How I enjoyed these things when I was in college is beyond me. I used to be out every Friday or Saturday night—before Tommy, of course. As per hisexpectations,a proper woman wouldn’t have more than a glass of wine, and God forbid she do anything to enjoy herself.
I bounce the heels of my wedges against the floor. I grip my drink, using the cold to numb the ache in my wrist. I keep close to the bar and dart my eyes around the room, studying every new face. I can just spot Natalie dancing with another woman I’ve met several times, but I can’t remember her name. Deedee isn’t that far away either, happily getting felt up by some guy—probably a tourist. They’re the most fun, apparently.
They’d both always had a carefree air around them, even though our line of business could land us in a ditch or in prison.
My second cocktail isn’t doing shit to stop me from grinding my molars. My mind isn’t registering the taste. The lack of food and water is making the alcohol go straight to my head—I don’t feel even remotelylaid-back.The atmosphere sure as hell isn’t any more tolerable.
Even if I wanted to drink more to prove to myself Tommy’s rules hold no bearing on me, the fear his family has ingrained in me is still there.
If I’m drunk, that means I can’t think straight.
If I’m hungover, I’m slower.
Anything could happen at any moment, and I need to be prepared to run. I won’t become a victim just because I decided to indulge in a Sex on the Beach.
For what must be the thousandth time tonight, I check my cabin’s security footage. I glance at the cameras in the corners of the room as I tap my fingers against my phone. I’m so exposed out here. What if someone is watching me from those cameras?
The Gallaghers have the means to hack into security footage. What if they have access to facial recognition software I’m not aware of? Does that even exist?
They could track me to this very spot and drag me out.
I blow out a breath, focusing on calming the fuck down before every person in this bar starts looking like Tommy. Unshed tears threaten to spill as I fight the urge to bolt.
The cheesy pop tune hammers against my eardrums. I pretend not to hear Nat calling me over to dance. I’ll lose my grip on my sanity if I do.
A hand curves around my lower back, and I jump away, breathing hard and trembling at the stranger who touched me. Goosebumps rain over my flesh, and my stomach ties into a hundred knots that threaten to empty the contents of my stomach. Every nerve ending in my body locks up, prepared to be struck. A faint ringing sounds in my ear, and suddenly I’m back in the cold, white mansion, cooking dinner, terrified he had a less than savory day and he knows about a misstep I’ve taken that I’m unaware of.
No, I’m not there anymore.
My knuckles are bleached white on my purse. I’m half tempted to pull out my taser to use it on the tourist just trying to make the most out of his holiday.
“You’re looking a little lonely over here,” he slurs.
“That’s intentional,” I mumble under my breath so he can’t hear. I flinch, ready to be slapped for talking back, even though the rational part of my brain is aware I won’t be. A year and a half ago, I would have been beaten black and blue for?—
I dig my long nails into my palm, focusing on the pain.Stop thinking about him, Krist—Cindi.
Fuck. Mey name is Cindi, not Kristy.
I step back when he sways forward. “How about you and I go for a little dance?” He touches my hand, and my fist flies before I can think better of it, hitting him square in the gut.
Holy shit. What did I just do?
The man buckles over with a grunt.
“I’m so sorry.” I stagger back, pulse racing. My heart races. Do I run? Make amends?
God, I’m fucked in the head. I need to leave.
I spin on my heels and come to a complete stop in front of a wall of muscle. Sea breeze trickles into my lungs, and warmth seeps through my bloodstream. Something fizzles to life in my soul, a struck match in the darkest recesses. My gaze collides with a pair of endless ocean blues. For one brief, fleeting second, all my terrors, all my worries, disappear, and I finally remember what it means to be content.Safe.
But it’s a fallacy. Reality comes crashing down as the man’s appearance takes shape: his long, black hair, sharp jawline, and chiseled chest made by the Greek gods themselves. The man from last night.
He’s following me.
“Why are you here?” I gasp.
“Did this man touch you?” His rage sends a bolt of shivers down my spine. The initial shudder comes from the forbidden allure of hearing someone be protective of me. Then, it’s the realization his anger might be directed toward me.
