How could I tell Artair this had nothing to do with the evening? I had my brain to blame, as it played through multiple loops. More champagne! That would help slow down my overly charged brain—that or a spanking, but we weren't in the right place for that, though it didn't stop me from looking around, just to see.
“Nothing is wrong. I'm just looking for that server; I would like some more champagne, please. It's delicious.” I smiled earnestly up at him, admiring how he filled out his tux, while trying not to show any hints of the fight going on inside me.
“Whatever my princess wants.”
He winked, relieving me of the added feelings of insecurity I felt from my request. Seriously, I was beginning to lose it, but after another glass, I began to settle and be less in my head and more present in my surroundings.
Donna wanted to do another shoe exchange, so we excused ourselves and made our way toward the ladies' room. When Graeme followed us, Donna frowned at him. “Is there a reason why you're following us?” she asked him point-blank.
I was grateful for his quick thinking when he replied, “You look so beautiful, Donna, I didn't want you being swept up by another man.”
That worked, and she batted her eyelashes at him. “Since you put it that way,” she said, sliding her arm through his and happily accepting his escort. I fell a few steps behind, giving them privacy, and grabbing another glass of champagne, because if the last one had made everything better, what could another do?
Ignoring the feeling of being watched, I chugged back my drink and placed the empty glass on the tray, my companionsnone the wiser. The hair on the back of my neck rose. Turning, I looked around but didn't see anyone looking back at me.
Now I understood what the extra glass did; it made me unnaturally paranoid. I shook my head and joined Donna in the restroom. We quickly exchanged shoes and took a quick video, this time with us both. I wasn't thinking, and I should have been. I didn't ask Donna for permission to post her feet on my account. She thought this was all about social media and doing a shout-out to Choo of Scotland.
When we exited the bathroom, Graeme was standing just outside the door, tapping his foot impatiently. “What took you two so long?”
Donna looked about ready to say something rude, but instead, she said, “A lady never tells,” and with a flip of her hair, started her trek back to the main area. Graeme quickly followed behind her.
I was well on my way to being truly drunk and slowed my steps to grab another glass of champagne from a loitering server stationed near the restroom. After all, I felt I owed it to Artair to take advantage of the alcohol, considering what he'd paid for the tickets to attend was outrageous!
I drained the glass, and as I lowered my arm to place it back on the tray, a hand landed on my forearm.
Startled, I looked up, gasping when I recognized the familiar and unwelcome face. “You!” I narrowed my eyes at Stan Jarvis. “What are you doing here?”
He wore an arrogant expression that completely changed him from the angsty college student who had confronted me to something entirely different. At that moment, I knew it had been him all along.
“How? Why?” I couldn't seem to speak any coherent sentences. The room began to spin, and Stan tugged me in tight.
“I left Stan behind a long time ago,balletfeet08. You have forced me to expose myself to being caught, and you will pay for that.”
My eyes were closed, and I was barely conscious. He must have drugged the glass of champagne. I was as weak as a kitten but attempted to struggle. He just laughed and walked backward, tugging me along with him, no doubt making us appear like a couple looking for a private spot to kiss. But he didn't stop at the wall of washrooms and continued to tug me with him down a hall. As I was facing that direction, it was obvious he was headed for the back exit.
“Just tell me,” I barely got out, “why?”
“Silly girl. Because I want you all to myself, and when I'm done stuffing one of those lovely pink toe shoes in your tight little ass, you'll know who you really belong to, not that pretentious Lord What's-His-Name in the other room.”
“That's Lord McFarlane to you.”
I managed to crank my head around to see Artair, Graeme, a shocked Donna, and a bunch of men holding guns—the undercover cops who'd been set up as guests, I gathered. I hadn't noticed a single one of them earlier, despite knowing they were here to capture the infamous Blacktop hacker.
I turned my head, facing down the hall, to see there were more men stationed there who must have come through from the back. Stan Jarvis had nowhere to run. The champagne and adrenaline had me feeling queasy, and I knew I was moments away from throwing up. Unfortunately for Stan, he happened to be in my way and, moments later, was covered in my vomit.
Startled, he pushed me away. Artair scooped me up in his arms and headed out the front door, leaving all else behind, except for Donna and Graeme, who hustled after us, his hand wrapped tightly around hers.
“What is going on?” I heard her ask.
“I'll tell you, but first, we best get Luna to the hospital.”
I floated away after that, happy to be safe and secure in Artair's arms once again.
Chapter Twelve
Artair
I placed a damp cloth on Luna's forehead, running my finger across her brow. She looked so impossibly young when she slept, causing me to question if it was right of me to want her to stay. She had her entire life ahead of her, and being fifteen years her senior felt off, even though I knew I looked much younger than my age. It wasn't just the age issue either, but also the world in which I lived. Courtrooms, politics, and stuffy social engagements would be boring, and I wasn't sure how a life like that would be fair to her. She should be out living her best life and exploring the world, not getting stuck with me in a stuffy castle.
