Page 62 of A Dash of You

I glance over at Mr. Parker and his wife. Stuck up broad with a terrible tan. “Of course, dear.”

“That’s my girl.” Jason gives a small tap to my ass as he leans over and places his wet lips on my cheek. “Mingle. Make friends.” With that, my husband takes his leave and saunters over to the couple.

Mingle. I wouldn’t be caught dead being friends with these men’s wives. They’re so out of touch with reality, it’s alarming. I am considered one of them, even though inside I’m screaming.

I lean slightly on the bar, stirring my martini. I hate martinis. They are bitter and dry. But Jason always orders me one like he assumes I enjoy the way they taste.

A body slides up next to mine, and I recognize the potent scent of the cologne I had the not so pleasure of encountering moments ago. “That dress is made for you.” Dennis stands close—too close and I turn my body to face him with another fake smile.

“That’s kind of you to say.” I let the blandness of my drink slide down my throat before playing with the tiny straw.

“What can I say? I’m an honest man.”

My stomach lurches as I take another sip.

“And I don’t always play nice,” he whispers, leaning in, and I shudder when he rakes his knuckles down my bare arm.

My cocktail dress that Jason’s stylist picked out feels tighter. Suffocating. As if it isn’t already stuck on me like a second skin to begin with.

I peer over at my husband, who is still in conversation with the Parkers. But he nods with a smile, encouraging me—encouraging this man to come on to his wife. That’s when I figure it out… Dennis is going to be the man Jason hustles me out to. It’s only a matter of time. Things are getting worse. Privately dancing for these men seems like a piece of cake compared to what has progressed over the last few months. Now my husband is getting more ballsy and bolder. And moremoney hungry. Why does a billionaire possibly need more money?

I’m not sure where Dennis thinks this is going, but I’ll be damned if I let him stick his rich, nasty, cheating on his wife cock inside me.

I flash him with a flirty smile, keeping his demons at bay while trying to swallow down the nausea. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the ladies' room.” I lay a friendly hand to his shoulder, setting down my drink and his hand squeezes my ass as I brush past.

In passing I smile and say hello to the ones I recognize.

Once secure in the bathroom, I can finally breathe. When I notice there’s no one else in here but me, I lean on the sink, letting the weight fall to my shoulders. “I can’t do this anymore,” I whisper only to myself.

I inhale and exhale with long deep breaths, but the sweat still trickles down my back.

It’s now or never.

I peek outside the restroom door, making sure my path is clear, then leave, heading for the back escape. My heels clink on the hardwood floor as my only focus—my only goal is to make it to the stairs without being seen.

My heart beats fast but as soon as I open the door to descend the stairs, a rush of adrenaline moves through me, and I’ve never been more ready. More determined.

With each passing floor, I gain more confidence and when my heel hits the ground off the last step; I run. As fast as I can with four-inch heels on, I race like hell.

I unclasp my purse and toss my phone into the nearby trash then grab a taxi.

“Where to miss?”

The backseat of the taxi is stifling, but I shut it out, breathe, and come back to the present. I tell him the location where the car is hidden, and he takes off leaving my life behind.

I’m so close. There is no way I will let this plan fail me now.

The driver pulls up to the curb and I pay him, hightailing it to the vacant vacation house. With lingering eyes, I hurry until I locate the spare opener, the garage door rising. I reach under the front tire, grab the key and climb into the driver’s side.

My smile is involuntary, lighting up my face. I start the car but before I can reverse, my door swings open.

No! No!

Colors of all shades cloud my vision.

Jason grabs me by my hair and pulls me out of my getaway car. My escape. His voice unrecognizable, like a monster out of a child’s nightmare. “You think you can leave me?! I am your husband! And you are my wife!” His angry voice carries through the air, and I scream. Kick. Hit. Bite.

But no, this can’t be how it ends because I escaped. I got away. He drags me across the cement floor.

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