“Good boy.”
I turn around and Naomi takes my hand, I let her escort me onto the dancefloor and it’s hotter here than it was at the bar. I breathe through my mouth and I taste everything. Deodorant. Booze. Sweat. I’m sure I’d find it gross if I was sober, but right now, it’s an airborne drug, inciting arousal deep within me. Naomi presses her hard body against mine as we dance. Her hands roam me, from my hips to my breasts, and I don’t mind it. We’ve touched each other before.
Sexually.
Experimentally.
It was fun, but we decided after the first time that it wasn’t something we particularly craved with one another. Unlike my night with Ben…
Hell…I’ve never felt so good.
I try to imagine Naomi’s hands as Ben’s, but they’re too soft, too feminine. She can’t touch me the way he touched me. His hands were powerful and relentless, roaming every naked inch of me.
Soon, Naomi’s hands fade from my body and new ones come. Hard ones. Manly ones. The stranger grinds against me, his jeans rubbing the back of my bare legs. Whoever he is, he’s easier to imagine as Ben. I keep my eyes closed and continue to dance. Not for him, this…this stranger, but for who I imagine this stranger to be. I can count the amount of people I’ve had sex with on one hand and Ben dominates them all. From what I can remember, and I hope it’s not just the drunk haze, he completely claimed me, and in that moment, I’d never felt so pretty, so wanted. That in itself makes our rebellious night worth every risk.
The stranger touches me all over and I allow it, placing my hands over his. I pretend he’s someone else, as they travel the length of my body, pinching and squeezing. Arousal builds deep within me for all the wrong reasons, and if I don’t sort it out, it will drive me fucking crazy. For a brief second, the stranger’s hands fall away, but they come back firmer than ever…and larger than before. I open my eyes to gain clarity of the situation, wondering if there are more than two hands on my body since the large expanse of his palms cover a lot of ground. His hands can easily be mistaken for Ben’s. I wonder if his lips can too.
I try to turn around, but he pins me against his torso, his thick arms trapping me against him. That’s when I realize that gone is the rough sensation of denim against my legs, replaced by the soothing feel of expensive, Italian wool.
“You’re not being cooperative, Seraphina.”
I startle, my blood hotwired by the aggression in his tone and then electrified by the use of my full name.
Ben-Goddamn-Campbell.
How long has he been here? Has he watched me all night? Watched me tip back shot after shot? I paid that fucking doorman three hundred dollars to keep him out.
Ben cranes his head, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. The hair on the back of my neck reaches for him, like they’re scraps of metal and his lips are magnets. “I was going to let you enjoy your night in peace, but you can’t get away with dancing like that. Not with him.”
He holds me tightly in his grasp and my eyes flutter shut, allowing myself to melt into him. I shouldn’t. I normally wouldn’t, but he feels so perfect against me. Better than ever. Would he do it? Do me? What if I begged? What if I forced myself on him like I did that night we spent together?
Maybe I shouldn’t look at having him as my guard as a bad thing. Maybe it’s a good thing. A very good thing.
I open my eyes as I succumb to a sudden wave of sobriety.
This is Vegas…
…and my father owns Vegas. If anyone who is anybody sees us like this, Ben is as good as dead. The whole reason I’m being so difficult, the whole reason I’m keeping him at arm’s length is because of that. If I was anyone else’s daughter, I’d be chasing him, not pushing him away.
I struggle against him and he lets me go. I whirl on my heel, losing my balance. Cursing, he snatches my wrist and tugs me upright.
I snatch my limb back with a scowl. “Don’t touch me.”
“Don’t touch you?”
“Yeah.” I straighten my dress and flick my hair. “You heard me.”
“Fine. I’ll let you fall on your ass next time.”
I narrow my eyes. The neon and the strobes surrounding us flash their colors, the brighter ones lighting his handsome features. When the beat slows, the colors don’t flash as much and shadows pool in the hollows of his face, making him look more like one of my father’s men than I’d like him to. It strikes me then, as I stare into his soulless eyes, that I don’t know a damn thing about him. The fact my father sees something in him should be a warning sign. He doesn’t go around hiring good guys, after all.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I shout over my shoulder as I whirl on my heel. “Is that okay, or do you need to hold my hand?”
