CHAPTER TEN
One Month Later
“I’d like a Grey Goose Martini, please,” a woman requests, sitting down at the bar. She’s a regular, here every Wednesday night, by far the slowest night of the week. I fetch the vodka.
It took me a month to get back on my feet after getting fired from Scott Industries, and losing Benjamin. The disbelief, anger, and pain overwhelmed me to depths I had never reached before. None of the time I spent with Benjamin meant anything to him. He never called, never asked to talk, never wanted an explanation.
It took me a while to accept that he meant much more to me than I did to him.
Sometimes at night I still catch myself going through every conversation, every interaction we ever had. I try to figure out why he is incapable of commitment, why he truly expelled me from his life. We were blissful that morning. He didn’t seem to be regretting anything that was happening.
Remembering the good forces me to remember the bad, remember how he treated me the last time we spoke, and I experience a kind of rage that could boil my blood.
In a daze, I hand the woman her drink and go to finish inventory. About a week after I left Scott Industries, a newspaper published pictures of Benjamin with a lanky blonde. She was strikingly beautiful, the ideal woman he’d want on his arm.
It nearly ripped my heart out.
Not even a week after us and he was already back to his old habits.
I couldn’t even face Doris. She’s called a couple times, no doubt after hearing how much of a horrible person I was.
“Darcy? Could you go get my dry cleaning?” my boss, Marilyn, calls down from the steel stairs leading to her office. She’s a badass woman, tattoos covering nearly every inch of her. She’s also one of the nicest people I have ever met.
“Yeah, sure thing.” I take off my apron and head up to her office. Kevin takes my place behind the bar, at home in the dark spirited atmosphere surrounding him. I have to say I like being here. It’s decent money with tips and the company isn’t bad. I’m beginning to trust people again.
“Here’s the money. I have to run out of here. I have a date.” She smooths out the tight black number hugging every inch of her body. Marilyn is a serial dater. She has a different date nearly every night, so this is nothing new.
“Call me from the bathroom if you need saving.” I snicker, taking the money, and she rolls her eyes, gawking at me.
“That was once!”
“Sure.” I laugh, knowing she’s done it probably fifteen times.
“I should set you up with someone, like, seriously.” She puts on her coat and picks up her purse. “When was the last time you got lucky? You always look so tense.”
Last time I got lucky was in a shower, and it was the best experience of my life. There’s been no one since, and that’s okay. I knew Benjamin would tangle my world into knots. I can still feel his breath against my lips, hear the groans as he moved within me. Sometimes I can feel him touching me. I know it’s my imagination. He’s never there, but for a brief moment, I feel safe.
“I’m good. I don’t want a relationship right now.”
“Then don’t look for a relationship. Just find some hot dude for a night.” She cackles loudly, scrunching her petite nose my way. “You’re a prude, but I love you. Now go get my clothes.”
I follow her down the stairs and head to the back for my purse. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I underwent what can only be described as a post breakup makeover. I sliced off my waist-length black hair, cutting it to shoulder length. Striving for a fiercer, more sophisticated look, I wear more makeup now. I like the change. This job requires you to look good.
Today I’m wearing a leather skirt, paired with a dangerously low-cut black t-shirt. I switch out of my boots into flats for the long walk to the dry cleaners and reapply my red lipstick.
“I’ll be back, Kevin.”
“Sure thing.”
***
“That will be fifty dollars.” The woman behind the register smiles and I hand the money in exact change.
Fifty dollars? For dry cleaning?
“Have a nice day.” I turn to leave and nearly slam right into a solid wall of a body.
Holy shit. It’s Dimitri.
After a fleeting look of shock at our collision, he smiles. “Miss.”
“Hi, Dimitri. I have—I need—I’m leaving now,” I stutter awkwardly, tripping over myself as I stumble out of the shop. What I didn’t realize right away was that there was a huge possibility he wasn’t alone.
I stare straight into the black limousine, paling when I spot Benjamin through the tinted windows.
Time didn’t change anything. He’s still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
He glances my way, double-taking when his eyes lock on mine.
I clutch the dry cleaning bag and hurry away from the vehicle, swerving through the crowds of noisy pedestrians.
“Darcy!” he calls out behind me, but I pick up the pace, sprinting now.
Keep moving, Darcy. Keep moving.
He pulls me to a stop, spinning me around.
He regards me with astonishment, his breath short from running after me.
“It is you.”
“Leave me alone.” I turn away from him, but he pulls me right back.
“Stop,” he growls. “Darcy, I need to talk to you. Give me ten minutes.”
I’ve imagined so many times what I would do if I saw him again. It was always between kissing him or hitting him. I’m leaning toward the second option right now.
“Mr. Scott, I’m sorry but I have some place to be.” I emphasize his name, hoping he remembers his insistence on me calling him by his last name. I’m glad to catch the moment when his gaze falters with shame.
“Please,” he says, backing up. “Ten minutes.”
How dare he ask me to do anything for him?
I’m still frozen in place when Benjamin walks up to Dimitri by the car and tells him we are going to the coffee shop across the street.
