by Barefoot, LW
“Thanks, baby. This is perfect,” he says leaving me standing here and thinking about his hair looking like he’s just been fucked.
The first trickle of trepidation about what exactly took place last year that needs to repeat itself slithers into existence.
Harper
The beam from headlights stretch across the large screen of the television while I search for something to watch. I give up after consecutive vehicles circle around the driveway and I turn music on instead.
As I sit here and attempt to have a dull, boring evening it gets harder and harder to accomplish. There’s a buzz about the grounds. I didn’t think it would tempt me to discover what exactly is going on outside Evan’s bedroom doors.
The old plantation makes interesting noises as it fills with more people. The music pumping through the impressive speaker system in Evan’s suite starts to compete with the bass bumping up from the first floor. Expansive rugs and carpeting do little to insulate the clatter of heels on hardwood and the cackle of revelry. I sift through Evan’s magazine collection, but it only consists of Classic Motorsports and Architectural Digest.
I left my laptop in the studio and decide to go get it. The hallway is full of well-dressed people and it’s packed around the landing by the stairs. My studio door is locked when I shake the handle. It’s apparent Brad was serious about me not digging any deeper into my earlier research.
I finish the champagne Brad brought and I want more. After slipping back in the master suite, I search the well-stocked bar and mini fridge on the other side of the fireplace. Like the magazines, there’s nothing but pure masculine preferences.
I stare at Evan’s favorite whiskey and think about making a mint julep. The bar has everything stocked down to the fresh mint leaves. But the only time I’ve tasted one, I licked it off Evan’s tongue.
The few bottles of wine in the cabinet are nothing I’ve heard of and even though I start to pull the labels up on my phone to find out more about them, I really want that crisp bubbly Brad mentioned was floating all over the house in iced troughs.
It’s not like Brad or Evan mentioned anything about me not attending. I have to get ready before Evan comes to bed because he made his plans perfectly clear. As soon as he left, I picked out the lingerie I was happy to wear and let him wake me up in. But as I stare at my empty flute of champagne, I make the decision to get dressed and find one of those buckets full of the small bottles. No harm, no foul. I could slip downstairs and go undetected, even if it looks like I’m planning on double fisting wine on my way back upstairs.
I scan through the closet and find what looks as close to what I saw other women wearing. Figure hugging dress, necklace spun around to resemble a choker, high heels, and smoky eye makeup. I tuck and conceal my hair in a top knot. I laugh at myself for how dressed up I get for the equivalent of a beer run.
Ru’ is asleep on the bathroom rug, when I lock the bedroom door behind me.
With each step I take down the packed hallway I give myself a pep talk. There’s no possible way every single person will be noticed by Evan’s security detail. I can’t even fathom how many invitations were sent out for tonight and how they keep track of them all. Evan mentioned there was over 60,000 square feet in the mansion alone and that’s more than enough to get lost in.
The only rule that was spelled out was that I couldn’t be seen with Evan. Him or the necklace around my neck. The pendant hangs heavy and rubs against the zipper on my dress, only the gold chain is visible.
I weave down the stairs expecting there to be refreshments in the massive foyer. That’s as far as I would risk going, but there’s nothing but partygoers. I snag a glass from a passing waiter and take a sip. Mission accomplished.
I turn on my heel to head back upstairs when I think about taking a book from the library, like I intended last night. While everyone else celebrates, I could walk in there, pick a book at random and head back upstairs for the rest of the night.
There’s so many people here, there is no chance of me running into Evan and if I do, I’ll pretend not to notice. I’ll walk right past him like I’ve never seen him before.
I approach the library and think nothing of it.
It is strange the way you see something and your brain is unable to register it. It is the reaction most people get when rubbernecking a car accident. I believe they would turn their heads away and keep driving if their brains were able to process the scene in front of them. That same reaction happens to me, my feet cemented in the floor. My dumb ass automatically assumed there are couples, separated, and making out. I would have thought that without my small consumption of wine.
