If I Could I'd Wish It All Away (I Wish Book 1)

by Lisa Helen Gray

  “No worries.” She grins, giving us a knowing look.

  “Where’s the DJ?” Dean asks his mom, looking around.

  “He’s setting up still. He got stuck in traffic,” she explains, rolling her eyes. “We’ll be starting the auctions soon.”

  My eyes are wide as I take in the room. There are business-men everywhere, some with elegant looking women on their arms and some prowling the room like they’re searching for a woman for the night. Everyone looks beautiful, and I’m so proud of Pagan and Lily for pulling this off.

  According to Lily, they’ve already raised thirty thousand from ticket sales. With the items being auctioned off, they’ll raise a lot more.

  “I’m going to show Lola around and introduce her to a few people,” Dean says, pulling me away from his mom and dad. I give her a smile and a quick wave.

  “That was rude,” I playfully scold.

  “I want to dance.” He grins, and I’m about to mention there’s no music when Ed Sheeran’s “Thinking Out Loud” starts in the background.

  When he pulls me into his arms, I throw my head back and laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck. “You’re terrible.” I smile up at him.

  “I love you.” He kisses the tip of my nose.

  “I love you too.” I blush, then place my head on his shoulder, swaying with him to the beautiful melody.

  *** *** ***

  Throughout the evening I’ve managed to walk around the room a thousand times, Dean introducing me to a million people. Some are nice and polite, but then there are the few I’ve desperately wanted to kick in the balls.

  The best part of the night so far has to be the auction. They raised thousands of pounds, more than I expected, and it was overwhelming to be a part of that.

  Dean and I arrive at the group of men Lily referred to as pompous asses. They’re also the men who are the main beneficiaries for tonight’s event. It’s the only reason Dean is going over to say hello; otherwise, I think he’d have gladly avoided them like he has since we arrived.

  Looking at the men before me, I can tell instantly that they’re filthy rich and arrogant as hell about it. Hell, the second I met their gazes as we walked towards them they all zeroed in on my breasts, staring shamelessly.

  It was disrespectful, not only to me but to Dean.

  I’m not the only woman they’ve been disrespectful to either. They’ve spoken crudely about the other women around them as if they’re sexual objects and not actual human beings. It’s disgusting and if it weren’t for the fact Dean had to play nice, and I didn’t want to embarrass him, I’d have walked away from them all.

  The CEO of their company introduces himself to me while Dean stands a few feet to the side, speaking to another gentleman. We were originally standing together, but the man pulled Dean aside to have a quiet word.

  Thankfully they didn’t move too far, but still, I wish I was next to Dean and not in front of this sleaze-ball.

  “Hello, Miss Lola. It’s a pleasure to meet such a beautiful woman. I’m Jordan Wallace II, CEO and one of the top ten millionaire bachelors in the U.K,” he states proudly, going as far as to place a kiss on each of my cheeks. When he pauses a minute too long, I start to feel uncomfortable, so I pull away, forcing a smile.

  I take another step back, putting some much-needed personal space between us. He seems like the sort of man who thinks that introducing himself the way he did will get him what he wants. I’m not going to feed his ego by pretending to find him remotely interesting.

  “Right. Nice meeting you,” I mutter before turning to walk towards Dean. I pause, finding him still chatting away, and sigh sadly.

  Jordan Wallace II, III or whatever, takes my distraction as a means to step in front of me, blocking my view of Dean. I want to growl and kick him in the shin for being so rude.

  “Would you like a drink?” he asks, and I shake my head, holding up my full flute of champagne.

  My eyes widen in disgust as he blatantly stares at my breasts, his eyes filled with a sickening lust as he readjusts his junk.

  I cringe when I see his obvious erection. Did he just manoeuvre that so it stood out? Ew, that’s so freaking gross!

  He catches me off guard while I’m still staring at his junk in horror and my cheeks burn, but not for the reasons he’s most likely conjuring up.

  Crap, this is embarrassing.

  He ignores the disgust and horror on my face and takes my junk glance as an invitation to step into my personal space. Thankfully, before he can get too close, Pagan shows up, stepping between us with a big grin on her face.

