Page 65 of When Hearts Ignite

My stomach roils in an uproar, and I swallow the revulsion creeping my throat. I grab his hand to wrench it off from my chest, my body feeling soiled, disgusting from his caress. My pulse riots and fear slams through me. His hand grips my arm instead, and he smiles at me, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “No, Mr. Voss—”

“Let go of her this instant,” an unmistakable voice barks from our right, drawing the attention of many people in the vicinity.

Six simple words. Venom-laced anger.

As if his sanity is held on by the thinnest thread and he’s mere moments away from snapping. And God help whoever is around him whenever that happens.

My thoughts when I first met Steven bubble up in this inopportune moment and I let out a hiccup. My mind is going mad.

Timothy glances at Steven, who has caught up to me with the stealth of a black panther prowling the forest at night. “Kingsley, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m—”

“I don’t give a flying fuck who you are. One last chance. Take your filthy paws off her or I’ll rip them off and shove them down your throat and watch you choke to death. I swear, there’ll be murder on these floors tonight,” Steven growls as he curls one hand around Timothy’s blood red tie and pulls, his knuckles flashing white.

Timothy chokes and gasps for air, his face turning red, his hands immediately falling away to grip his tie that is quickly becoming a noose under Steven’s wrath.

Shrieks and gasps surround us as the sharks in the room are drawn to the display of bloodlust in front of them.

My heart pounds a mile a minute, threatening to break apart at its seams and my breathing comes out in rapid bursts as my attention is focused on the tall, threatening man in front of me, his molten eyes flashing with violence, his lips parted in a snarl, baring his blinding white teeth. A vein pulses in his forehead as he pulls harder on the bastard’s tie and Timothy’s choking sounds fill the air.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch her. Don’t you fucking dare even look in her direction, you disgusting pig. If you try anything again, I’ll make sure that’s the last thing you ever do.”

Steven’s face is twisted, flushed, his deep voice sharp and rough like a hacksaw. Everyone shrinks away, obviously fearful of the cold Kingsley losing it in the ballroom.

But my heart clenches, the tears which abated making a resurgence. I let out a ragged exhale, which somehow draws his attention away from Timothy. His head spins toward me, his eyes skating over my face and my body as if making sure I’m okay.

I nod, my cheeks wet, and I realize the tears I’ve been holding in for so long have finally broken past the dam inside me.

I’m not alone anymore.

It’s as if my body knows everything will be okay because he’s here.

And I can finally cry.

A flash of pain appears in Steven’s eyes, and he locks his jaw before releasing a growl. Whipping his face toward Timothy, who is turning purple, he leans in, and murmurs, “How does it feel, being completely helpless? You fucking piece of shit—”

“Steven. Hey, Steven, let him go.” Jack Szeto appears out of nowhere, bringing at least a dozen staff members who are busy dispersing the crowd surrounding us, and waiters float by with trays of alcohol, as if plying the bystanders with spirits will somehow make them forget the insanity happening now.

Jack whispers in Steven’s ear as his hand slowly releases Steven’s clenched fingers. Steven’s broad frame shudders before his head dips in a curt nod. Blowing out a deep exhale, he releases Timothy, who bowls over and gasps for breath.

“K-Kingsley,” he chokes out, “You’ll be sorry. We’ll s-sue you—”

“Mr. Voss, please kindly shut your trap and recuperate in the backroom,” Jack commands, his voice strong and clear, leaving no room for arguments. “We don’t condone sexual assault or harassment at The Orchid toward any of our patrons or our employees. Your membership is revoked immediately.”

Timothy staggers to his feet, his face still flushed red with sweat dripping down his forehead. He points to Jack. “Y-You can’t do that. You aren’t an Anderson.”

“He can, and just in case there’s any confusion, I’ll repeat what he said. Your membership is revoked, effective immediately, and I don’t recommend bringing in the lawyers, or else you’ll have to deal with my family and I’m sure we can out-lawyer you.” Ryland Anderson steps up and signals a few security members to drag a screeching Timothy away.

“Nobody gets away with treating me like this, Kingsley. Fuck you, your family, and your whore!” Timothy roars as he disappears from the room.

Steven growls and darts toward the man, looking like he’s ready to finish his threats.

Jack grips his arm and holds him back. He murmurs something to Steven, who slowly relaxes and is now straightening his suit jacket as best as he can, his face completely devoid of emotion, appearing very much the King of Wall Street I met nine months ago in the conference room.

Ryland’s gaze skates over to me and I mouth, thank you. His lips tilt up in acknowledgment before he and Jack stride away, disappearing into the crowds, no doubt to perform some damage control, leaving Steven and me behind in the corner of the room.

“Don’t you dare say I’m mistaken, Grace,” Steven grits out, his gaze pinning me in place. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

The pounding beats in my chest are now a war chant and all the nerve endings on my skin come alive. My chest lifts and falls rapidly as my breathing grows erratic, and I watch him prowl toward me, each step slow and measured.

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