“Excuse me,” I mutter, trying to tug myself free from his hold, but when I meet his eyes, I spot a threatening glint deep in his icy gaze that causes something to wrap around my chest and squeeze tight.
“Are you enjoying the evening?” Chuck asks, like he isn’t currently holding me against my will, the smile curling his lips laced with bitterness.
“Please let me go,” I whisper on a rushed breath, my eyes searching the dimly lit and deserted corridor.
Instead of letting me go, Chuck turns us until I feel the wallpress up against my back, his body flanking mine, and when I catch the bitter scent of liquor on his breath, my fight or flight starts to kick into gear, the pounding of my heart almost painful as it slams against my sternum.
Chuck’s bloodshot eyes flit between mine. “So, are you and Brookes serious, or…”
Panic consumes me, the skin on my wrist where he has one hand clamped around me feeling like it’s on fire and my throat starts to tighten, making it hard to catch a breath. “Let me go or I swear to God, I willscream,” I manage.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Chuck says with a menacing smirk that contradicts his words. “I just want to talk to you. About Brookes. Maybe see if we can come to some sort of… arrangement.”
Tears sting my eyes, and I am so angry at myself because I made a promise to fifteen-year-old me that if this ever happened again, I’d stick up for us; I’d fight. “Please just let me go.”
Chuck huffs a derisive laugh.
“I’d do what she fuckin’ says, if I were you,” a deep, steely voice cuts through the silence, and my eyes flare when I see Brookes appear over Chuck’s shoulder.
Like magic, Chuck lets go of my wrist, and I scurry out from between him and the wall so fast, cowering in the corner and rubbing at the red welts burning my skin while trying to catch my breath. I feel sick to my stomach, my whole body shivering uncontrollably.
“Hey, Brookes!” Chuck turns to face Brookes, grinning like he wasn’t just about to do whatever the hell he was about to do to me. “Poppy and I were just… talking about you.” He juts his chin in my direction, offering me a slow wink that makes my skin crawl.
Having witnessed enough with his own eyes, Brookes clearly isn’t buying the act. He takes a step closer, forcing Chuck to take one back. He takes another. And another, and then one more until he’s toe-to-toe with Chuck pressed back against the wallwhere he had me pinned seconds ago, all the blood draining from his face.
Brookes is positively seething. Jaw clenched painfully tight. Chest heaving with every one of his racking breaths. Hands balled into fists by his sides. I’ve never seen someone look so dangerous. And as much as I would love to see Chuck cop a right hook to his smug face, I know Brookes cannot afford to be knocking out the veneers of the owner of one of the AGL Tour’s most prominent sponsors.
I hurry over and place my hand on Brookes’ shoulder. “Don’t do this. It’s not worth it.”
The hint of a menacing grin tugs at the corners of Brookes’ mouth, his hard gaze steady and unblinking as he continues staring down at Chuck.
“Brookes,” I say again, my tone filled with a little more warning this time. “Let’s go.”
Leaning in, Brookes’ lips linger less than an inch from Chuck’s ear as he whispers, “If you so much asbreathein her direction ever again, I willfuckingend you.”
Chuck’s throat works with a hard swallow, and he nods. And the moment Brookes takes a step back, the man turns and practically runs off into the restroom.
Spinning around, Brookes closes the distance between us, stepping right up to me, the terrifying anger that had taken over him suddenly replaced with nothing but genuine worry and concern as he looks down at me, his eyes frantic in their assessment.
“Are… are you okay?” he asks, slightly panicked. Touching my arm, he slides his fingertips down my skin, gently grabbing my hand and lifting it to inspect the wrist Chuck had held so tight it was starting to cut off the circulation to my fingers.
“I’m okay,” I lie. I’m not okay. The adrenaline is beginning to subside, and my knees are starting to wobble.
“Come on, Pops,” Brookes says, wrapping his arm aroundme and pulling me flush into his side as he leads us back down the corridor. “Let’s go home.”
As we walk back through the dining room, Dave and Blake stop talking, their faces morphing into confusion as we head in the opposite direction.
“Brookes?” Blake yells, standing from his chair.
Brookes stops suddenly, and we turn. He looks at me, and I see a flicker of contemplation in his eyes before he leaves me standing here and storms back to the table.
I watch on as obviously heated words I’m not privy to are exchanged between the two, Brookes pointing a finger at Dave, and then pointing in the direction of the restrooms, and then finally, pointing at me. Dave’s eyes widen as they glance at me, and then he bows his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, the weight of his sigh visible even from here. Blake says something but Brookes holds a hand up, stopping him, and he leans in so close, Blake’s face paling from whatever he says to him.
Turning, Brookes’ face is like thunder as he walks directly back to me. Without a word, he wraps his arm around me again, hand splayed over my hip, and then together we continue on our way out of the restaurant, where we pass the bitchy-ass server gaping at us, while holding a tray with what appears to be my Kahlua lava cake.
CHAPTER 24
BROOKES