  “Lola, Jordan,” she greets, looking at him with distaste. I don’t even care why because at that moment, I want to kiss her.

  “Pagan,” he mutters staring at her like he wishes he could make her disappear.

  “Hi, how you doing?” I ask, enthusiastically “Tonight has been amazing.” I try to keep my voice bright as I move away from Jordan, ignoring the way his eyes narrow.

  “Oh, it’s been a great night, I agree. Don’t you think, Jordan?” she asks him, smiling tightly.

  “Yeah,” he says, not interested.

  “Anyway… I came over for a reason, Lola. I need a huge favour from you. Can you come help me in the kitchen? We’ve had to get new champagne flutes since some waiter dropped the crate and ended up smashing the three boxes we had left. We need help getting them out,” she says, her eyes pleading.

  “Oh no! I’m glad you’ve got replacements,” I tell her sincerely.

  I really should thank that waiter. Maybe even tip him for having the perfect timing.

  “Yeah, we had some spares in the barn.”

  “Okay, well point me in the right direction.” I smile, eager to get out of here.

  We manage to move away from Jordan, his presence long forgotten. We don’t even bother saying goodbye or even acknowledge him. Once we’re out of earshot, I turn to her, sagging with relief.

  “Thank you so much. You’ve just saved my life,” I say dramatically.

  “It’s my pleasure. I saw him eye fucking you from over there.” She points across the room to where she must have been standing before she came over. “I thought I’d rescue you from the pervert whilst Dean is occupied. I swear, that mooch is only talking to Dean so Mr Pervert could make a move on you. I’ve seen it before. Jordan gives me the creeps. He tried it on with me last year, but Sid intervened, thank God. And I’m pretty sure a woman in the bathroom was just talking about him, warning her friend to stay away from him. Make sure you do the same,” she tells me, her nose scrunched up in disgust.

  She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I plan on staying as far away as possible.

  “Oh, I plan to. He gives me the heebie-jeebies.” I shudder. “Anyway, where do you need me?”

  She giggles, trying to look innocent. “It was just a tactic to get you away from him.”

  “Good one.” I laugh, but then a thought occurs to me. “So there’s no issue with the champagne flutes?”

  “Oh yeah, the bloody idiot is going to have them taken out of his pay cheque,” she seethes.

  “I can help if you want me to. I have nothing else to do, and it would be good to get away from everyone for a bit.”

  I don’t want her to think I’m not enjoying myself because I am, but the crowd is becoming too much for me.

  “C’mon then, let’s get you to work,” she says, not looking offended in the slightest.

  An hour passes by quickly, and when there’s no sign of Grandpa, I start to get worried. He should have been by hours ago to collect the keys for Dean’s place. His flight isn’t even long; it’s twenty minutes at the most, and according to the flight plan he gave me, there were no delays. He hasn’t even called or texted, which isn’t like him.

  “Is everything okay?” Dean asks as I look down at my phone.

  “Yeah, I was just checking Grandpa’s flight and if he’s called,” I explain.

  “He hasn’t called?” Someone walks up to h
im, asking about his P.I business. “Excuse me for a second,” he tells the bloke. His jaw ticks, looking pissed at being interrupted.

  “No, it’s fine. I’m going to go outside and call him, see where he is,” I tell him, moving to leave.

  He grabs my arm, stopping me and stepping closer. “I’ll come with you,” he offers.

  I look behind him at the man waiting impatiently to talk to him, and sigh. “It’s fine, really. You need to mingle. I’ll only be a few minutes, and then I’ll come back in and find you. Okay?” He looks torn, so I lean up on my toes and kiss him. “I’ll be fine. Five minutes top.”

  “Okay, but don’t be long,” he warns before kissing me quickly.

  “Promise.” I smile.

  I walk through the crowds of people, heading for the entrance. Getting there takes a little longer than I expect and when I step outside, I groan, wishing I’d used my brain to bring a coat along with me. The night air is cold, and I shiver, my teeth chattering. “Jesus,” I mutter, my hot breath puffing out in front of me.

