“Thanks,” I say, taking the seat. I put my messenger bag and purse on the floor at my feet.
Mac slides onto the seat next to me and waves for the bartender.
“What can I get you?” asks the heavily tattooed man.
Mac rattles off what he wants and then points to me to place my order.
“Uh … I’ll have water.”
The bar tender disappeared to get our drinks.
“Water? That’s it?” asks Mac. “You can’t come to a bar and order water.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I don’t drink. It’s part of the reason I turn you down every time you ask me to go for drinks.”
The other reason being I know you undress me with your eyes on a daily basis and would love to do it with your hands.
“We didn’t have to come to a bar,” Mac says.
I shrug my shoulders. “I have no problem with other people drinking. I just don’t partake myself and bars aren’t exactly my kind of hangout place.”
“Hmm,” he hums, grabbing his beer the second after the bartender places it on the wooden countertop.
I stare idly at the condensation already forming on my glass of water. The tiny droplets bead and bleed down the glass in maze-like lines before pooling into a puddle on the coaster.
“Hello? Sloane? Are you listening to me?”
“Uh …” That would be a big fat no. I wasn’t paying attention and didn’t know he was even talking. In my defense it is loud in here between the TV and men yelling when the score doesn’t go the way they want.
“I didn’t think so,” snaps Mac, shaking his head. If he hadn’t been so persistent in his quest to get me out, even after many times of being upfront and honest with him that I’m not interested, I’d feel sorry for him. But he knows I don’t see him any other way than as friends and yet he keeps trying to make something happen. After a pause, he asks, “Is it because of the money?”
“What?” I blurt, not following.
“Were you only with Dev because of his money? Is that why you’re sidling up to his brother now that he’s gone?” Mac’s green eyes seem to pale and narrow on me with judgment.
I gasp offended. “How dare you say such a thing,” I spit, my eyes burning with anger and hurt anyone, especially someone I’d consider somewhat a friend, would think such a thing of me. “I loved Dev with all my heart. How dare you—how dare you question that,” I choke, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Siva is simply helping me out because he feels he owes it to Dev to take care of me. Siva and Dev didn’t have much of a relationship. Mac, I can’t believe you would think I was that shallow.”
“I’m sorry,” says Mac, and to give him credit he does look contrite.
“I should go,” I say, grabbing my stuff. I didn’t want to be here in the first place and now I really don’t want to be here.
“No, please stay. I’ll be on my best behavior,” Mac pleads, putting his hand over mine with a light pressure.
“All right,” I agree reluctantly—mostly because I’m sure if I end the night early he’ll continue to beg me to go out.
“Thanks for coming,” he says.
“No problem. We’re friends,” I remind him. We weren’t good friends, more like work buddies, but I felt it important to remind him of this aspect of our relationship.
I swear he rolls his eyes.
He nurses his beer and keeps an eye on the TV. I take a sip of water and risk a glance at my watch. How much longer will I have to stay in order not to seem rude?
Is five more seconds acceptable?
Probably not, unfortunately.
“So,” begins Mac, turning to me and away from the big screen, “any big plans for the weekend?” he questions.
“None that I know of. I’ll probably hang around in the house, watching bad movies, and eating way too many chocolate chip cookies. What about you?”
Mac chuckles and signals the bartender to bring him another beer. My water is still full.
“My parents are coming to visit. So, I’ll have to listen to my dad tell me what a failure I am,” Mac groans, dropping his head as he nurses his second beer.
“You’re not a failure, Mac,” I say softly.
“Aren’t I?” he asks. “My dad wanted me to be a lawyer and I did law school for a while but decided it wasn’t for me and here I am today,” he says spreading his arms wide. “My dad’s never quite gotten over it. I’m the dropout. The family pariah.”
“I think kids are made to disappoint their parents,” I reason. “Do you think my mom wanted me to come here?”
Mac shakes his head. “Sloane, you could never be a disappointment.”
“Whatever you say.” I shrug and sip my now warm water. I don’t remind him I constantly disappoint him by turning him down.