“Ten minutes. Then we leave.”
I mock him, pulling a face as I push my way through the crowd toward the ladies’ room. Thankfully, there isn’t much of a line and I waltz right in. Five of the seven stalls are unoccupied and I choose the one that’s the least gross and I do my business. The bathroom fills up within minutes and soon there are women screeching and laughing, some of them crying uncontrollably. My head spins as I finish my business, push myself to my feet, pull up my panties, and flush the toilet. I sway on my feet. It’s slight, but enough for me to feel intimidated by the height of my heels. Maybe it’s time for me to go home. If I get drunker than this, there’s no way I’ll be able to hide it from my father. I adjust my dress and fumble with the toilet door latch until it finally opens. I ignore the gaggle of girls as they throw themselves around the room, leaning up against whatever stable sliver of tile and porcelain is free. On the plus side, the bathroom now smells like perfume.
I wash my hands in the basin and dry them with a paper towel before exiting. Outside in the hall, the line of girls begins to stack up. Thank God, I got in when I did.
“Hey.” I’m stopped before I can even start forward.
I lift my head to the man in front of me, cringing at his bright red button up shirt he’s rolled to the elbows of his slender arms.
“Hello.”
Two women cuss at me as they squeeze between me and the door and I shrug it off with a step to the side, intending to bypass the unknown man who’s come out of nowhere.
“Sorry.” He touches my bicep and I pause. “My name’s Jacob. We were dancing together…before your jealous ex showed up.”
I quirk an eyebrow, but quickly squash it. A jealous ex? Is that how Ben looked? The thought ignites butterflies in my stomach. As quickly as I can, I take in the man’s boyish face and broad shoulders. He’s not ugly at least, but he’s not the type I’d go for. I like dark eyes, not baby blues.
“Oh.” I touch my hair, glancing down the corridor. “Sorry. He can be a little…intense.”
Where is he, anyway? Surely my father told him to chase away any boys that look me in the eye too long.
“You don’t need to apologize.” Jacob’s purses his thin lips as he scratches at the back of his head. It draws my attention to the copious amounts of gel he’s used to slick back his blond locks. “You wanna get out of here? Clear your head a bit?”
I lean back, swaying ever so slightly. I may be under the influence, but I’m not that under the influence.
“I’m not sleeping with you, if that’s what you think.”
He flashes me his palms, a calming gesture, like I’m some wild animal he’s worried will flip out. “Furthest thing from my mind, promise. I’m just offering to help give you a little space between you and him. That’s all.”
I narrow my eyes, suspicious. “That’s all, huh?”
“Unless you want to leave with him.”
I snort. I can imagine it now, the awkwardness of it all. And he is mad at me for dancing with Jacob. You know what? Fuck it. One last ditch effort to save Ben’s life.
“Fine, but I’m bringing my friends.”
“That’s okay with me.”
I agree to meet Jacob by his black Mustang in the club’s park
ing lot once I’ve rounded up Naomi and Karen. Naomi isn’t hard to find. She’s dancing on a table barefoot with a bottle of booze clenched in her hand and a security guard shouting from three feet away. He can’t reach her. She’s created a moat of adoring fans around her.
I grab my bag from the bar and use it as a battering ram to get through. I shout her name and she spots me immediately.
“Come on!” she shouts, a glistening liquid rolling from her lips and off her chin. “Dance!”
“I’m leaving!” I shout back. “Are you coming?”
Naomi glances around. “We’re thinking about going to a casino soon. You don’t want to come?”
I shake my head, aggravating a brewing headache at the back of my skull. I can’t have fun here. Ben might have been my acquaintance first, but now my father pays his bills, who knows what information he’ll pass on. At least no one is watching me in my room at home. It’s the one place I have privacy. The average twenty-year-old American girl would feel suffocated, but I’ve been dealing with this my whole life. It’s just the way it is for girls like me.