  When rubbing my arms doesn’t keep me warm, I begin to walk, needing to keep the blood flowing as I dial my grandpa’s number.

  When I look up and realise I’ve reached the back of the marquee, I stop walking and start to pace instead. The music is quieter here, the area darker since there are only a few lanterns hanging from posts. My grandpa answers suddenly, making me jump.

  “Hello, this is Dwayne Lawson,” he greets all business like.

  “Hi Grandpa, it’s Lola. I was just wondering where you are? I thought you’d be here by now,” I say, worry lacing my tone. It’s not like he could’ve headed straight to Dean’s because he needed to come here first to get the keys. And I know he wouldn’t miss a chance at seeing me, not with everything that’s happened.

  “Lola, I’m sorry, doll. I got held up in a meeting and won't be able to make it until tomorrow. Is everything okay?” he asks, sounding distracted.

  “Yeah, I was just worried. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “I’m sorry doll. How did your meeting go?”

  Although I know he’s genuinely interested, he doesn’t seem like he’s fully with the conversation.

  “She said yes.” I grin down the phone, not able to hide the happiness in my voice. My grandpa knew how much I wanted this to work out, and I’m over the moon that it has.

  “I’m so happy for you. I’ve managed to look over everything the estate agency gave you, and you’re getting a pretty neat deal there. I’ll have everything ready for you and Brooke to sign by the time I get there tomorrow.”

  “I’m really excited. Thank you for doing this for me. What time are you coming tomorrow? Do you need me to pick you up?”

  “No, no, it’s fine. I’ve still got the loan car booked, so I’ll meet you at Mark and Lily’s. My flight leaves at twelve…,” he says, trailing off.

  “Is everything okay? You sound distracted,” I ask, biting my bottom lip.

  Someone approaches me from behind. I can hear their clothes rustling in the wind and their heavy footsteps. Not worried because it’s most likely Dean wondering where I am, I don’t bother to turn around.

  “Everything is fine. It’s just been a long day. I’ll see you tomorrow, honey. Love you,” he says, and again, he sounds like he’s in the middle of something. He almost sounds sad.

  “Love you too,” I tell him.

  “Okay, see you tomorrow, doll. Night,” he says with more enthusiasm before ending the call. I don’t even have time to say goodbye, and I look down at my phone, wondering what the hell is going on.

  Needing to talk to Dean about the weird conversation, I turn around, opening my mouth to say something. Instead of Dean, I find Jordan.

  My heart rate picks up, and my feet freeze to the ground. My palms begin to sweat as I take in his wobbly stature. He’s holding a glass of whisky in one hand, the liquid sloshing over the sides as he takes a step towards me. I don’t move quickly enough because before I know it, he’s close enough for me to smell the alcohol on his breath and I dry heave, literally.

  “Well, well, well. Look who I’ve found.” He grins, looking like he found a million quid. When he takes another step closer, I take one back. But it only makes him move closer, invading my personal space.

  He’s so close. So horribly close.

  The alcohol on his breath blows across my face, and I look away, giving him the time to step even closer, his shirt rubbing against my chest. My pulse picks up, and everything in my head screams at me to run, but my feet are still frozen to the ground. Fear is coursing through my body, and I know nothing good is going to come out of him being here.

  Snapping out of it, I go to take a step back, but he snakes a hand around my waist, roughly pulling me against his chest. Instinctively, I reach out, palms up, to push him away, but his hold on me is too strong.

  When he leans in to me, I think he’s going to kiss me, so I move my head to the side to dodge his advance, still struggling to get free. He uses my dismissal as a challenge and starts kissing my neck, licking and biting until bile rises in my throat and I have to swallow it back down.

  “No! No! Get off me,” I cry, trying to push him away as I tremble with fear.

  “Feel how hard I am for you. Can you feel it?” he slurs. “I bet you’re wet for me too,” he purrs in my ear, and I gag again, trying to push him away.

  My chest is rising and falling, working towards a panic attack. No matter how hard I try to control my breathing, nothing works.

  If I get lost in a panic attack, I’ll either pass out or be sick, and both will end up leaving me vulnerable.