“Come,” Benjamin murmurs when he gets back to me, pressing a telling hand to my back.
***
I wrap my frozen hands around the coffee cup, staring down into the liquid. Across the table from me, Benjamin hasn’t spoken yet but I can feel his piercing green eyes on me.
When I find the courage to look up at him, I don’t like what I see. His brows are furrowed. He’s assessing me carefully.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
He shrugs. “You look different, that’s all.”
“Is that a bad thing? I happen to like the way I look.” I scowl, feeling extremely defensive.
“No, it’s not a bad thing.”
“Why am I here? What else could we possibly have to talk about?” I press after an awkward minute of silence.
“I wanted to apologize for the way I treated you that day in my office. I feel badly about the way I handled the situation.”
Apologize? He wants to apologize? I let that soak in, realizing I have no desire to fall into another trap of his and then my chair screeches as I rise abruptly.
“All right.”
“All right?” he echoes in apparent shock from my venomous tone.
“Yes, all right. You’ve told me. Thanks.”
He blinks with incredulity, his face twisted with barely contained emotions. “Do you forgive me, Darcy?”
“No.” I shake my head. “You don’t get to say a couple of words and fix this. You don’t give a shit about me, and if you think I’m going to roll over and play nice with you, you’re sorely mistaken.”
I reach into my purse, take out my wallet, grab a five, and drop it onto the table.
He glares at me in frustration. “Can we please talk civilly for just one fucking second?”
“How dare you ask me for civility when the last time I spoke to you, you threw me out of your office! I did nothing wrong! Nothing! I’m not going to apologize, so I hope that’s not why
you made me come here.”
“I didn’t make you do anything.”
What. The. Fuck.
Having heard enough, I storm from the café.
“You wanted to talk to me just as much as I wanted to with you!” Benjamin exclaims, following close behind me.
“Is this some kind of sick joke?” I don’t even care that people are looking.
“Darcy, stop! Just listen to me for a second.” He rushes in front of me, but I dodge him and keep walking back toward the bar.
“Leave me alone, Benjamin. I mean it!” I seethe, yanking his hand off my arm.
I don’t look back to see if he’s following me. I can’t. My chest is drumming rapidly, for the first time in months, but I don’t care. He can’t just show up in my life like that. It’s taken me so long to try and forget the time we spent together.
When I shove open the door to the bar, the place is still pretty empty. There are now three chairs taken. Kevin is dancing behind the counter to some techno music coming from the radio. I stomp up the stairs to Marilyn’s office and push the door open.
Good, she’s not here. I don’t think I could explain to her what just happened. I hang her dry cleaning on the coat rack with trembling, useless fingers.
I had no idea seeing him would excite me, scare me, as much as it has. Even though we were fighting, the attraction was there. At least it was there on my part. He was more beautiful than I remembered him to be.
When I come down the stairs, Kevin beams widely. “I didn’t see you come back. How long have you been here?”
“Just got in…and now I’m off. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You just got a call. A guy!” Kevin calls out, and it stops me in my tracks.
“Who was it?”
He makes his way over to me, drying a glass. “I had no idea you knew Benjamin Scott!”
My mouth flattens in disdain. How does he know where I work?
“He sounded like he really wanted to talk. He asked for you to call him tonight, said you had his number?” He’s gaping at me like he’s supposed to know these aspects of my life.
“We dated once. A while ago,” I admit reluctantly.
“What happened? Why did you stop?”
“It doesn’t matter now. I’m not going to call him.”
“Then give him to me! Girl, I’d never let that man go. Have you seen what he looks like?”
“I know only too well what he looks like. I just ran into him on the road. That’s probably why he’s calling.”
“And you were going to tell me this when?” he exclaims, tugging on my hand. “I don’t care what you say. You have to tell me everything. Leave nothing out!”
***
Exhausted, I drop my purse on my bed and shuffle over to the fridge. It’s only a couple of steps. Taking the chilled bottle of wine from the bottom drawer, I remember Benjamin doing the same thing more than a month ago. The day we first kissed.
The perfect first kiss.
His lips crushed to mine with such vigor that my knees became weak. His hands traveled down my body, pushing me into his long, toned abdomen, making me brutally aware of his increasing desire. I remember the moment I felt his thick girth harden against my baggy sweats as he dazzled me with his tongue, licking and stroking mine with unparalleled experience.
My hand is wrapped around my throat; my throat is dry and my cheeks feverish from remembrance. Snapping myself out of the daydream, realizing I’ve dozed off into a dark place in my memories, I grab a glass, pouring a decent amount of wine into it.
After a healthy swig, I set the glass down and start undressing. I’m dying to get out of this skirt. Why anyone makes clothing out of leather is beyond me. It’s incredibly uncomfortable.
After putting on my new favorite article of clothing, a lavender satin nightgown that cost me a small fortune, I drift to my bookshelf and close my eyes. Scanning the different covers with my fingers, I fish out a book at random. When I open them, I frown when I see my old tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice in my hands.
Stuffing it quickly back into the shelf, I climb my bed and scoot under the covers with a huff.
