by Naomi Martin
Why, so I can let some old guy paw and use me in exchange for empty promises? Yeah, no thanks.
“Thank you, Donovan, but I’m actually seeing somebody,” I reply politely.
“Well, that’s a pity,” he says. “And where is your man tonight?”
“Probably having a circle jerk with Asher and Samuel.” Olivia giggles.
Donovan’s eyes flit from her and back to me as a knowing smile crosses his lips. “Oh, so you’re seeing Owen, then?”
My first thought is to ask how he knows Owen. But then I figure that he’s probably met him here since he, Asher, and Samuel are regular fixtures at Blackjacks, so I bite back the question and nod.
“Yeah, we’re seeing each other,” I confirm. “It’s nothing that serious–”
“Is it ever, with him?” Olivia butts in.
“Well, if it’s nothing serious, then why not meet my friend?” Donovan presses. “Perhaps spending a little time with a successful man can–”
“Thank you, but I’m not interested,” I say, a little more sharply than I’d intended. “I guess I’m a one-man kind of woman – serious or not.”
“Right. Well, then, I fear dear Olivia and I must beg your leave,” he says. “At least for a little while.”
Olivia looks at me, her smile wide and devilish. Donovan slides out of the booth and pulls her along with him. But he leans down and whispers something in her ear and she turns back to me, a hopeful look in her eye.
“You maybe want to come with us?” she asks. “We can party together. Have a little fun.”
“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” Donovan chimes in.
His eyes are shining bright and the smile on his face chills my blood. He’s obviously thrilled with the idea of screwing two eighteen-year-olds at once. It’s every older man’s dream, I’m sure. But there is nothing on this planet that sounds less appealing to me than having a threesome with Olivia and a man older than my own father would be, if he were alive.
“Thanks, but I’m going to pass,” I tell her.
“Are you sure?” Olivia presses. “Donovan would really enjoy it.”
“I’m sure he would,” I reply. “But I’ll pass.”
Her smile slips into a frown as a dark look crosses Donovan’s face, and I realize that this was his idea, not some spontaneous flight of fancy on Olivia’s part. Donovan wanted to have me, and he’s obviously not used to being told no – especially not here, I’m guessing, where anything goes and he walks around like a king.
“C’mon, Winter,” Olivia whispers harshly, leaning in closer so he can’t hear. “Don’t ruin this for me. Just go along with this.”
I want to tell her that if her relationship with Donovan is dependent upon me fucking him, then there’s not a whole lot to ruin, anyway. But I hold those words inside, not wanting to make the situation any worse.
“I’m really not into it, Liv. I’m sorry.”
She opens her mouth to protest further, but Donovan steps forward and slips his hand around her waist. She looks up at him and that dreamy, sick-in-love expression crosses her face once more. It’s as if the merest touch from him soothes the savage beast that dwells inside of her.
“It’s okay, love,” Donovan assures her smoothly. “We don’t want to force dear Winter to take part in anything she so clearly doesn’t want to participate in, now do we?”
He leads her away, but Olivia casts one last glare at me, a hard gleam in her eye promising retribution. It sends a cold chill rushing through me. Great. Just what I need. I sigh and slump back in the booth, taking a long swallow of my drink as I try to figure out how I’m going to get home tonight.
As I sit there, I scan the crowd and pause when I see Owen and Samuel standing in the far corner with a couple of girls who look about my age. I don’t recognize either of them but I’m pretty sure they don’t go to Sapphire Bay. Judging by the comfortable way the tiny, petite blonde is pressed up against Owen, though, he clearly knows her well.
A surge of anger, bright and hot, shoots through me as I watch them. It doesn’t matter how many times I told myself things between Owen and I aren’t serious or that I’m happy with the casual nature of our relationship. In that moment, all I want is to storm across the club, grab the blonde by the hair, and bash her head against the wall. Then, I want to vent my rage on Owen, kicking and slapping him until he apologizes and begs for me to give him another chance – at which point, I’ll simply kick him in the balls and storm away in my righteous rage.
