I stalk toward JT in angry strides, watching as he stares at the drink that he's now set onto the bar with a satisfied smile. Just when I'm a foot away from him, his head comes up and makes eye contact with me. He smiles at first in welcome, but when he sees the look on my face, it slides right back off.
I grab the drink, step up on the foot rail at the bottom of the bar, and lean over it, pouring the drink out into the sink on the other side.
"What the fuck?" JT says with indignation.
I slam the glass down and my hand shoots out, grabbing a fistful of JT's shirt and tie. I haul him away from the bar and start pulling him toward the exit. People scramble out of our way, most with looks of surprise that the two owners of The Sugar Bowl seem to be on the verge of a fistfight.
He tries to shrug me off but I hiss at him, "You follow me the fuck out of here right now, asshole, or so help me God I'm going to call the police over what you just tried to do."
JT immediately goes still and I give him a hard shove toward the exit as I release my hold on him. He goes stumbling for a moment, then catches his footing. He looks around at everyone staring and holds his hands up, "Nothing to worry about, folks. Just a friendly tug-of-war over a Sugar Baby."
He gives a smarmy grin, and the closest people who heard that laugh nervously. I don't laugh and give him a rough push to his shoulder, sending him stumbling again. That gets JT moving and we walk quickly out of the ballroom. JT doesn't look at me but walks directly to the men's bathroom. I follow him in and he turns to face me. I can tell by the quiet of the room that it's empty except for us and I lunge at him. Now grabbing fistfuls of shirt, jacket, and tie, I push him back across the tiled floor several steps until his back slams into the wall and he grunts from the pain.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Beck," he says, and I pull him away and slam him back again.
"You sick fuck," I snarl at him. "You just fucking tried to roofie that girl. What in the ever-loving fuck is wrong with you?"
I am so furious right now I almost feel like I could kill JT. I see the glaze in his eyes from drugs and alcohol, imagine what he would have done to that girl tonight, and I see my entire empire starting to crumble down around me. I see nothing of the man I thought I knew within his fogged gaze. A man that I thought was just like me, but I'm starting to realize was nothing more than a foolish pipe dream.
"Relax, bro," he says calmly. "It was just to loosen her up."
"You goddamn idiot motherfucker," I yell at him, and drop my hands away. I raise one up, point to him, and see it's shaking. "You are going to bring us down, JT, and I'm tired of this shit. I want you out of this company. I want you gone and you can go do whatever sick, perverted shit goes on in that head of yours away from me, but I'm not about to let you pull me down with you."
"You can't force--"
I cut him off by grabbing him again, pulling him away from the wall, and slamming him back into it. His eyes go wide with fear. "Just shut the fuck up. Now I want you to walk your ass out of this hotel and get in a cab and go home. If I see you go back in that ballroom, I'm calling the cops and it's over for both of us."
It's not an empty threat this time. I'm now prepared to do whatever I need to do, ideally to get JT out of The Sugar Bowl, but at the least do what it takes to protect that woman tonight.
"Fine," he rasps out, and my hands drop. "Fine, I'll go."
"You be at the office tomorrow at eight a.m. and be ready to iron this out," I tell him as I run my hands through my hair in frustration. "This shit is done, JT. I'm not kidding."
"Fine, okay...whatever," he says, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'll get it under control. I promise."
I point toward the door. "Go home, JT. Now."
He grabs onto his jacket at the lapel, pulls on the material to straighten it out. He then straightens his tie and nods. He turns toward the door and starts to walk out.
I remind him. "Tomorrow...eight a.m., JT. We're settling this."
"I'll be there," he mutters, and then he's gone.
I take a few moments, collect my thoughts, and take a few deep breaths, but I'm still shaking with anger and frustration as I head back into the ballroom. Sela sits at the bar, her eyes locked on me with worry the minute I walk back in.
When I reach her, her hand comes to my chest and she asks, "Is everything okay?"
I huff out a sigh, pick up my drink, and take a healthy slug. Setting the glass back down, I scrub my hand through my hair again and shrug. "I don't know."
