“Some McManus men are into sharing,” he tells me in that same teasing threatening tone. “Not at the same time, obviously. Incest is a step too far. But we don’t mind taking turns. Each of us taking the same girl, one after the other, after the other.”
His fingertips touch lightly against my collarbone, dancing their way along the ridges, then tracing a path over the tender skin of my throat.
“Is that what you’d like, George? Is that why you’re out late at night, so eager for your next partner that you didn’t even bother to put on underwear.”
His other hand latches onto my thigh, under the edge of the shirt fabric. It runs up my leg until he touches against the bare cheek of my arse.
I cry in earnest, making loud blubbery noises as I try to suck in air. Patrick lets go of me and backs up a step, then another, until finally he crosses to the door to flick on the lightswitch.
The sudden influx of brightness makes my eyes water for a different reason. I press the heels of my hands hard into my eyes, sniffing back the worst of it.
“It may have been in bad taste, but I’m just joking,” he says, eyeing me cautiously then shaking his head as though he thinks I’m practising my amateur dramatics for his benefit. “You won’t last longaround here if you take things too seriously. Even Kari has a sense of humour.”
He retakes his seat, reaching for his glass, then tips it towards the open drinks’ cabinet. “If Lock sent you down here for more booze, help yourself, but I have to warn you, given what he’s already consumed tonight, that’s probably a bad idea.”
My mind struggles to catch up with the sudden change. It’s still frozen in place, terrified, while the perceived threat calmly sips his drink. When I finally take a step forward, it’s like a key to unlock the rest of my body. My shoulders and throat muscles relax, and I shuffle closer to the spare seat. “I’m just trying to get out of here, but I can’t find an unlocked door.”
“And you won’t.” He turns back to me, frowning. “We keep it like Fort Knox for a reason.” His eyes skate up my naked legs, then land on the high heels still dangling from one hand. “You can’t go outside dressed like that, anyway. I don’t know what car service you called but if they told you they’d come here to pick you up, they’re lying.”
I shift my weight, eyes flicking towards the fire but finding no help there. “I don’t…” Tears flood out of me again, embarrassing in their number. “I can walk, I just need to find a door. The one to the foyer’s locked.”
Patrick shakes his head, staring at me like I’m the village moron. “You can’t walk home in heels and a shirt while it’s pouring with rain.”
My tears now flow so copiously that my nose is running as well, and I really need to wipe it on something but the shirt’s the only thing I have. I try to do it surreptitiously, but since the only other person in the room is staring straight at me, that’s a hard ask.
“Here.” He shakes out a handkerchief from his pocket and I move over to grab it, blowing my nose and wiping away the worstof my tears. “What did…?” Patrick shakes his head. “Never mind.”
He strides back to the fire and flips a switch that turns a hood over it. After a few seconds, he rolls it back and the flames are gone. He places his glass down on the sidetable next to his chair and gestures me forward. “Come on. I’ll give you a lift home.”
A kind offer that, given what he whispered to me, sounds more like a trap. “Oh, you don’t need—”
“Yeah,” he interrupts, gazing at my attire again. “Yeah, I really think I do. Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.” He strides over to the door again, then pauses, resting his fingers on the handle. “Did he hurt you?”
The word sets my brain on fire, melting any serious thoughts into a waxy sludge. “N-no.”
“It’s okay to tell me. I know I—” He breaks off, running a hand through his hair and puffing out a breath. He moves closer, stopping when he gets near enough that my muscles tense. “Look, I was just playing games before, okay? It wasn’t… I wasn’t going to…”
His scrutiny makes me so uncomfortable I hug myself, wishing I could curl into a little ball.
The altered position makes the shirt rise higher on my legs, exposing the dark bite mark on my thigh. Patrick stares at it, reaching out a fingertip, then jerking his hand away before he touches me, ducking his head as he inhales a deep breath.
“Do you need a doctor? There’s a private clinic I know where they won’t ask questions. They won’t take your—”
“No.” His sudden change in demeanour is just as frightening as his initial interaction. All I want is for the evening to be over. For me to be tucked up in bed. “I don’t need anything except a way out of here.”
“You can’t…” His composure cracks a little further. “You can’t go to the police. I’m serious. Even if…” He stops to clear his throat before continuing, “Even if he raped you, you can’t go to them. Creighton will kill you if you do.”
It’s not even a threat. Just a simple statement of fact, uttered with no accompanying emotion.
“I’m not going to the police.” My voice comes out in a shocked rush. “I really just want to leave. I won’t bother anyone, I promise. Please.”
He still looks uncertain.
“Lachlan had… I gave my consent,” I assure him. It’s almost the truth, just leaving out the bit about my father’s debt, the only coercion he needed. “I just… I have school tomorrow and I need to get some sleep. Truly. I just want to go home.”
Patrick continues to stare at the mark on my thigh. When his eyes return to meet mine, I can’t hold the gaze, even though his expression is kind, even though I understand he’s offering help.
The thought, justthe thought, that I might need a doctor twists me inside until I’m faint. The next time I shift my weight it’s because my head is too dizzy to remember where it put my body.
