Page 13 of Contention

The corner of his mouth quirks at her tone, his eyes glittering with far too much ego for Kara to digest. “Looking at you like what?”

“Like you know me.”

“Do I?” Airy, drawling. He’s got this…this husky sort of voice, with a rasp in the undertone. Despite that, it reeks of culture and money. And it’s-

Mocking.

Irritation growing, Kara takes a deep sip from her martini, gesturing for the bartender to refill it. She shouldn’t ask for a refill, but she does.Extra-dirty,she tells the gentleman behind the bar before whirling to face her opposing counsel. “I don’t know, Mr. Havenwood-Calais.Do you?”

There.Right there.Something in his eyes goes dark, wicked. In that moment, Kara knows he’s likely the most untrustworthy scumbucket she’s ever had the displeasure to meet and her heart pounds in her chest like the thunder of horse hooves, her stomach twisting.

His expression is blank, but those eyes speak in spiteful volumes.

“Sorry, junior associate. I do not.” Calais tilts his head at this with a certain sarcasm. “I don’t think we traverse the same social circles, as it were.”

That sounds like a roundabout insult. In Kara’s ears, she hears the past echoes from childhood, from anytime a school friend mentioned that they weren’t allowed at her house, that their parents said ‘no’. The whole,my mom saw your mom at the ER last week, cuz my mom works there…she thinks it’s better if you just come to our house instead. Is that okay, Kara?

Just thinking about it causes a vein to throb in her temple. Scowling at this rich boy turned man, she says, “Are you…insulting me again, you goddamn bell end?”

Those stormy eyes flash with cruel amusement. Like he finds her to besuch a peasant, but a precious one that entertains him, like a court jester of sorts. Absurd. He leans forward with a wicked gleam in his eyes and Kara inhales without thinking, because he smells so-

sophisticated, which is wrong because he’s a swine and-

His words brush her ear as he speaks, “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetpea.”

It’s like ice, crashing down from a mountain, stabbing Kara straight through the chest. For a moment, she can’t breathe, can’t think, can only stare at him in a strange sort of horror. The word, the tone of voice, it echoes in her head and she can barely breathe.

The words he says are almost meaningless, like she’s trying to make sense of them and phantom pain blossoms on her jaw. Ridiculously, her eyes drift to the hand holding his wine glass, notes the strength in it and the way his watch glitters ominously on his broad wrist.

A soft pat on her head, fond. Pleased. ‘Good girl, sweetpea.’

Kara feels her hands shaking and she clenches them in her lap under the bar. Her words are cracked, barely above a whisper. “What did you say?”

For a minute, he pauses before leaning back against the bar a safe distance from her person, looking away. With his profile exposed to her, she watches as he scoffs slightly, as if cursing himself mentally, perhaps even laughing at her expense. There’s a flash of his teeth, perfect white, aggressive. Oh, he’s thinking something.

Probably thinking of how stupid Kara is.

Because she’s an absolute idiot.

Kara feels ill, feels the world burning, because he smells of sweet tobacco, coffee, and spiced rum.

Chapter 6

“Oh, my God,” she utters sickly, turning her head away to stare at her own face in the mirror behind the bar. Kara almost doesn’t recognize how pale she’s become, like all the blood has rushed out of her face in a wash.

This can’t be reality.

Kara feels bile rush up her esophagus, burning. She holds it in, gagging, coughing. Takes a quick sip of alcohol to wash it down. It tastes like battery acid. Or death. There’s that, too.

She inhales hard, feels faint, ridiculously, like she’s had ten martinis instead of one and a half. Like she’s been knocked in the head with a two-by-four.Inhale. Exhale. It feels like suffocating, she can’t get enough air and this room feels far too small now that’s she confronted with an awful truth.

“Don’t make a scene,” he drawls from beside her, sounding oh so far away now. “Let’s be civilized.”

Excuse me?Like a creepy animatronic, Kara cranes her head to the left slowly, eyes wide and probably a tad bit murderous. Maybe even crazed. “Civilized?Oh,yes, by all means,” she snarls loudly, causing other patrons of the bar to turn in their direction.

Vaguely, she imagines eviscerating him.

He’s saying something in that smooth voice of his, but it’s all a wash in her head. She’s too focused on how wronged she feels, how vile and ridiculous it all is.Violated. Her fingers are burning to wrap around his throat and distantly she hears glass shattering.

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