Sela's hand grabs on to mine. She stands up from the stool and gracefully places her feet on the floor. Tugging at me, she says, "Come on...let's dance."
I don't want to fucking dance.
It's the last thing in the world I want at this moment, but I don't want to drop Sela's hand either, so I follow her in almost a trance out to the dance floor. When she reaches the middle and turns into my arms, I realize a song with a slow beat is playing. Sela steps into me and one of my arms goes automatically around her waist; the other takes her hand and brings it to my chest.
She curves one hand behind my neck and strokes me softly as she whispers in a reassuring voice, "Just relax and cool down."
I look down at her as she stares up at me with earnest eyes filled with concern. My heart rate immediately takes a nosedive as I feel her hand on my neck and smell her peach lotion. I let out a huge pent-up breath of frustration and then give her a tired smile. "Sorry you had to see that."
She shrugs and steps in closer to me. Her eyes are round, clear, and filled with respect. "Honestly...what you did. How quickly you reacted. It was the most amazing thing I think I've ever seen in my life."
I try to make light of it, because the way she's looking at me both embarrasses and humbles me. "I was just trying to impress you so you'd sleep with me tonight."
She gives a tinkling laugh, her eyes bright with amusement. "That was already a given, Mr. North."
I can't resist. I lean down, capture her lips with mine, and give her a slow kiss. She sighs into my mouth and my arm around her waist tugs her in tighter to me.
Feels so fucking good holding her like this.
Dancing.
Kissing.
Just magical.
I pull my lips from hers and before I can even comprehend what I'm doing, I tell her, "Let's do away with the agreement."
Sela jerks in surprise and her lips draw down in dismay. "You want to end things now?"
"God, no," I tell her quickly with a nervous laugh, reeling her back in close. "I mean...the time frame. It was only for a month. Let's do away with that."
"You want me to stay in your condo?" she asks hesitantly. "Like move in for real?"
"Well, yeah...sure," I say, now not completely positive what I want or if this is the right thing to do. "I mean...your stuff is there, why not?"
She rolls her eyes at me. "Well, gee, Mr. Romantic...how can a girl pass up that offer?"
I laugh, give her a quick kiss, and then tell her, "Sorry. That wasn't very suave. What I mean is that I don't want you to leave in two weeks when the agreement is over. Okay?"
Sela's blue eyes go a shade deeper as she stares at me in solemn consideration. Finally, she tips her head in agreement. "Okay. I can do that."
"Excellent," I say, and then bend down to kiss her again.
Sela rests her head against my shoulder and for a few moments we just sway back and forth to the music. Another thought strikes me. "Next week is Thanksgiving. My sister and niece are going to visit for a few days."
"Want me to go back to my apartment while they're here?" she asks quietly.
"What?" I ask startled as I push her away from me. Peering down at her I give her a chastising look. "I want you to meet them. I really want you to help me cook Thanksgiving dinner. I most certainly don't want you going back to your apartment."
She smiles at me again.
First in relief.
Then with happiness.
One of those unfiltered, genuine
smiles where she gives me 100 percent of Sela Halstead.
And it's fucking brilliant.
Chapter 15
Sela
For the first time in just over six months, I actually consider letting go of my vengeance against JT.
For just a moment, I consider what would happen if I focused instead on what I have here with Beck. He's given me so much more than money for my education. He's given me pleasure and respect. He's given me self-worth. Beck has made it so that I don't consider myself a victim. Without the weight of victimization on my shoulders, I have to wonder why revenge would be needed. And what would happen if I let the anger and rage go and opened up the empty space left behind to Beck North. I think I understand, deep in my heart, that he'd fill that space up perfectly.
The thought is thrilling yet scary.
It's also short-lived, as I realize that Beck tonight saved a woman from JT's clutches. What about the next woman though? And the one after that?
Because while Beck may think this is an isolated incident with his partner, I happen to know that a zebra doesn't change its stripes.