I wave Naomi off and she promises to call me when she gets home so I know she arrived safely. It’s funny. I’ve gone out a lot with my friends over the years, but we always end up going our separate ways at some point during the night. Sometimes by accident. Others on purpose. I honestly don’t know why I bother going out anymore. I simper. I’m twenty and I’m already sick of the nightlife.
Surprisingly, I don’t feel Ben at my back as I make for the club’s exit. Since I arrived, the bodies in the club have doubled, maybe even tripled, but I look the same as at least ten other girls in there. I bet Ben the newbie is having a hard time trying to pin me down.
I’ve never left a club with a guy before, excluding Ben of course, but Jacob is my last shot at getting Ben fired. When I show up at home without James, in the passenger seat of a car driven by a random boy I met at a club my father doesn’t own, and drunk, there’s no way my father will keep Ben on. He might get an ass beating, but he’ll recover. At least he won’t be found buried under six-feet of sand years down the track and he’ll have me to thank for that.
Outside, the air is thick with moisture and it clings to my skin. As I walk along the sidewalk toward the parking lot adjacent the club, I start to doubt my plan. I could be getting myself into a lot of trouble…and not from my dad. I don’t know Jacob…I don’t know if he’s under the influence of alcohol or drugs, and I sure as hell don’t know if he has a history of violence or sexual assault. Tonight could end really badly for me.
Granted, leaving the club with Ben that night could have ended badly as well, but there was something about him that made me feel safe. He could have driven me away in a van that had “free candy” sprayed in red up the sides and I still wouldn’t have questioned his intentions
While Jacob looks friendly enough, I didn’t get that same “safe” vibe and that, suddenly, makes me uncomfortable.
I glance down the main street, looking for James. When he dropped us off, he pulled into a two-minute zone. While my father’s men would cut the fingers off any tow truck driver or law enforcement officer that dare lay a finger on their cars, James is different. He’s an old man that respects the law and follows the rules. He’s been my driver since I was a little girl and my father trusts his driving skills wholeheartedly. Knowing all of this about him, it’s safe to say he’s parked the town car elsewhere. Pausing, I open my handbag and pull out my new phone. Sure enough, James has texted to let me know he’s parked around the back when I’m ready to leave. I’m thankful my father only depends on James to drive me around and not to protect me. I can’t stomach the thought of James getting into trouble because of something I did.
I turn into the alley, eager to find James instead of Jacob as second guesses plague me.
To my left, a car door clicks open. “Hey!”
I slam to a stop and squint through the murky, yellow streetlight at the red-draped arm that waves in my direction.
“Over here!”
Shit.
“Where are your friends at?”
“They don’t want to come,” I shout back, glancing around, scratching the back of my head. “I think I’m gonna call it a night and go home.”
“Okay.” Jacob smiles. “Want me to take you home?”
Cold feet. That’s what they call the act of backing out of something at the last minute. My feet aren’t just cold. My feet are freezing. If Ben wants to work for my family, that’s fine. Whatever happens is on him. I shouldn’t risk my safety trying to protect him.
“Um…”
“She’s good.”
I startle at the rough snap beside me as Ben storms down the sidewalk. I take a minute step back as he swallows the distance between us, looking as devastating as ever.
“You sure?”
I cringe at Jacob’s question, realizing I don’t know Ben’s temperament either. He could be a madman. I swiftly nod, unable to take my eyes off Ben, who glares down his straight nose at me, and I swallow hard.
“Ben is going to take me home.”
Ben’s jaw ticks and my body weakens as his arresting aggression rolls off of him in waves. I’ve really made him angry tonight. The way he’s poised his eyebrows, with a challenging kink in their curve, suggests he’s reached the end of his rope.
Jacob curses and drops back into his car. The black Mustang comes to life with a roar and I jump as he floors it out, racing off like an idiot. Jacob’s tires screech in the distance, followed by the various honks of other drivers, and I’m thankful Ben showed up in time to stop me from being polite and getting in Jacob’s car, even though I didn’t want to.
“Ben…”
“You know where James has parked. I suggest you start walking before I say something I’ll regret.”