We lapse into easy conversation from there and it’s a huge relief to me to have some of the tension disappear.
That is until Mac is halfway through his third beer.
His hand creeps up my calf, to my knee, and then under my skirt to the top of my thigh. Every muscle in my body tightens. My pulse pounds in my ears like the roar of an ocean. His hand creeps even higher and sweat beads on my forehead.
You’d think in this situation I’d shove his hand away, but honestly I’m so taken aback by his boldness I freeze, unable to move.
After a moment, I manage to gather my wits before his hand can get any higher. “I need some air,” I say, jumping up from my seat. I grab my bags and run out the door. I can still feel his fingers creeping over my skin despite their absence.
Fresh spring air floods my lungs as I exit the bar. I duck around the corner of the building, out of sight of the window, but in sight of the street, and pull out my phone. I call Siva. He’s programed all of his information into my phone. I’m not even surprised.
“Kapur,” he answers.
“Siva, it’s me,” I say breathlessly, my cheeks are flushed and it’s not from having had a drink.
“Sloane, what’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I try to hastily recover my composure. “I-I’m ready to get picked up. I’m across the street from my work.”
“I’ll be there soon,” he says.
“Thank you,” I breathe, but he’s already hung up.
I try to blend into the shadows and draw as little attention to myself as possible. Despite it being spring the air is quite nippy, but at least it’s not raining. Still, I wish desperately I had a sweater. I wrap my arms around myself and lean against the building. Time seems to slow down. I hum a tune to myself to fill the never-ending silence and wish I could twitch my nose and be at Siva’s flat.
A man exits the bar and looks both ways before pausing when his glance lands in my direction. I sink further into the shadows wishing I could melt into the wall.
It’s the worst decision I could ever make.
He saunters toward me at a slightly awkward gait. I recognize him instantly and know this can’t be good.
Oh, shit, oh shit, oh shit.
I suddenly realize how weak and defenseless I am. I have my purse, which is heavy enough to do a little damage, but I know not enough to ward off someone so much larger than me.
You stupid idiot, why didn’t you get some pepper spray or a pocketknife or something?
“Sloane,” he leers. “I believe you’ve had enough fresh air.”
“No, not enough yet, sorry. Give me another minute and I’ll be back in,” I squeak in fear. I hate how small my voice is now, and the way he smiles he knows I’m scared.
“Sloane, Sloane, Sloane,” he clucks his tongue and his beer-ridden breath engulfs me. He unexpectedly shoves me against the brick exterior and it knocks the breath out of me. Both of his hands rest close to my body while he uses the rest to press into me, preventing any sort of escape. Fear ensnares me like a vicious drug. He spreads my legs with his thigh. At least my skirt is long enough he can’t spread them a lot.
“Sloane,” he breathes into my hair. I want to sc
ream at him to stop saying my name. I’ve never ever hated my name before, but in this moment I do. Tears threaten to leak out of my eyes. His hands move down to my legs, lifting my skirt, while his body presses me forcefully into the wall. The bulge in his pants rubs against my leg and bile rises in my throat. My heart roars like a thundering train in my ears. It’s so loud I can’t even hear anything on the street.
“Mac, please don’t do this. This isn’t you. You’re a good guy. You’re not this.” And by this, I mean not a rapist. “Please.” I try to shove at his shoulders with mine but I can barely move them. “MacAuley!” I scream and try once again to shove him away but it’s futile. I never realized how weak I was until this moment. How utterly fucking defenseless I am.
“Come on, baby, I know you want me. You always have,” he rasps in my ear, in what I know he thinks is a sexy voice.
It only serves to gross me out even more.
His tongue roams from the dip in the top of my dress, up my neck, to my chin, before he settles his mouth forcefully on mine. Air can’t even breach my lungs. Panic ebbs and flows through my veins. I hope I have an adrenaline spike or whatever it is people have that gives them the strength to lift cars. His lips lock on mine. One hand disappears from my body while the other keeps me forcefully pinned to the wall. I try to wiggle away from him but it doesn’t work. I try to scream but his lips quiets the sound.
