by Jo Raven
He keeps me upright, though, and sneers in my face as I get my feet back under me, my breath wheezing. Black spots swim in my vision.
“I don’t care,” I manage and take a wobbly step back, as much as his hold will allow me. “He can’t sell me. I’m not his property. Let me go.”
His eyes narrow, as if he’s noticing my words, my refusal, for the first time. “You have no choice, Tessa.”
The hell I don’t. “Let me go, or I swear I’ll scream.”
“Will you now?” He’s suddenly crushing me to him, crushing his mouth to mine, biting my lower lip. The pain makes me cry out, but he swallows the sound, forces his tongue against mine. Invading me.
Just when I think I’ll pass out, he pushes me off him, then raises his hand and slaps me. Hard.
The world spins, black mixing with red and green. The back of my head impacts on something hard, and jabs of fire go through my back.
What…?
I blink, and find myself on my back in the wet grass, staring up at the night sky.
“Bitch,” Sean is raving, walking back and forth in front of me, hands in the pockets of his dark suit. “You thought you could break up with me? Me?” He shakes his head at the absurdity of the concept. “You’ll pay. I’ll make sure of it.” He turns to me and jabs a finger at my chest, glaring. “One word from me, and your dad’s deal is history. He worked for years to get this far. You think he’d hesitate even for one second to comply? You think you’re important to him? Are you that naïve? You’ll have to work hard to appease me.”
I stare at him. The shock of what he’s saying is subtle—seeping slowly into my skin and flesh, into my bones. Into my mind. Audrey said it many times, but somehow it isn’t until now it sinks in.
My dad doesn’t care about me. His work, his money, his success is more important. So important he’d push me back into Sean Anholt’s clutches, even though I told him, told both my parents how he treated me. How he forced himself on me. How he hurt me.
They don’t give a damn. They didn’t drag me here because they want to close a deal with the Jensons, but with the Anholts. I am to suck it up and go quietly, be a sacrifice for their business.
I wonder why my mother isn’t here. She couldn’t stomach it? Didn’t want to watch?
“You can’t see how good I am for you,” Sean is saying, and he crouches at my side. “I’m the best catch in Chicago, and I came to this backwater just for you.” His hand hovers over my face, and I brace for another slap. His mouth twists. “Open your eyes, Tessa. I’m the best you’ll ever hope to get, and fate has pushed us together.”
My dad, I think. Not fate. Just my dad who doesn’t care about me.
As Sean leans over me, anger fills me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like it, this wave of hot and cold rushing through me at the same time, this sensation of being crushed and strong all at once. So disappointed and yet glad to finally know.
My heart is still pounding like a hammer against my ribs, tears leak from the corner of my eyes, and I can’t catch my breath. And yet a strange calm settles over me. I’m leaving. This is it. Whatever happens, I’m not letting Sean, or my parents, or anyone for that matter get a hold on me.
Not. Ever. Again.
So I let him get close. Real close. I lift my hands over my head on the cold grass and wait. He smirks, and I want to knock the self-satisfied expression off his face, but let my eyes half-close instead, hiding my thoughts. My feelings.
“Can’t wait for me to fuck you, huh?” He braces on one hand and looks down at me, the excited gleam in his eyes at odds with the awful words spilling from his mouth. “You spread your legs for everyone, don’t you? Fucking slut.”
I keep my voice locked inside. I keep still, keep quiet. Let him insult me, and brag, and preen. He really does believe I sleep with everyone. He doesn’t know there hasn’t been anyone for me since Dylan. The only one who touched me in all this time was Sean, and what he did to me…
Through the tears that keep leaking from my eyes, I know the moment he leans down to take my mouth again.
I twist and hit his shin with the hard toe of my shoe, then reach down, grab his balls and twist.
He cries out in agony. I put my hands on his shoulders and shove him off, turning and throwing him off balance—a move I learned at self-defense. He hits the ground hard and I scramble to my feet, kick off my shoes and get the hell out of Dodge—running, slipping in the grass, staggering.
