He speaks to the maître d in low tones and leads me into the side hall toward the restrooms instead of the dining hall.
“Take as long as you need to freshen up.I’ll wait for you here, and we’ll go in together,” he says.
“Thank you, Mr.Diamond,” I say.
“Of course, Ms.Tripp,” he responds.
With a gentle push on the small of my back, he sends me toward the ladies’ room.
I use the toilet and wash my hands before inspecting my reflection.The bags under my eyes from broken, nightmare-filled sleep and my ghastly complexion won’t improve without rest and relaxation, but that’s a luxury I can’t afford, so I plop my purse on the counter and unfasten the closure.
If Brennan had let me bring in my tote, I could wash my face and start my makeup over, but I make do with the small emergency kit in my purse.I adjust my suit, spritz a bit of body spray and walk through the mist, pack up my purse, and exit the washroom.
No hulking man waits in the hall, so I stand against the wall opposite the restrooms and pull out my phone.
“Audrey Tripp.You actually came.”
Terror collapses my lungs and squeezes my heart as the voice from my nightmares fills my ears.I tear my eyes away from my screen and swallow bile as my ex-stepfather invades my space.
“You really are just Edgar’s glorified whore, aren’t you?What perks does a personal secretary offer to potential clients?”
He’s too close.I can’t breathe.His cologne clogs my sinuses, and his red tie fills my vision.
My mind blanks.Everything I’ve learned in self-defense class flees as I mentally check out.I stand like a wooden doll as the monster who stole my happiness and crushed my soul skims a fingertip down my face.
“I want what you denied me thirteen years ago, you little tease.Give me the full package tonight and you’ll never have to worry about your mom again.”
Abject horror rips through me.My mind screams for me to fight.To punch, knee, or kick him.To run.To flee straight to my mom and never leave her side again.
My body refuses to move beyond the slightest shift of my gaze.
Brennan looks up from fixing his cuff as he exits the men’s room.
My soul stretches out to him.I beg, scream, and crumble without twitching a single muscle.
Brennan’s bright blue eyes darken with violent fury.On silent feet, he stalks forward, grabs his father’s wrist, wrenches it behind his back, manhandles him to the side, and slams him face first into the wall.
Blood splatters onto the intricate pattern of the wallpaper.The crunching sound of his nose breaking shatters the ice holding me in place.I mindlessly lunge for the bathroom to vomit but hit the entranceway with my shoulder and bounce to the other side.
Strong arms catch me before I concuss myself on the solid wall.
“You’re okay, love.I’ve got you,” Brennan murmurs in my ear.
A shaking begins deep in my chest.I push it—and him—away and stagger to my feet.
Donald chuckles and spits a bloody wad onto the ornate carpet at Brennan’s feet.
“You always were an ungrateful little shit.You’re going to regret this, son,” he says.
Brennan pulls his phone out of his pocket.I grab his wrist.
“What are you doing?”I cringe at the accusation in my voice.
“Calling the police.”
“No.You can’t.Don’t,” I demand.
Donald laughs despite the gore running down his face.He pushes off the wall and swaggers toward us as though he owns the city.
