Liam clears his throat, wrangling the discussion back to the matter at hand, and finalizing the deal for an upcoming shipment we have coming in from down south.
Briar hasn’t moved in minutes. She sits atop my lap, stone still, back rigid. To anyone watching, she appears to be the perfect accessory: poised, pretty, and obedient. But I can feel the truth in every tiny tremor that runs through her. The way I can feel her heart racing when my hand circles her wrist, wanting to feel her pulse.
I lean in, letting my mouth brush against her ear, low enough so that only she can hear me.
“Go to the bathroom,” I murmur.
She tenses, nearly jumping at the sound of my voice, too caught up in the conversations playing out around her. My thumb moves in small circles on the outside of her thigh.
“Take a breath,” I say, trying to reassure her, and wait until I see her inhale deeply.
“Good. Now go, take a lap, freshen up, and remember why you’re here.” My hand finds her chin, turning her face to mine, silently reminding her of her mission—to see if she recognizes anyone from that night in Wonderland.
I sit back, my expression bored and unreadable. It takes her a second, but she slowly rises. Keeping her head down as she makes her way through the crowd, though I catch her eyes darting up, taking in faces. I keep my eyes on her until she disappears into the bathroom.
“Well-trained,” Filip compliments, and I grab hold of my glass, pulling it closer so I don’t bury my fist into his throat.
43
PANIC
BRIAR
Now
My heart hammers in my chest, a frantic rhythm that refuses regulation.
The scent of perfume, sweat, alcohol, and… sex hangs heavy in the air. My breaths are shallow, the air feels hot, the room… too small.
Men watch me as I pass; their gazes leave me feeling gross, violated by their eyes alone.
The club is similar to Wonderland, butworse. It’s high class, and most of the men have on designer suits, Cartier watches—the whole place is dripping in arrogance and privilege.
There are poles, and women dancing, and I walk by several couples openly having sex. When I pass a girl on her knees, a collar wrapped around her neck, and the man she’s animatedly sucking off holding the chain connected to it, I quicken my steps.
Briar, you idiot. What have you gotten yourself into?
My heart rate grows more erratic, my breaths coming in shallow and uneven.
Fuck. Not here. Not now. Please don’t let it hit me here.
A panic attack. I’ve gotten them on and off since high school. The prize you get in exchange for the pressure of being an overachiever. I’m supposed to be taking anti-anxiety meds but I can’t afford them. Instead, I resort to raw-dogging my anxiety, holding it at bay by sheer force of will and luck.
I glance back, connecting with Koen’s gaze as he follows my path to the bathroom. There’s no softness in his eyes, just that familiar hard edge and overwhelming intensity.
I swallow, spotting the women’s restroom and darting into it.
Once inside, my hands grip the countertop. I turn on the water, letting it run, but don’t touch it. I stare at the water pouring out of the faucet, watching it swirl around the drain before disappearing. I take a shaky breath before counting in my head,One, two, three, four….I focus on the sound of the water; it drowns out the sultry, sexy beat of whatever it is the DJ’s playing outside. I keep counting in my head,five, six, seven, eight…Trying to ground myself.
“Hey, are you okay?”
I jump at the voice behind me, having not realized I wasn’t alone. Whirling around, I find two girls talking further down the counter. The one who spoke to me is leaning up against the far wall, the other is bent over the countertop, her face close to the mirror as she applies a fresh coat of lipstick to her lips.
“You look tense,” the girl applying lipstick says, assessing me through a side-eye as she continues with her task.
I swallow, trying to stay calm. The spike in heart rate at discovering them almost undoes all my efforts to calm it down.
“First time here?” one of them asks, tilting her head as she inspects me.
