Get your head out of your ass, Claire.
The guy is also the type you wouldn’t want to mess with. I can see that if somebody tried to get at him, they would fail. Spectacularly.
He’s clearly trained to do some serious damage, and while that is certainly scary, it’s also a bit impressive. It could also be something I can use in my life right now.
But more than anything, this guy just needs to go. I’ve given up hope that anything is going to happen with Theodore.
“And why would Teddy hire my company to come down here and intimidate you? When he says thatyou’rethe one blackmailing him.”
Mr. Muscles cocks an eyebrow at me, and I can’t stop the scoff that escapes my lips.
Theodore McDowell Jr., the senator who’s following in his daddy’s footsteps, is actually telling people thatI’mblackmailing him.
That’d be hilarious if it weren’t so offensive and wrong.
“I’mnotblackmailing him. Yes, I don’t have much in my life, but I’m not looking to make money by harping on some senator. He asked me for a private dance, and it didn’t go the way it should. I ran off his fucking yacht, and this is what I have to deal with now.”
I watch the person in front of me, who is clearly a professional bully of sorts, and his expression completely changes.
There was this stoic, impassive, impossible-to-read mask over his face, but as the words leave my mouth, there’s a slight flicker of humanity beneath it all.
The hardness of his eyes disappears and goes soft. His arms relax where he frames me on the wall until they completely fall away.
Silence surrounds us now, and I know I could dart away and get out of here if I needed to.
For some reason, though, I’m still standing here, looking at this man who is stillwaytoo close to me.
“You ran off his yacht?” he asks, and the ice in my stomach stabs all the harder. “Explain to me what that means.”
His voice is so deep. This animalistic growl. I can’t tell if he’s mad at me or at Theodore.
I guess I have to take my chance, though, because I don’t stand any against him physically.
My hands start to shake as the memories flood back. I ball them into fists at my sides, trying to hide the tremor. But my voice—my voice is harder to control.
“He hired me to dance for him. I work at a club where he found me.” I have to pause, swallowing against the tightness in my throat. “Yes, I’m light on cash at the moment, so I eventually took the opportunity he presented because it wasa lotof money foronedance. But of course, that was really naïve of me, because as soon as I got there, it was pretty clear that this wasn’t just going to be me stripping for him like I do at the club.”
My stomach churns, and I press a hand against it like I can hold the nausea down by force.
“There was no one around except his bodyguards, and none of them were in the room. I did my thing, I played my song, and I was going to at least take a break, if not leave altogether, when he grabbed me and tried to force himself on me.”
The words are coming faster now, tumbling out like if I slow down I won’t be able to finish. My voice cracks on the next part.
“He told me no one would believe a girl like me. That I should begratefula man of his status even looked twice at someone so... disposable.” I can still hear the way he said it. Calm. Almost bored. Like he was stating a fact. “I got lucky. I gotreallylucky. Because my heels are massive and really heavy and pretty damn sharp on the end. So, I kicked—hard. I made a break for it and got the hell out of there.”
I glare at Mr. Muscles, some of my nerve returning as I raise my arm and shove it toward his face so he’ll see the lingering bruises.
“And now apparently he’s sending big scarybulliesto my doorstep to intimidate me because he knows he did something super fucking wrong. So either beat me up or go because I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”
The guy’s eyes flare as his stare lands on my arm, and he inches a hair closer. His voice is a strained growl when he speaks.
“Hedid that to you?”
For some weird fucking reason, I feel shy all of a sudden, like it’s my fault I’m wearing the handiwork of one of the world’s biggest dicks. But I nod all the same.
“Yes.”
He releases a heavy breath through his nose, the muscles in his jaw working as he clenches it hard enough to crack a tooth. I find myself staring at that jaw—the sharp cut of it, the dark stubble shadowing his skin.
