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I made it a few steps when I heard my name being called behind me.
"Why, Willow Avalon, what are you doing back here?"
I turned to find Mr. Remington and two guards walking toward me. The guards were flanking him, massive men in matching black suits, mirrored sunglasses, and matching boxy, muscular forms.
"I was looking for a bathroom," I stammered and tugged at my dress as if he could tell what I'd been doing in the room.
"That's strange," he said, coming to a halt right in front of me. He wasn't as tall as Alexander, but I still had to look up to him. He was a big presence, though. An authority figure who had been in complete control of his life for decades.
I could see where Alexander had gotten some of his features, the long, narrow nose of the upper crust and the strong chin with the dimple at the end. They had the same eyes, too, but the father's were dull and almost black as they looked at me without showing even one ounce of emotion.
"Why's that?" I asked.
"I could have sworn I just saw my son leaving this room," he said, grabbing my arm in his iron grip. He was clutching my bicep, and his fingers hooked cruelly into the flesh under my armpit, and it hurt. "He wasn't trying anything untoward on you, was he?"
"No," I stuttered and fought tears that threatened to cloud my vision. "I didn't see him. I told you I was looking for a bathroom."
He leaned in, and I caught the scent of alcohol on his breath. His was expensive enough to hide most of it, but he appeared pretty drunk. "We both know that's a fucking lie, don't we?"
I cried out and looked over his shoulder to the guards for help, but they stood there impassively as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening right in front of them.
"We both know he wants what's mine," Mr. Remington went on. "And we both know I'm the big fish you're really after, don't we?"
"What do you mean?" I gasped as he got closer, his face only inches from mine now.
"You're after money and power, and my family is giving it to you," he said, leering. "But what do we get in return? Tepid little pussies like yours are a dime a dozen, and your tits aren't exactly spectacular. So you know what I want, the deal we struck."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I snapped, at last, losing my temper as my usual simmering anger came back into place. "Get your hands off me!"
"That's exactly what you said the night of the accident," he hissed, and like a snake, his head sprung forward, and he locked me into a kiss.
His mouth was too wet and his tongue rubbery. His breath tasted disgusting, and I felt the vodka in my stomach begin to protest his very touch as it roiled around and threatened to come back up.
I struggled against him, pushing hard until he finally lost his footing and stepped back to steady himself.
"You caused the accident?" I asked, wide-eyed at the revelation.
"You did it to yourself," he said. "You got over-emotional and stormed out of my office. You wanted more money, it's always about the money with you, and I tried to take what belongs to me."
"I'll never belong to you!" I exclaimed and shoved him again. This time he stepped back into the arms of his waiting guards. They helped keep him from falling, and he got back on his feet as I tried to walk away.
"Get her," he ordered, and they moved with alarming speed. They caught up, each taking an arm, and they held me until he walked up again.
"You are foolish if you think you're making it through this unscathed," he said, and he held his finger up to my face, traced my jawline, and ran it along the outline of my lips. "Or unfucked. It's up to you how it plays out, but I know I'd like you to marry my son so I can have you in my bed."
He moved to kiss me again, and this time I was held tight by the guards. It wasn't sexy, and it wasn't hot, not like with Alexander, Rome, and Luke.
This time it sickened me and made me gag. But that didn't stop him. He kissed me again and stuck his rubbery tongue in my mouth.
I did the only thing I could think of.
I bit it.
I tasted the bright red hot tang of blood before I felt his scream against my lips.
He pulled back, and I spat a gob of bloody spit in his direction.
"Fuck you," I said. "Alexander would never let you."