  My boobs are already bulging out of my dress because of how hard and heavy my breathing is. That’s all the vulnerability I can take at the moment. I just want to get away, to find Dean.

  “Let me go now. Please,” I beg, trying to sound confident, but it only comes out weak and pathetic.

  Struggling only causes his grip to tighten, nearly cutting off my circulation as my panic increases. I try to wrench free from his hold again, but he’s too strong, even for someone who is clearly drunk.

  What is it with me letting men having this control? Why do I find myself in these situations? Am I cursed?

  He pushes his erection into my belly whilst keeping up with his assault on my neck no matter how hard I try to wiggle free. Vomit rises in my throat, and I swallow it back down, tasting like acid.

  No! I’m not going to let this happen, I scream inwardly, adrenaline pumping through my veins. Knowing it’s now or never, I stamp down hard on his foot, making sure to use the heel of my stilettos. He screams in pain and before he has a chance to recover, I bring my knee up to his groin.

  I’m momentarily stunned as he falls to the ground holding his junk, proud that I made him crumble to the floor, screaming in agony. Taking the opportunity to run away, I move, but I don’t get far. My split second of hesitation was a second too long, and he manages to recover quicker than I expected, reaching out and grabbing my ankle. I fall to the floor and face-plants in the dirt, my head hitting something hard and rough.

  Not letting myself register the pain, knowing it won’t do me any good, I scream as loud as I can. I call Dean’s name out, begging him to come help me, and when that doesn’t work, I simply scream for help.

  My throat feels raw and dry, though I don’t let it stop me as I keep trying to scurry away from him on my stomach

  If I can get closer to the marquee, then someone will hear me.

  Jordan pulls at the end of my dress, and I look down, my eyes connecting with his. I gasp, my eyes widening with fear when I see the dead, predatory look in his. He looks like he’s out for blood reminding me of Jack Torrance from The Shining.

  He tugs harder on my dress when I keep kicking out at him and manages to pull it down a little. I stop struggling, not wanting to aid him in removing it. Wiggling is only going to make it easier for him, and I’m not going down without a fight. Not this time. Not again. />
  He manages to get on top of me, placing his legs on either side of me. He kneels over my legs, pressing them together with his thighs so I can’t kick him, and a frustrated sob escapes me. I can’t move, not with him trapping me beneath him, his hands pinning my wrists in a tight grip.

  I scream out as he reaches for me with his free hand, an evil sneer on his face as he rips my dress, right between my breasts. I hear him moan and start to undo the buckle on his belt frantically, his breathing ragged. I begin to thrash harder this time, ignoring his erection pressing against my stomach.

  With each move I make, he moans and rubs against me, acting like it’s some sort of sick foreplay.

  I try everything I can think of to get him off me, to stop this from happening, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t get free of men like him.

  “Please, let me go. Get off me.” Frustrated sobs break free as I beg, tears falling down my cheeks.

  “You’re a cock tease, dressed like a fucking slut. You’re nothing but a one-night fuck and baby, I promise I’ll make it feel real good,” he snarls, hovering his lips over my mouth.

  I pull away, thrashing my head from side to side, wailing for someone to come help me. And for the first time I realise I’m fighting back; no matter what happens now, at least I know I tried. With Rick I never got the chance to fight back, never had that strength, but now I am, and a little hope sparks inside me as adrenaline pumps through my body.

  My punching and scratching doesn’t even faze him or slow him down. It’s like I’m not even there; I’m just a mere object getting in the way of what he wants, and he’ll tear me limb from limb to get it.

  Closing my eyes, I pray for someone to hear my cries, to come and help me but I never once give up trying to fight.

  I gasp for air when Jordan’s weight is lifted off me, a relieved sob breaking free.

  My prayers have been answered.

  I’m pulled into a warm embrace, but the fear inside me is manifested so deep I don’t know left from right. I begin to scream, my ears ringing from the sound, and instinctively try to break free again. They only hold me tighter, and I’m about to fight back harder when I suck in a lungful of air. Everything stops and I instantly relax into the person holding me when I recognise who it is.