Fucking asshole is a Mr. Wickham.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Kevin! Two scotches on the rocks!” I shout over the deafening crowd in the bar. Friday night is always the worst, but at least the tips are good.
He sets the drinks on the bar, his expression a calm mask of tranquility. He’s been doing this a lot longer than I have. Kevin has been blessed with the gift of a great poker face. The only reason I know he hates crowds as much as I do is because he told me. Otherwise, I would have never known.
I hurry the scotches to the table and head to another. The entire night consists of running around. It’s only during rushes like this that I miss a desk job. There’s only so much groping you can handle from drunk idiots before your night goes to complete shit.
Tonight is one of those nights.
“Doll face, you look stressed. Let me buy you a drink. Sit.”
Who calls someone, “doll face”?
This guy, I guess. Young, sporting the look of a privileged frat boy. Judging by the mob of replicas around him, I’m guessing I hit the nail on the head.
“I’m working.”
He grins. “Five minutes couldn’t hurt.”
His sweaty hand hikes up my skirt. I shove his groping paw away and back up. “Keep your hands to yourself, dick.”
“Aw, I’m sorry! We can wait till later if you want!” He laughs as I storm away, reining in my simmering temper.
Goddamn assholes.
Not even thirty seconds later, I hear a commotion. Kevin is shouting to our bodyguard to break it up. Shit, not another fight.
It’s the blond frat boy. He’s on the floor and there’s a guy on top of him, swinging away at his face.
Wait.
I rush over to the crowd to get a better look. Our bodyguard, Tim, grabs the man on top.
My heart lurches to my stomach.
“Ben!” I shout, shoving my way through the crowd, but he can’t hear me. Tim pushes both of them violently toward the door. “Tim, wait!”
The frat boy is sobbing, his face a bloody mess, and Benjamin is huffing next to him, still being restrained by Tim.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I bark as the wind slices my skin and Benjamin whips his head around. Other than the vicious scowl on his face, he looks unharmed.
“You know this guy?” Tim asks and I nod, swallowing. He lets him go, shaking his head, and goes back inside.
“You fucking dick!” the blond guy screams, clutching his very apparent broken nose. Damn, I actually feel bad for him.
“Get out of here.” I shove Benjamin. “He’s with a lot of people. Hurry. Go!” If people see him, there’s nothing stopping this from holding a large slot of time on the morning news. Not to mention front page news on every paper in the city.
“You’ll be okay?”
“Yes! Yes, I’ll be fine. Go home!”
He runs down to the corner. Where the hell is Dimitri?
I glance at the poor guy on the ground and go back inside. Marilyn is helping out with the bar when I get back.
“Where were you?” she asks.
“Outside. That guy on the ground may need an ambulance.” I take some empty glasses from the counter and put them into a bin.
“Not our problem,” she says, completely engulfed in making drinks.
I continue to work, trying not to wonder about why Benjamin was even here in the first place.
***
As soon as the clock hits three in the morning, I flick off the lights, glad to finally be able to get home. The place has been empty for at least an hour so we could clean. The blood on the floor from the brawl was horrible to clean up. The frat boy’s friends must have gone to get him, because when I got back inside, I didn’t see them.
I retrieve my purse, shut off the last light, and step outside. I’m locking the d
oor when I hear him.
“Your friend really fucked up Harry.”
I spin around, finding three guys blocking my way.
The dark-haired one who spoke is stalking slowly toward me. I step back as far as I can go until I slam into the door. I’m stuck.
“Someone’s going to pay for it. No one hurts our brother and gets away with it,” he growls, bringing his hand up to caress my face.
“I-I didn’t do anything,” I stutter lamely, noticing the other guys stepping up behind the one in front of me.
My heart is frantically beating. I can smell the alcohol on their breaths. His hand crawls up my inner thigh and I go rigid. My mind races through the many maneuvers in my head that I learned in self-defense classes years ago, but my brain is cloudy from fear. One of the other guys yanks a handful of my hair and pulls, and this becomes painfully real. I find my voice.
I scream hoarsely, trying to kick the one that now has his hands over my underwear. I know how to fight, but not this many people.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” I shriek.
The one in front of me covers my mouth and leads me into the alleyway next to the building. I’m fighting with every ounce of strength I have. I bite down on his fingers hard, but he slams his other hand into my face so hard my ears ring.
“Help!” I scream into the darkness.
Their hands are all over me. I can’t see a thing, only shadows. Everything is happening so fast.
I begin to hyperventilate when I feel the cold air on my torso.
No. Please. No.
“Stop! Help!” I sob.
“Shut up!”
A hand covers my mouth. Sweaty palms grab ahold of my legs hard, pushing them apart, and I fight to close them but I can’t. They’re too strong. I raise my knee and push it straight into the groin of the guy in front of me. He grunts and a set of hands leaves my body. I remember from my defense class that the neck is one of the best places to hit someone. I try to see through the darkness but can’t locate an exact spot to hit. They’re moving too much.
Consumed By You (The Consumed Series Book 1) Page 11