As my eyes adjust to the dark room, it’s clear this isn’t a normal party in the middle of nowhere. Moaning, writhing bodies dance with the flames from the fireplace. I’ve never seen anything like it and I want to be instantly transported back to Evan’s bedroom, or better yet, my home in New Orleans.
Images flood me of Evan and I tangled up on that same couch last night. There was nothing innocent about what we did, but this is out in the open, with bystanders and I’m not the only one watching from the obscure recesses of the room.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath to steady myself so I don’t break into a run to get the hell out of here. I bring the glass to my lips and take a drink. I open my eyes and the scene is blocked by someone standing in front of me. I have to look up to meet their gaze. It’s dark, but there’s no misunderstanding the look of attraction on the guy’s face. He measures me up and takes a step closer to me. I take two steps back.
“Care to join?” the stranger whispers and I shake my head back and forth and take another step closer to the doors.
There’s no introduction, no attempt at charm. Just ‘let’s get down and dirty.’
“No, thanks,” I choke on another step back.
“You look interested. I’m as good of a partner as any,” he says as he gains ground.
I want to laugh and smart off that I’ve already set that couch on fire with the host of the party, but I can’t.
My smile has to be fake. When I take another step back, I hit a wall. I glance down at twin grips around my biceps. Dark mocha fists on top of my skin as white as a ghost. I spin around and come face to face with Brad and I’m relieved to see him despite his annoyance.
“Hands off. I saw her first and she isn’t collared,” the stranger challenges Brad.
I’m not a fucking dog.
Brad stares down the guy who’s stupid enough to push him. After a brief standoff he gives up and brushes past us. Brad backs me up to a dark corner and blocks my view of the room. But the sounds penetrate through the haze of shock. My back hits a bookshelf and Brad snags the glass from my fingers. I brace my hands on my knees before I pass out or run away screaming. I even fantasize about falling into one of the books on the shelf and time travel to somewhere, anywhere else but here. Brad serves as a shield and I know he’s agitated with me, but he gives me space to gather myself.
“You can’t do this here, Harper,” he whispers down to me.
“Yo, Brad, she’s not supposed to be in here,” someone barks in a rushed quiet voice, handing Brad a glass tumbler.
My stomach sinks and I think about Evan in that fucked up throng of people. Those dancing shadows ruin the beauty of what we shared. Was last night a practice round for tonight? Was Evan just going through the motions because he has to recreate them?
“Here, drink this. It will help,” Brad whispers.
The guy who handed it to Brad watches me closely as I shoot the contents back, dowsing the desert in my throat with burning liquid. I jump when he barks at someone to mind their own fucking business, as if we’re beginning to draw attention. Brad’s the only person on Evan’s team I know by name. He’s the only one who treats me other than an object or a job or a kid he has to babysit.
“We need to move out of here,” the guard says, fearful I’m going to make a scene or have a breakdown.
/> “Harper, you good?”
Is Brad kidding me? Whatever was in that glass now burns pleasantly in the pit of my stomach, but it doesn’t unravel the knots. I take a deep breath and nod.
He leans in and whispers, “We’re going to walk out of this room, stay by my side no matter what. I’ll get you upstairs and then you can freak out and process everything.”
That last line grates me wrong and kind of pisses me off. I’m not innocent and I’m definitely not a child. I might wake up an entire village because of my nightmares, but when I’m awake, I’m in control. Last time I checked I haven’t started answering the Sculptor’s voice in my head.
I square my shoulders and bite my tongue. Forcing strength and confidence from the top of head, all the way to my toes. Gone are my shaky legs and queasy stomach. I lean up off the bookshelf and smooth my hands down my dress.
“I’m all set,” I lie and hope Brad believes me.
He tucks my hand in the crease of his arm. I make my fist relax as a wail of pain echoes over the sound of slapping skin and it’s even harder to not turn to look at the wreck taking place. Eclipsing everything I thought about this place and its owner.