In the end, of course, I do neither of those things. Instead, I sit in the booth with my drink in hand and just watch them together as my heart shatters into a million tiny pieces. I drain the last of my glass and then proceed to swallow down what Olivia and Donovan had left behind, as well. And when Owen, with his arm around the blonde’s waist, shepherds her to the hallway that leads to the rooms in the back of the club with Samuel trailing behind, I get to my feet and hurry after them.
I have no idea what I’m going to do once I catch up with them. I guess I just need for them – for Owen – to know that I know. That I saw them together, and that I know what he’s doing.
As I reach the opening to the hallway, though, the bouncer seated on the stool beside it stops me in my tracks.
“Sorry,” he says. “No solo acts allowed back there.”
“Oh, I’m not solo,” I reply. “I’m with Donovan and Olivia. I just had to use the bathroom first.”
He gives me a knowing smile and a nod. “Room four. Take a left at the end of the hall.”
“Thank you.”
The short hallway ends in an actual door. I quickly open it and dash inside. The hallway is accented with red paint above dark oak wainscoting. Rich tapestries and replicas of famous paintings hang on the walls and golden sconces light the way, with imitation candles glowing softly behind the frosted glass. There’s a faint scent of jasmine in the air and strangely exotic instrumental music is being piped in through unseen speakers, lending a sense of erotic mystery to the whole scene. It’s as if somebody took everything they thought exuded class and style and just threw it all in here, hoping for the best.
I hear a door close somewhere up ahead of me, so I set off down the hallway. There are doors set into both sides of the hall at staggered intervals and as I pass, I hear the sound of muffled voices, most of them moaning and crying out as whatever sexual fantasy is being played out behind it.
Each door is labeled with a brass number and as I turn down the hall and pass door number four, I hear the unmistakable crack of flesh meeting flesh, quickly followed by Olivia’s voice crying out. The only word I’m able to make out is “daddy,” which sets a wave of nausea churning in my belly.
“So fucking wrong,” I mutter to myself.
I don’t know which door it was I heard closing, but I pass half a dozen more, each of them filled with the sound of some sort of kinky sex going on. But the hallway branches to the right, and at the end is a door that bears no number on it. Instead, there is a red and white sign warning that it’s for authorized personnel only. I stare at it for a second and a nagging voice in the back of my mind tells me to turn back and get out of there. But the rational part of my mind – by far the loudest – tells me this is the only doorway Owen could have gone through.
Every other room I passed had the sounds of some deviancy and perversion issuing from behind it. And given that I was only a few seconds behind Owen, it stands to reason that he and his blonde date couldn’t have started getting their freak on that quickly. I know from experience that Owen likes to take his time and warm things up with some heavy making out before he gets down to business.
That leaves only this door, which raises a question in my head – how is he authorized personnel? I know for a fact he’s not an employee, so what is he doing behind that door?
Knowing there’s only one way to get the answers I want, I reach out and turn the knob, expecting it to be locked. I’m surprised, though, when it turns in my hand. I
pull it open quietly and step inside, taking care to shut it just as quietly behind me. I’m plunged into the darkness of another short hallway. At the end is a thick vinyl strip curtain, so I creep to it and push the opaque strips aside, peering into what looks like a large warehouse.
Most of the warehouse is dark, blanketed in thick pools of inky shadow. But there are a few lights on up near a metal roll-up door, and the rumble of a truck engine fills the area. I step out into the warehouse, picking my way along, darting between stacks of crates and shelves loaded with a variety of different things.
I finally get to a spot where I can see that metal door, just in time to see a large, burly man shutting the rear doors on a delivery truck. Samuel is standing there, watching, with his hands in his pockets. But where is Owen? And the blonde? Are they in the truck? And if so, why? What in the hell is going on?