“Help!” I shout, but my voice is faint and scratchy. “Help.”
I make it through the door into the building and run down an empty hall, my bare feet slapping the floor. Where is everyone? I push another set of doors open and skid down a corridor. This isn’t the way we came, but who cares now.
I think I hear steps pounding behind me, and I run like never before in my life. Sean is pissed off. If he catches me, it will be bad. Real bad.
Sweat trickles down my back as I skid around a corner and see another set of double doors. Hurrying over to them, I try the handle, but can’t turn it.
Locked.
Oh God. “Help me!” I yell, terror an icy fist around my heart. I bang on the closed door. My hands shake. “Anyone!”
The handle suddenly turns, the door opens, and I spill out, crashing on someone. Someone tall and broad who grabs me in his arms. I clutch at him, burying my face in a muscled chest, inhaling his scent of leather and pine that’s somehow familiar.
“Help me,” I mumble. “Please, help me.”
Why is his scent so familiar?
“Is everything…?” He falls silent, and then says, his voice rising in shock, “Tessa?”
I look up and barely have the time to register it’s Dylan holding me, Dylan talking to me—what the hell is Dylan doing here?—when the doors swing open once again.
“Tessa, come back here,” Sean shouts, his voice jolting me like electric current. “Bitch.”
“Who are you?” Dylan’s voice is calm. My whole body shudders. His arms tighten around me, holding me close. Safe. “Is everything all right?”
How can he even ask that? I can’t move, he’s holding me so tightly—and I don’t want to, either. I don’t want to turn and see Sean ever again.
“Everything’s just fine,” Sean mutters. “Except that’s my girlfriend you’re hugging, asshole. Let her go.”
Dylan stills. He lets out a breath. “It doesn’t look to me like she wants me to. Tessa, do you want me to let go?”
Laughter rises in my throat like gorge. If I let it out, it’ll be hysterical. “No,” I say and force myself to repeat it, louder. “No. Don’t let go.”
“She’s my girlfriend,” Sean repeats.
“No, I’m not,” I whisper, and I’m still struggling for breath. The adrenaline rush is fading, and it leaves my body a trembling mess. “Never was.”
“Who do you think you are?” Sean grinds out the words. “You’ll do as I say.”
“Step back, sir,” Dylan says quietly, “or I’ll radio the security inside the building to come take you away.”
“Take me away? You have no fucking idea who I am, do you? Well, let me tell you. I’m Sean Anholt, and you’ll soon wish you never touched my girlfriend or gotten in my damn way.”
“She says she’s not your girlfriend, Mr. Anholt.” If Dylan has realized whose son Sean is, his voice doesn’t betray any fear. It’s flat and cold.
“Are you kidding me, guard?”
Dylan says nothing. Silence spreads, tense and full of unspoken words. Will he step away and leave me to Sean? My parents did it. Why shouldn’t he?
But his hold on me doesn’t change. I look up at his face. He has the bluest eyes I have ever seen, and they’re so bright tonight.
“So this is how it’s going to be, is it? Be careful, guard. Oh, but you have a name, don’t you?” Sean’s voice drags, and I can hear the smirk in it. “D. Hayes. I can make you wish you never showed up here tonight.”
He’s threatenin
g Dylan. The realization slowly dawns on me, and when it does, I think my heart stops for a moment.
I push on Dylan’s chest, and after hesitating a moment, he relaxes his hold so I can turn around. Face Sean.
“You won’t harm him,” I say into Sean’s sneering face. “He just happened to be here. He has nothing to do with this. With you.”
“Oh, he has everything to do with this, and me.” Sean grins, obviously enjoying himself. “He got in my way, and he touched you.”
Oh God. “Stop. Stop it. Why are you so hell-bent on having me? You can have any woman you want, you said so yourself.”
“You got that right.” He rocks back on his heels. “So you must be wondering why I’d want a pitiful excuse of a woman like you.”
The words are like salt rubbing into a wound, and I wince. They’d hurt anyway, but spoken in front of Dylan… They burn.