My footsteps follow behind Brad’s hulking form. We’re only a few steps from the stairs when the front door swings open. Brad freezes and I look through the throng of people and notice Grayson with what I assume to be his entourage.
When I met him he had this easy presence about him with being pushed and crammed in the live venue, but now he looks fierce and determined. His gaze travels across the foyer, but before our eyes meet, I’m spun around and pulled back towards the library by the guard who insisted I stay out of there in the first place. The same one I’ve watched lurking in the shadows and enforcing Evan’s needs from Chicago to New Orleans. His grip is light, but his jaw is clenched.
“I thought I was the one who needed to blend in,” I mutter, while he pulls me aside in an alcove under the stairs.
“What?” he asks as if I shouldn’t speak to him at all.
“If I’m supposed to blend in, then so should you. You’re practically bulldozing through people as if you’re trying to get noticed,” I say.
I meet his serious blue eyes and they soften. He’s tall and lean, but doesn’t possess the same imposing stature Brad does. It makes sense Brad pushed me to him so we blend in better. The way he pulled through guests seems out of character for him because every time I’ve seen him, he has been stealthy and blends in with the background.
“You’re right. I’m Seth, by the way,” he says watching where we left Brad.
I glance over my shoulder, Brad shakes his head at us.
“We can’t go back upstairs without being seen. You and I need to disappear in this crowd. I’ll try to keep you away from the worst of it,” he whispers.
I’m sure he already has. It’s one thing to think about Evan in the library with someone else, but I’m glad I didn’t see it with my own eyes.
“So we’re avoiding Grayson?” I ask and he freezes.
“He’s not the only one. Keep your head up, but don’t look anyone in the eyes no matter what. Squeeze my hand or pinch me if you think you’re going to lose it.”
That’s twice now I’ve been accused of being weak. I’ve been traumatized, but I don’t thrive on drama. If anything I avoid it at all costs.
“Keep handing me those cocktails and I’ll follow your lead without question or protest,” I wager.
He looks up at Brad one last time for direction. I keep my focus in front of me in case Grayson’s watching. Seth mutters a curse and walks us in the opposite direction.
The clash between the modern day party and the timeless elegance of the prewar home seems wrong. Music pulses off crown molding from the eighteen hundreds. Mix in the scandalous acts and apparent sexual atmosphere and it feels like desecration of the old plantation.
We walk past rooms off the main hallway. A door opens to the left and I make the mistake of turning my attention to it on instinct. A few short seconds tick off, but it’s enough for me to get an eyeful of the entertainment. A masked woman tied to a bench is willingly getting whipped with some sort of leather while she moans in ecstasy. Seth pulls me away when the door closes. I jump when his palm lands on my lower back.
“You hanging in there?” he asks.
I don’t trust my words, as I nod in answer. This close to the main source of music would make it impossible for him to hear me if I don’t shout at him. We are all but plastered to each other, by the time we walk in the ballroom. The press of people forces us to go with it.
The once gleaming airy space with parquet floors and intricate preservation is engulfed in darkness. Strobing lights sparkle off dimmed crystal chandeliers. Thumping music beats with the pounding of my heart and I quickly take the proffered glass from Seth as we get to a bar on one of the far walls. It’s quieter back here and has optimum view of the entire room.
Evan brought me in here on the first day we arrived, it seemed so much larger then. I remember the way he held me and we swayed to silence in each other’s arms, dancing to the beat of our own tune. There was no need for all of this and the forceful nature of this environment.
I look towards the exit at the back of the room and want to use it. No amount of champagne was worth the things I’ve seen tonight. Boiling rage rises up in me thinking about Evan and his just fucked hair I left him with. I take another swig off the glass and rattle it because it’s already empty. How stupid was I earlier when I thought I could go along with tonight, tucked up in Evan’s room, waiting in lingerie for him to come back to me with no questions asked.
I’m embarrassed by the other people around us, or rather, embarrassed for them. My face burns hotter as several dancers sway provocatively, with wandering hands and grinding hips. The leers and come hither looks directed at us force me to keep my eyes on the floor like I was instructed.