The driver walks back to Samuel and hands him a manila envelope. I watch Samuel open it and inspect the contents. He nods to the driver and claps him on the shoulder. They talk to each other easily, laughing like old friends. I can’t hear what they’re saying over the steady thrum of the truck’s engine, but the driver lights up a cigarette and Samuel follows suit.
My mind is spinning a thousand miles a minute and I have absolutely no idea what’s going on – or where Owen is. I have a feeling, though, that I’m more likely to get caught snooping than have my questions answered right now, so with Samuel occupied with the driver, I make my way to the door I came through and step into the hallway that will lead me back to the club.
I’m trembling with uncertainty and a strange sense of foreboding and fear. I don’t know what I saw and am trying to puzzle it out as I walk down the hall, the moans and screams coming from the rooms all around serving to distract me. I’m so busy trying to cut through the noise and put some order to my thoughts that I’m only vaguely aware of a door opening and then run smack dab into somebody coming out.
I look up, an apology on my lips, when I see Owen staring down at me. His eyes are wider than dinner plates and a look of absolute shock is etched into his every feature. He quickly closes the door behind him and takes me by the arm, dragging me back toward the club.
“What in the hell are you doing here, Winter?” he demands, his voice edged with something that sounds like panic.
It’s only when we’re out of the hallway and back in the club that I’m able to shake off the paralysis that has gripped my brain from the moment I ran into him in the hallway. And it’s only then that the scattered fragments of images and thoughts that have been swirling around in my head coalesce into something recognizable. I look up at him, a fresh horror dawning on me – I ran into him coming out of room number four.
“You’re fucking Olivia,” I gasp.
“What? No. No way,” he replies. “Not even.”
“You were coming out of the room she was in with Donovan,” I growl. “You and that fucking blonde I saw you with.”
I see panic in his face as he looks at me. He clutches my upper arms, his eyes wide and pleading.
“Please. Winter. This is not the place for this,” he starts. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk. This really is not what you think. I swear to God, it’s not.”
I wrench myself out of his grip again, rage and disgust burning inside of me. My vision is growing blurry and it takes me a minute to realize it’s because of the tears welling in my eyes. I bite down viciously on the inside of my cheek, willing the tears not to fall. The last thing I want to do is cry in front of him. Owen doesn’t deserve my tears.
“Right. I’m sure it’s not,” I hiss. “Just… go back to Olivia and the blonde and have your four-way with her boyfriend.”
Owen reaches for me again but I dance back out of his grasp and put my finger up in warning. He quickly backs down, his mouth opening and closing as if he’s searching for the words but is coming up empty.
“Just leave me alone,” I spit. “Don’t call me ever again. I don’t want anything to do with you.”
“Winter, I–”
“Fuck off, Owen.”
I didn’t even know I’d moved until I feel the impact jar me from wrist to shoulder. My hand stings and it takes me a second to realize I’d lashed out and slapped him. Owen’s head rocks to the side, a flaming red handprint – my handprint – already burning on his cheek. All around us, conversation stops, and I feel the weight of eyes on me.
That’s when the dam of my self-control falters and the tears start to flow down my cheeks. I turn away and dash through the club. I just need to get out of here, to get away from Owen and Olivia and all this bullshit. What in the hell was I thinking, letting myself get drawn into this crowd? What was I thinking, letting myself get caught up in Owen? I know his type. He’s the kind of guy who thinks he can have any girl he wants – and usually gets them. And I’m just one more fucking idiot who fell for his charms.
As I all but run down the hallway, I reach out for the door when it opens and I’m sent sprawling forward. Strong arms catch me before I can fall, and when I look up, I see Asher staring down at me. The broad smile that had been on his lips fades when he sees my tears.
“Hey, are you okay?” he asks.
I sniff loudly. “No, I’m pretty fucking far from okay, Asher.”
He gets me to my feet, and I let him guide me away from the door and out into the parking lot, away from the bouncer who looks after us curiously.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“I just – I want to go home. I need to get out of here.”