When I saw JT boldly and assuredly sprinkle powder in that woman's drink, I was overcome with hopelessness for the situation, inundated with fear for the unsuspecting, and flooded with painful memories of shame and humiliation. My stomach curdled, nausea rose, and I watched in stunned fascination as Beck pushed away from the bar. It was almost as if he was in slow motion as he strode angrily up to JT and pulled him roughly away. I watched as he yelled and pushed his partner across the floor, his face livid and flushed red. Internally, I chanted to myself, Kill him, kill him, kill him, wanting Beck to be my avenging angel, and was disappointed I didn't see bloodshed before they walked out of my line of sight.
I considered following but was frozen to my seat. I shakily sipped at my martini until I finally just gulped it down before pushing the empty glass away. What if Beck right now called the police and JT was arrested? How would I ever get to him?
But maybe if that happened, I could come forward to the police with my story and he'd go down for my assault too. That wasn't ideal to me, because while I had briefly considered this route when I first realized who Jonathon Townsend was, I just as immediately discounted it because it didn't seem satisfactory enough for me. I needed to know the identity of all my rapists and there was no guarantee he'd give them up. I also don't want JT populating this earth. As much as the idea of him getting gang-raped in prison appeals to me, I want to snuff out his wretched life so his brand of evil no longer exists. Finally, I want to make JT suffer before I end him. I want him scared, and I want him just as terrified of me as I was of him. I want all of them to suffer, and while I can't bring down on them the same horrors they perpetrated on me, I can end their lives, and that was suffering, right? Not to get to live their evil, sociopathic lives?
After the martini flushed its warmth through me, I then briefly considered taking my purse and following them both out. Within that purse sat my Walther PPK.
Well, it was my mom's handgun, because given my psychiatric history, there's no way I'd ever be given a permit, but it's in my possession now. About a month after she died, my father and I went through all her stuff. We gave her clothing away to a homeless shelter and Dad insisted I get her modest collection of jewelry except for her wedding band. All of her knickknacks stayed in their exact places within my family home, except I've noticed over the past year that some of them have been packed away, and I think that might be Maria asserting her influence. I figure Dad has them boxed and ready for me when I want them.
There wasn't much left, but in addition to her jewelry, I got her gun. My parents have always had guns for as long as I can remember. I grew up shooting with them from the time I was a little girl, my dad often driving us up to Marin County on the weekends for target practice. Sometimes we'd hit McClure's Beach on early foggy mornings and shoot beer cans off driftwood. Other times we'd head into Mount Tamalpais State Park where it was easy to get away from people and shoot into the silent forest.
I was comfortable with the gun. Knew how to load and shoot it.
While my long-distance aim is probably shit because I haven't been able to target shoot given the illegality of my possession of this gun, I intend to be up close and personal with JT when I use it.
I won't miss.
But ultimately, before I could rashly stalk out of the ballroom and commit cold-blooded murder to ease my pain, Beck was walking back in toward me. His jaw was locked tight, his eyes dull and grim. With a swiftness that surprised me, thoughts of vengeance and bloody death just evaporated, and I was filled with an overwhelming concern for Beck and his peace of mind. There's no doubt he's troubled by what he saw, and there's also no doubt that when provoked, he's a man who will react quickly and harshly. My empathy for Beck actually overtook my hate of JT, and I was compelled to help ease his distress. Granted, dancing may have been a stupid idea, but it put us in an immediate situation where I could put my hands on him in a calming fashion.
Where he was tense and still vibrating with restrained anger when he took my hand in his and pressed the other into my lower back, within just moments of us touching each other, I felt his shoulders relax and his breathing even out. Right after that, Beck was inviting me to stay in his home on an indefinite basis and said we were scrapping the entire hoax of a sugarship that we had been perpetrating.
Then he invited me to cook Thanksgiving dinner with him.
To meet his sister and niece.
He was telling me that I was becoming important to him.
All things that I never imagined I'd gain when I started this quest.