Dylan makes a sound low in his throat, like a growl, so I start talking before he says anything else to draw Sean’s attention back to himself.
“I do wonder. So why don’t you tell me, so we can settle this once and for all.”
He snorts as if I’ve said something really ridiculous, and maybe I do sound ridiculous. I’ve never been confident in his presence—but Dylan is right behind me, and that makes me feel stronger.
“Maybe I just enjoy seeing the fear in your eyes,” Sean says softly. “How you go pale and shaky, how one memory can dig its claws in and not let you go. Don’t you see you’ll always be mine?”
I feel light-headed. I can’t speak, so I just watch as he turns around, opens the doors, and vanishes back inside the building.
“Tess?” Dylan mutters from behind me, his voice uncertain. “Are you okay?”
No, I’m not okay. Not sure I’ll ever be okay after tonight, after realizing my parents really don’t give a damn, and Sean is sick enough to come after me. That he’d force himself on me again. That he likes getting drunk on my fear.
And I’m not sure I can take the concern in Dylan’s voice, when I’ve finally decided, after all these years, that I’m done with him, too.
Chapter Four
Dylan
“Tess.” She’s shaken and pale, barefoot, for chrissakes—in the cold, in her short dress, barely covered by her coat. “Come on, let’s go inside. You’re freezing.”
“No.” She shakes her head. Long strands of hair have come loose from their twist, and they frame her pinched face. Her eyes shine in the low lights of the outdoor terrace. Has she been crying? Dammit.
My chest feels tight. The need to enfold her back in my arms is overwhelming. I haven’t held her in years, not since I broke up with her at school. She fits perfectly in my arms, her curves soft, molding to my body. My arms feel empty without her. I want…
Fuck, no. Don’t go there.
I rub a hand over my face. “Did he hurt you?” I ask.
She takes so long to speak, I know the answer is yes, and it makes my hands curl into fists.
“I’m okay,” she lies, her voice strained. Her red lipstick is smeared over her chin, like blood. What did that asshole do to her? “I just want to go home.”
“Is someone here who can take you?”
“I have my car. I’ll be fine.”
Hell no. Not with that lunatic of a boyfriend of hers roaming the place. “He hurt you,” I say, and this time it’s not a question. “I can’t let you go out there alone.”
“I’m sorry, what?” She turns back to face me, and her expression roots me to the spot. She’s angry—coldly angry. “Guess what: I don’t need your permission to do anything. Thank you for helping me. But you were here by chance. You don’t have the right to tell me what I can or can’t do, because you’re no longer a part of my life.”
Fuck. I’ve been shutting her out for years, and here I am, shocked because she’s finally returning the favor.
And I can’t stop staring at her. I can’t stop looking.
Damn, she’s so sexy, standing there in her red dress that’s barely visible under her gray coat, her long legs bare, her face flushed, her eyes glittering. She’s gorgeous. Breathtaking. Her anger is transforming her, peeling off the layers of quiet acceptance she’s been hiding under for so long. Revealing her true self.
My Tessa. The girl I wanted to spend my life with. The girl I couldn’t live without.
I rub a hand over my face. Shit. No, not this. Especially not now.
She turns and limps toward the doors, her body tense. Why is she limping? Did she hurt her feet?
“Tessa, wait.” I hurry after her. “That fucker is still out there. I’m going with you.”
She shakes her head but doesn’t say anything when I open the door and wait for her to enter the building. I reach for her, and she lets me pull her close and support her as we walk down the hall.
“Did you hurt your foot? Did you sprain an ankle?”
“Must’ve stepped on something.”
“Hang on in there.” My jaw is clenched so tight it aches. Her short answers make my hackles rise. Whatever happened was bad. It really spooked her. And I shouldn’t worry about Tessa when I have my brothers and dad to look after, when I need to make ends meet, and it doesn’t look like I’m gonna make it—but nothing can stop me from taking care of Tessa now. Not when she’s leaning on me, soft and scared, angry and yet trusting. Trusting me to help her through this mess.
“Is it true that guy’s not your boyfriend?”