I hear the telltale sound of his zipper being pulled down and my blood runs cold.
I close my eyes as the tears start to fall. I can’t believe this is about to happen.
“Please, please, don’t do this,” I cry into his mouth. “This isn’t you, Mac. I know it’s not. This is wrong. You know it is,” I ramble, hoping to break through to the sensible part of his brain.
But it doesn’t work. Who knows how many more beers he had in my absence. He’s gone from drunk to completely wasted with no common sense whatsoever.
He groans in the back of his throat, not like he’s at war with himself, no it’s the kind of groan a man can only have when he’s turned on. How the fuck can he be turned on by the sobbing, fighting, pleading mess that’s me? The hand that has me pinned to the wall suddenly goes around my neck closing off any form of oxygen.
“Shut up, bitch,” he growls, his eyes dilated to the point they’re almost entirely black with no green and completely feral looking.
Tears leak out of my eyes. I know I’m a wet sobbing mess. Can no one see us? Hear us? Are we invisible or do people not care?
I’ve never been so scared in my entire life or felt so helpless.
His lips are back on mine and he shoves his tongue forcefully in and out of my mouth like some weird perverse form of sex. I bite down sharply on his tongue and he howls in pain.
He pulls away but before I can move he slaps me hard across the face. Blinking, white lights flood my vision and I’m immediately disoriented.
“Don’t do that again,” he growls, pushing me against the wall again and hiking my skirt up even higher. I try to close my legs but he forces them open with bruising pressure. He fingers my panties and begins to slide them down my waist.
“Help!” I scream.
“Bitch,” he snarls and shoves me into the brick wall so my skull clacks roughly against it.
Fight back! I scream at myself.
“Get off of me!” I cry, shoving futilely at him. I’m too short and not strong enough. No match to his height and strength. My only hope is of someone hearing us and so far that seems hopeless.
“Sloane, baby—” Mac says, stroking the side of my face.
“Don’t touch me!” I scream and spit on him. My body bucks beneath him trying to shove him off, but he barely budges.
“Ugh,” he groans, and pushes me more firmly against the wall.
His hands pin my wrists but that doesn’t stop me from wiggling around like a fish. I refuse to allow this to happen without giving it my all.
“Let go of me,” I scream.
“You’re a tease,” he growls into my ear. “Nothing but a whore, always flaunting your body in those tight fitting clothes. You should be happy I’m interested in you, you fat cunt.”
My tears keep falling even as the old ones dry icily on my cheeks.
“You’re an asshole.” I bare my teeth at him. If he gets close enough I won’t hesitate to bite him.
He slides my panties farther down and positions himself.
“Please,” I beg brokenly. “Please, don’t do this.”
“Sloane,” he rasps, wiggling his hips, preparing himself.
I gag and feel bile rise in my throat. I wish I’d actually throw up, it might get him away from me.
Someone lights a cigarette near the entrance of the bar and I call out a plea one last time.
“Help me, please help me,” I scream as loud as I can.
The person turns and his face catches in the light of the street.
Siva.
“Siva, oh my God—”
Mac slaps me again and my vision blurs before his hand presses against my mouth, cutting off any more sound I might make.
“Sloane?” He peers into the shadows. “Sloane!” he yells, seeing what’s going on.
Something hard and heavy slams into Mac, knocking him over.
“You goddamn son of a bitch,” Siva growls and punches Mac in the face. I hear a sickening crunch as I drop to the ground, my panties around my ankles.
Tears streak down my face and my chest heaves as I struggle to breathe.
I think I might be having a panic attack.
Another punch is followed by a whimper.
“Didn’t I teach you a fucking lesson last night?” growls Siva. He punches again. “You don’t learn, do you, bastard?”
I release a loud sob and this seems to snap Siva’s attention to me.
Mac moans on the ground before going quiet.
“Sloane?” asks Siva quietly.