Okay…fair enough. Pursing my lips, I turn around, slipping my cellphone into my handbag. My heels click along the pavement and I desperately try to keep my focus on each crack as I pass them by, not wanting to lose a shoe or roll my ankle. The more I focus on my feet, however, the more I notice a niggling at the back of my heel. Soon, that niggling turns into full blown fire. I stop with a groan.
“My feet hurt.”
He nudges my shoulder. “It’s not far, princess.”
Princess? I whirl around to face him. “Stop calling me that.”
“I will, when you stop acting like one.”
Tears well in my eyes—irrational tears. Ones born of alcohol and pain. He can say what he wants about me. It isn’t wrong. I’ve been horrible since I saw him having breakfast with my father in my backyard.
“I…” I clear my throat. “I think I have a blister.”
The longer I stay in these shoes, the more I notice the pain. I swipe at my cheek and peer up at Ben, who watches me closely, his head tilted, his eyebrows furrowed. He doesn’t trust me.
“You want me to carry you?”
I scoff with a sniffle. “In this dress? No.”
“Then what do you want?” His voice holds an air of impatience and I don’t like it.
I was going to ask him to take my shoes off, but he’ll only mock me for that too. Tsking, I bend over and my handbag slides down my arm and plonks to the ground, pulling me off balance.
I put my hand out and squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for impact, but it doesn’t come.
“Christ,” Ben curses, grabbing my arm in one hand while smoothing a large, rough palm over the small of my back. He eases me upright and my head spins, my eyes fluttering open.
I grin at him. “I thought you were going to let me fall on my ass next time.”
“I thought about it.”
I touch his bicep to steady myself and I realize he’s taken off his sports jacket. Only thin, silky fabric separates my warm, damp skin from his. I try not to let it bother me, but there’s something about that thought that gets me hot underneath my metaphorical collar.
“Hold onto this for me.” Releasing me, h
e drapes his sports jacket over my shoulders and I turn my head into the fabric to smell it, leaning against the club’s concrete wall behind me.
It smells like him…like he did the night we spent together. Earth. Man. A perfect mix of sugar and spice.
Not paying me any attention, Ben crouches before me, placing one gentle hand on the back of my calf and the other on my heel. I become hyperaware of his bare skin on mine and goosebumps erupt along the narrow of my spine.
“Lift,” he orders and I do as I’m told.
Cool air swoops in and kisses my aching feet, and I can’t help the melting sigh that seeps from my lips. I place my tender sole against the uneven concrete and snuggle further into his sports jacket as he removes my second heel and straightens his stance.
“Better?”
I nod without a smile. “Much. Thank you.”
I push off the wall and stroll the rest of the alley, moving at a snail’s pace so I don’t end up with a new shoe, one made of syringes and shards of broken glass. I exhale in relief when I spot my town car by the club’s rear entry and James’s silhouette inside. As usual, he jumps out as I approach, but Ben waves him off. “I’ve got it, James. Thanks.”
James returns to the driver’s seat and Ben opens the door for me. I slip inside and shuffle along the leather seats to the far door, placing my handbag on my lap. Once Ben joins me, he slams the door shut and raises the partition between us and James, placing my heels neatly in the space beside him.
With my head against the window, I sit in silence for what feels like years, zoning in and out of stupors, and after a while, it gets to me.
“I know you’re mad at me…” I start, lifting my forehead off the glass.
“That’s the understatement of the fucking century.”
“But I was only going to leave with him to help you.”
He turns in his seat, settling his dark gaze on me. “Help me? If you want to help me, why don’t you stop making my job so damn difficult?”
I open my mouth to reply, but he cuts me off.
“You think I want to follow you around town and stand in the corner of some nightclub while you drink your ass off and dance on strangers? I fucking don’t, but I am committed to seeing this job through because I get to carry a loaded gun and your father pays me more than I ever made in the army.” He turns his large body to face the front of the car. “This job isn’t about you. I need it because I can’t go back to bagging groceries or fetching coffee. I can’t do mediocrity.”