step backward, pulling her arm back, ready to launch the glass at my face. I duck just in time. It smashes against the wall behind me. I think about laughing at her, but I don’t have an opportunity.
Without even taking a breath, she launches toward me, acrylic nails clawed and ready. I’m not a fighter. It’s not something I want any part of, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to defend myself.
