Does that mean he’ll kill the mayor?
I turn my attention to Julian, and the question must be written all over my face because the smile he gives me in return isn’t reassuring.
It’s menacing.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says in a low voice. “Do you need anything?”
“I’m fine.” I clear my throat, then turn to another customer and get back to filling orders. Nothing the mayor did rattled me too badly until he touched me. When he grabbed my arm, I just froze. It’s the same arm my father would grab, and I was waiting for the white-hot pain that always came with it. I should have shaken him off, and I would have if Julian hadn’t stepped in. But for a heartbeat, my body froze, and I didn’t like that.
A few things have become clear to me in the past couple of days. First of all, I really need to seek out some physical therapy for my shoulder. I’m fairly sure that with some exercise and help, I can get the strength and mobility back.
The other is that I’d like to take some self-defense classes. I believe Rome when he says that he’ll never let anyone hurt me again, but I shouldn’t freeze up every time a man touches me in a way I don’t like. I want myfightreaction to kick in, even if it’s just to pull myself away and look for someone in security.
I need to build my self-confidence, and I think classes will help with that. Maybe Scarlett will take one with me. I wonder if there’s a class in the gym here on-site? It’s worth asking.
A couple of hours pass by without incident, and I’m feeling better. Julian only stayed at the bar for maybe thirty minutes, and then he was on his way.
Things have mellowed out considerably as members have drifted into the playroom or privacy rooms, and I really want to find Rome.
I need a moment. A hug.
I’ve been able to stay focused on making drinks and ensuring our guests are happy, but the mayor’s anger, so familiar and horrifying, has also shown me that deep down there are many other scars and bruises than the eye can see.And I hate my father even more.
It’s Rome’s arms I want wrapped around me, making me feel … safe.
Does that make me a needy girlfriend? Maybe, but he owns the place, and it’s only for a few minutes.
“Rita, do you mind if I go find Rome for just a minute?”
She smiles over at me. “Not at all. We’re good here. Go take an hour if you want it.”
“I don’t know if I’ll need that long, but thanks.”
I untie my apron, fold it up, and stow it in a drawer for when I return, then head over to the elevators.
But when I get to his office, Rome isn’t around, and no one’s guarding his door.
I sigh and feel my shoulders slump, then pull my phone out of the pocket of my black dress and decide to send him a text.
If he didn’t want me to contact him, he wouldn’t have given me a phone, right?
Me: Hey! I have a quick break and was looking for you. Nothing urgent. Are you in the building somewhere?
It says that the message is delivered, but after thirty seconds of staring at the screen, there’s no sign that he’s replying, so I shove the phone back in my pocket and ride back down to the lounge level.
Before I return to the bar, I turn to the extravagant doors that lead to the playroom. Maybe he’s inside, checking on things, and can’t hear his phone?
With a deep breath of courage, I open the door and step inside, and I’m immediately met with music and lots of people.
My eyes skim the area, but I don’t see Rome. I do see Julian sitting on a couch with a woman kneeling in front of him, giving him one hell of an enthusiastic blow job. His hands are fisted in her hair, guiding her up and down his shaft, and I look away.
I don’t really want to watch Rome’s friends have sex.
Instinctively, I make my way over to where that same man from the other night is working with his ropes again, but this time on a different woman.
Shibari.
Even the name is sexy.