And once again, I'm wondering if the path I'm on seeking retribution is a fool's errand when I consider what I can lose. Best-case scenario, I achieve my plans and get away with murder and Beck is never the wiser. We continue seeking a potential happily ever after.
Worst case, I get caught and spend my life in prison wondering if I lost something that may have had the potential to give me a normal and fulfilled life.
"You about ready to get out of here?" Beck asks gruffly, his hand rubbing sensuously on my lower back.
"If you are," I say as I pull my head off his shoulder and gaze up at him.
He smiles softly at me, tips his head down, and rubs his nose against mine. "I just really want to be alone with you. Away from all this shit."
With a slight tilt of my face, my mouth finds his and I answer with a tongue-filled kiss that causes him to groan and pull me in closer so I can feel the start of his erection burning through our clothes. The adrenaline, high emotions, and sexual longing in his eyes right now overwhelms me.
"Let's go," I murmur, and that's all he needs before he's leading me off the dance floor, through the ballroom, and out into the hotel lobby as he reaches into his pocket to pull out his cell phone. With a few quick taps, he dials his driver and merely says, "We're ready. Pull around."
Beck's hand is tight on mine as we step out into the chilly air. He doesn't say a word, but just stares intently down the street until he sees the limo rounding the block to pull up in front of us. He doesn't wait for the driver but pulls the back door open for me and helps me inside.
Crawling in right behind me, he tells the driver, "You can take us back to the Millennium, but circle the building when you get there until I tell you otherwise."
The driver barely gets, "Yes, sir," out before Beck is hitting the button that closes the window screen that separates us from him.
Beck lowers himself back on the seat beside me, and I gasp in surprise when he turns, puts hands to my hips, and drags me onto his lap so that my ass presses into his erection and my back into his chest. His arms circle my waist where he squeezes me briefly, places his lips to my ear, and whispers, "I need you right now. Can't wait."
My head spins and my entire body flushes hot with lust brought on not by the compromising situation he just put me in, but by the need in his voice. I answer by wiggling
my butt and grinding down onto him.
Beck hisses, in pleasure...in pain...I don't know, but then his hands go to the hem of my dress and he roughly pulls the material up my legs, right past my hips where it bunches around my waist. No sooner is the dress out of his way than his hand is between my legs and his fingers are inching under the white cotton lace of my panties. No sooner is his hand in my panties than his fingers are against my clit, dipping inside me, massaging me in and out. My heels punch into the carpeted floor of the car, my legs straighten, and my back arches away from him as the back of my head presses into his shoulder for leverage.
"That's right," he growls as he finger-fucks me, moving his other hand over my chest to pinch at a nipple through the silk of my dress. "I want you to come on my hand, baby. Come for me, Sela."
My eyes roll into the back of my head as the pleasure threatens to consume me. His fiery touch, his filthy words, the mere fact he couldn't even wait until we pulled away from the hotel has me racing toward climax at Mach speed. I vaguely wonder if the driver knows what we're doing, figure he probably does, and God help me...that turns me on even more.
"Come on, Sela," Beck grits out, his stiff cock grinding into my ass from below. "Give it to me so I can fuck you. Please give it to me...I need inside you so bad."
And holy shit...I give it to him with a scream that reverberates through the limousine and no doubt that the driver heard that. My pelvis shoots up, grinds against his hand, and an animalistic groan of relief tears free.
"Oh, fuck me, that's hot," Beck says as he continues to rub circles around my clit while I shudder and shake in his embrace.
My head is still spinning, my body deliciously weak when Beck spins me in his arms, pulling me into a full straddle over his lap so I'm now facing him.
"Get my pants open," he huffs out urgently as his hand dives into his pocket for his wallet. I push up on my knees and quickly get his belt undone as he tries to get a condom out, both of our chests heaving with unrestrained fervor.
"Fuck," Beck barks out in frustration as he rifles through his wallet. "I don't have a goddamn condom."
My hands freeze and I raise my head to look at Beck. His face is awash with pain and need, and his voice cracks when he looks me right in the eye and says, "Christ...I want inside of you so fucking bad."