Sobs are the only noises I’m able to produce. When he tries to touch me I flinch and a look of pain clouds his face.
“Are you okay?” he asks. After a pause, he adds, “Dumb question.”
He pulls a phone out of his pocket. “Jacob,” he says, into the phone. “I need you to meet me at J and J’s Bar. Yeah, the one across from Avid News. I’ll explain when you get here.”
The other man must ask something because Siva huffs into the phone.
“Yes, I took the damn Porsche. Take the fucking NSX and get your ass down here now. Understand?” he asks and hangs up.
“Sloane?” he says my name gently into the dark and tries to reach for me.
“Don’t touch me!” I cry out, scuttling away from him.
“I won’t hurt you,” Siva sighs quietly into the wind.
Tears soak my face, my dress, probably the ground by now. Even though my clothes are mostly still on I’ve never felt so entirely naked in all my life.
“Siva, I …,” I start and then collapse onto him in exhaustion and defeat. He’s right, I know he won’t hurt me, at least not physically. But this man has the power to take my heart and twist it in his hands until it’s unrecognizable if I give him the power. His arms come around me and holds me close. “He … he was … he was going to …”
“I know,” whispers Siva. “I know. But I’m here now. You’re safe. I won’t let him hurt you.” He strokes my back, trying to calm me, but the gesture is lost on me. I’m too gone to fear.
The two of us lie there, on the ground, while Siva continues to rub my back and my tears soak the soft cotton of his shirt.
The hum of a car pulling up startles me.
“Hush, it’s okay,” soothes Siva. “It’s just Jacob.”
“Siva?” asks Jacob, peering into the alley. “What the hell is going on? You have me over to play pool and then you leave like your arse is on fire. What is it now?”
“I need you to stay with this piece of shit and call the police,” growls Siva over my quiet sobs.
“What did he do?�
� asks Jacob. “I’ll need to tell the police.” He still looks skeptical. Maybe he thinks Siva is off the deep end like he was last night.
Siva looks at me and back at Jacob clearing his throat.
“Mr. MacAuley Grant attempted to rape Ms. Campbell. I got here in time, right?” he asks me, suddenly looking panicked. I see Jacob pale at Siva’s words.
I nod my head and he breathes a sigh of relief as I burrow further into him. Mac makes a groan on the ground but doesn’t stir.
He shakes his head. “I shudder to think if I had gotten here a moment later.”
Jacob glances at my pitiful form and compassion floods his eyes.
Siva gently kisses the top of my head. “I’m going to take her home.” He stands and pulls me up in his arms in the process. He doesn’t dip under my weight, which I know is heavier than usual since my body has collapsed. I’m basically dead weight at this point. With the fight or flight having fled my body I’m practically useless. I feel like I could sleep for five hundred years and I’m still not sure it would be enough.
“I’ll stay with” —Jacob glances angrily at Mac’s prone form— “this,” he spits in disgust.
“Thank you.”
Siva carries me to the Porsche and sits me inside. My panties are still wrapped around my ankles. I want to burn them. I don’t want them to touch me. Not after he touched them.
Siva, noticing my struggles, points and asks in a gentle tone, “May I?”
I nod gratefully and he slips them off. He then buckles my seatbelt before leaning his forehead against mine. “I’ve never been more scared in my entire life. What are you doing to me?”
I can’t answer him. I have no more words left in me. I’m entirely spent.
Tears pour fresh and vigorous down my cheeks. He closes the car door and climbs in the driver’s side.
As he drives down the dark London streets my sobs and sniffles are the only noises filling the car.
My mind can’t wrap around what happened; it doesn’t want to. To acknowledge it makes it all the more real. Panic and fear still sit heavy in my chest. I have never been afraid like I was in that moment. I felt so helpless. So alone. I feel shaken to my core. I want to shut out what happened but instead it keeps replaying over and over again. His hands, his breath, his strength. It won’t go away. It’s like I can still feel his hands on me. I feel dirty and raw. Ravaged, even. I want to scrub my body to the bone.
Temptation Page 8