Seth’s arm snakes across my waist and pulls me to him, my chest to his. I’m thankful for him blocking my view. I attempt deep cleansing breaths for what seems like long minutes.
Fingertips crawl across my exposed neck and I feel like jumping out of my skin. I stare up at Seth. His glare is directed at the person who touches me. I tremble and Seth’s grip is tight as if telling me to stop, but I can’t help it.
“Does she shiver like this when she’s punished or when you allow her to come?”
Tickling fingers find my collarbone and vodka soaked breath whispers across my skin.
“Yes and her tears would bring even the most dedicated and disciplined Dom to his knees,” Seth says, appearing bored and possessive.
His hand pushes the stranger’s fingers off me.
“Touchy, touchy. How much?” vodka breath asks.
“She’s not a whore.”
Seth holds a fresh glass to my lips, feeding it to me, and I happily submit and take a drink. His thumb brushes a drop from the corner of my mouth and he licks it off.
“That’s not how this works here. How much will it take for me to have your sub for tonight? I promise not to mark her.”
Seth’s jaw clenches as he glances down at me. I’m trying my hardest to keep the tears in but he sees them threaten to fall.
“You’re scaring my pet. Leave us, I feed off her fear and it’s too early for me to take advantage of it.”
I’m pressed up against Seth so tightly I know his words are false. The strain of his muscles have nothing to do with lust. And I know what role he plays in Evan’s life. I wouldn’t fuck with him and neither should this persistent man with booze permeating from his mouth like a distillery.
“I’m owed a favor and this is what I want as payment.”
So I’m a ‘what’, not a ‘who’.
Seth tips the glass to my lips and meets my gaze. It looks like he’s impressed I haven’t either passed out, thrown up, or had a major panic attack. I have held true on our agreement and he’d better do the same.
He places the cup back on
the bar. A wicked smile kicks up on his face as he spins me around. His fist goes around my throat and his other hand splays across my quivering stomach. I keep my eyes on the floor, when I drop them the unwanted but honest tears fall down my cheeks.
I hear a hiss and at the sound, Seth takes a hard step back with me tight in his grip. He’s not restricting my throat, but I’m sure that’s what it looks like.
“What the fuck did I tell you? I don’t lend her out like the sluts you’re interested in,” Seth roars so loud noise dies down around us and gasps ring out.
“Forget the favor, what will it take? All I need is an hour.”
“I know how tempting she looks. Those tears trailing down her pale cheeks, and her skin turns every shade of pink from those inflictions you’re fantasizing about delivering on her innocent skin, but it’s not going to happen. I own her. Go rough up someone that’s willing, because it isn’t her and I sure as shit am not going to share her with you,” Seth yells louder and I shake because he has to be causing a scene and drawing dangerous attention to us.
And as soon as it happens, I make the biggest mistake I’ve made all night. I look up. Glowing emerald eyes watch me with so many emotions and meanings I struggle to breathe. His gaze holds me captive and demands a ransom I can’t pay.
Vodka breath pushes through the dancing grinding crowd toward the king of the castle, the manipulator of my feelings, and the person I thought was screwing in the library. Evan never breaks my gaze and through all this sound and distance it feels like daylight streams through the dark ballroom and I’m spinning in his arms, warm and protected. I fall into the lie of what simplicity could mean between us and it isn’t this. It doesn’t belong here.
As vodka breath rages and points to where I’m locked in place by Seth’s tight grip and memories of being in Evan’s arms, Evan looks like he couldn’t care less. Evan motions to a woman with ginger colored hair and snaps his fingers. She presents herself in front of them with her head bent. Vodka breath slaps her hard, waits for her reaction, and then shakes his head. My whole body jerks as if I’m the one who’s been hit. His murderous gaze moves through the room and locks on Seth and I. He demands Evan’s compliance and support. They openly argue and my stomach somersaults.