“He’s not,” she whispers, and her voice hitches. “He never was. We sort of hung out together for a while once. That was years ago.”
Unfamiliar heat washes through me. All the muscles in my body stiffen. The thought of her being with another man…
Hell no. This can’t be happening. I don’t have the right to be jealous.
I’m taking her home. A reasonable voice in my mind insists I should help her to her car and stay. I’m getting paid for this gig and desperately need the money.
But I can’t let go of her. My arm is locked around her slim back, my mind is locked… locked on her.
I draw a shuddering breath, force myself to keep moving. Miguel, the other guard on this side of the building, glances up as we approach and frowns.
“I need to take her home,” I say by way of greeting, praying he won’t ask questions. “She had a small accident. Could you cover for me? I won’t be long.”
He nods again, shakes his head. “Got you covered, hombre. You okay, miss? Should I call the police?”
“I’m okay.” Tessa dredges up a faint smile. I can see right through it. She’s terrified and trying to hide it, and I want to go back, grab that motherfucker of an ex of hers and slam him into a wall. Repeatedly.
I clutch her to me, needing to protect and soothe her. It’s like all these years I managed to bury my feelings for her deep, and now… Now they’re rushing together, streams feeding into a river, drowning me, confusing me.
Fucking hell.
I thank Miguel and usher Tessa out. Startled gazes follow us—a grim security guard and a beautiful, barefoot woman, stumbling out onto the street where glamorous guests are still arriving in their shiny limos.
The breeze is icy, and I tuck Tessa closer to me, trying to shield her from the cold and the curious stares.
“There’s the head valet. Give me the ticket for your car,” I say, and she pulls it out of her purse and hands it to me wordlessly.
Together we move in the man’s direction, and I wave the ticket. He comes to retrieve it, thanks me and calls for the car to be brought over. I hug her to me, wanting to get her into the warmth of her car as fast as possible. As soon as the valet drives the white Cherokee jeep in front us, I tug her toward it, but she limps and grimaces, and I remember her feet are hurt.
Dammit.
Without giving it a second thought, I bend and lift her in my arms. She gasps and puts her arms around my neck automatically, her eyes wide. She’s light and warm, and my breath catches somewhere in my lungs.
/>
“Put me down, Dylan,” she whispers, but there’s no heat to it so I ignore it. I stride around the car, to the passenger side, where I let her slide down slowly, carefully. With a pang I realize I don’t want to let her go, and I clutch her to me a moment longer than necessary.
Then she slips out of my arms. She climbs inside, then fishes out a tip for the valet and holds her hand out until he takes it and goes.
Her door slams shut.
I blink. I feel as if I’ve stepped into an alternate reality, where I see Tessa, but I’m invisible to her.
It should bring me relief. It should make me glad. It’s what I wanted when I broke up with her four years ago, right after my mother left.
But it doesn’t. I don’t feel relieved or glad. I don’t feel happy.
Because the thought of her not loving me threatens to shatter me. Goddammit, how selfish is that? That I want her to love me even when I’ve done my best to pretend I don’t? Well, now it’s too late anyway. In fact, it’s been too fucking late since the start.
Too late to get her back.
***
The city lights streak by, and I force my eyes on the road, doing my best not to stare at Tessa’s sweet profile.
What’s wrong with me? All this time she was hanging around I ignored her, and now she’s giving me the silent treatment, and I can’t look away.
Maybe I’m a masochist. Maybe I like my pain.
I drive in terse silence, the reality of the situation slowly seeping through the fog in my mind. Fuck, this is stupid. What the hell am I doing? I’m dead tired, I left work on a whim, and I now have to get back to the gala hoping nobody noticed. I need this job. I need the money.
Shit. The pending rent, medical expenses and various other debts rise to haunt me. I step on the gas, as if I can outrun my problems.
“The first on the left,” Tessa whispers, and I take the turn, my hands white-knuckled on the leather-bound wheel.
Her street is wide and long. Trees border the sidewalks. The buildings are tall and very white, their glass and chrome facades lit up, all festive and shit.