He looks at me for a long moment and then nods. “Okay, let me give you a ride. Let’s get you out of here.”
Lacking any better options, I offer him a weak smile. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
“Sure.”
He walks me over to his truck and opens the door for me. It’s tall so I have to stand on the running board to climb in, but he helps me up. After closing the door behind me, he walks around the front and climbs in behind the wheel. He starts the engine as I huddle against the door, angrily wiping away the tears that are still sliding down my cheeks. As we pull out of the parking space, I see Owen standing at the door of the club, watching us. If Asher sees him, he doesn’t say anything as he puts the truck in gear and drives out of the lot.
Chapter Thirteen
We ride in silence for about fifteen minutes, the only sound coming from my sniffling as I silently kick myself for being so stupid. Asher leans over and opens the glove box, then pulls out a pack of tissues and hands them to me.
“Sounds like you might need these,” he says.
I pull a tissue out of the pack and use it to blow my nose. I crumple it up and pull another one out to wipe my eyes. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
He doesn’t say anything else for a long few minutes, giving me time to compose myself. When I finally feel like I’m something close to a human being again, I sit up and look over at him. Asher’s staring straight ahead, his eyes fixed on the road before us.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your night like this,” I offer.
He waves me off. “It’s no big deal. Besides, you looked like you needed a hand.”
“I appreciate you running me all the way home.”
He gives me a grin. “You’re welcome,” he says. “So, what happened? What did Owen do this time?”
A weak laugh bubbles out of my mouth and I dab at my eyes again. “I didn’t even know he was there,” I tell him. “I was there with Olivia and I saw him with somebody. A blonde.”
Asher nods but says nothing, and I get the impression he knew Owen was seeing somebody else. I want to lash out at him, too – bro code or not, he should have told me. My anger wants to make me rage and scream at him for not saying anything, but I rein it in. It’s not his fault. He didn’t do this to me. This was all Owen.
“I didn’t know,” he says, as if reading my thoughts. “I had no idea he had somebody on the side, if that’s what you’re
thinking.”
I look at him for a long moment. He sounds sincere but, as I’ve learned, my own judgment can’t be trusted when it comes to boys I find attractive. Clearly, I’m more than willing to give them the benefit of the doubt – even when everything inside of me is telling me not to.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Swear to God, Winter,” he says earnestly. “I honestly didn’t know he was seeing somebody else. Personally, I thought he was all caught up in you. You’re all he talks about.”
“Clearly, he wasn’t caught up enough to keep him from fucking somebody else.”
“Are you sure this isn’t just some misunderstanding?” he asks. “I mean, maybe she’s just a friend–”
“Pretty sure you don’t take your friends into the club’s fuck rooms.”
Asher’s smirk is wry. “No, I guess not.”
He’s the last person I would have ever thought I’d bare my soul to. But I open my mouth and the entire story comes rushing out in a torrent. I tell him everything that happened from the moment I got to the club to the moment he caught me falling out of the door. I’m not normally the type to unload like that on a good friend – let alone somebody like Asher, who’s more of an acquaintance – but once I started speaking, I couldn’t shut myself up.
Through it all, though, he just listened. He didn’t interrupt me or try to downplay my feelings or mansplain anything to me. He just heard me out, with a look of absolute compassion and understanding on his face. It’s not something I would have ever expected from him. When I finish, he looks over at me, a small frown upon his lips.
“I’m really sorry that happened to you, Winter,” he says. “I’m sorry Owen did that. But don’t worry, I’m going to have a talk with him–”
I shake my head. “No, please don’t. It’ll only make things worse,” I tell him. “I think it’s best for all concerned if I just put it behind me. Sooner, rather than later. I appreciate it, though.”
He looks at me again and gives me a small nod. “Okay. If that’s what you want, I won’t say anything. I just think it’s a total dick move,” he adds. “You didn’t deserve that. You deserve a lot better than that shit, in fact.”
