Page 6 of Gold Digger
“Get over there and bloody well do your job,” Thomas the D-word snapped at me, shoving another tray of drinks into my hands.
“I’d really rather not serve that group again,” I said through my teeth.
“Suck it up, buttercup,” he sneered. “Christ, you bloody twenty-something snowflakes. If you can’t handle the occasional wandering hand, then don’t bother coming in. Plenty of girls would put up with a lot more considering the tips you make here.”
It wasn’t worth arguing, so I squared my shoulders and limped my way over to the group in question – a table of only men, one of whom was Mr Buchanon (minus his wife), another was the disgusting Giles.
I’d seen the Buchanons together earlier in the evening, and they’d both ignored me, except when Mr B peered down my cleavage. Either Mrs Buchanon had got tired of her husband’s BS and gone home, or he’d sent her home so he could act like disgusting pond scum with impunity. His friends were all cut from the same cloth. I knew rich blokes like this. Off the leash for the rest of the night. Their next stop would be a strip club or a brothel.
“She’s back!” one of them shouted as I approached. I gave him a tight smile, willing myself to go back to being invisible. I was carrying a tray laden with drinks, and my wrist was screaming at me.
“Finished cleaning the toilets yet?” Mr Buchanon asked, and they all laughed. “Such a shame Virginia fired you. It was nice having a bit of eye candy around the house.”
“You lucky sod,” Blake, Ollie’s brother-in-law slurred; he seemed to be by far the worse for wear of any of them, practically sliding out of his chair and having difficulty keeping his head up.
“Excuse me,” I muttered, trying to put the tray down on the table, but these bastards were not going to make it easy for me. There were empty glasses on the table and nowhere to put the tray. Nobody made any move to clear a space. They barely made room for me to get the table at all. I had to squeeze in between two of them who were sitting in their leather chairs like the kings of the universe they considered themselves.
“Looks like you should have been a bit more on it with clearing the table, darling,” one of them said with a smirk, still making no move to help. I flinched as a large hand clamped around the back of my leg behind my knee. When I frowneddown at Giles and tried to jerk away, his grip tightened enough to cause bruises.
“Let me go,” I bit out. My wrist was really aching now, and the tray had started to wobble.
“Way-hay!” some of the men called as the drinks swayed precariously. “Careful, darling.” The hand slid up higher, and his grip tightened even more. That, combined with the smell of all the alcohol, made my stomach lurch, and I prayed I wouldn’t vomit.
I swallowed my pride. “Please,” I said, not above begging. “I can’t…” as his sweaty hand moved even higher, I jerked again. It was just exactly my luck the drink that fell was red wine and that it didn’t fall onto any of these jerks. No, it fell back towards me. I gasped as the contents of the huge glass soaked my white shirt. There were catcalls from the whole table now, all of whom were loving this. But just as my wrist was about to give out on me completely, the tray was whipped out of my hands and dumped on the table right on top of the empties, spilling most of the other drinks. There were shouts as the liquid ran out onto all of the men around the table.
At the same time, the hand on my leg was ripped away, and I stumbled back to see the duke towering over Giles, holding his wrist in an iron grip. Then, in a sudden movement, the duke pulled Giles out of his chair, pushed his arm behind him at an unnatural angle, and then shoved him face-first into the mess that was on the table. The duke held him there, almost casually, as Giles struggled to get free. The table fell silent. In fact, the whole bar fell silent.
“Apologise to the lady, Giles, you piece of shit.” The duke’s voice was eerily calm, not like he was about to break this poor guy’s arm or had him pinned with his face pressed against the wet table.
Chapter 5
The way the world works
Lottie
“Shit, my arm, Ollie, I—” he screamed as the duke readjusted his grip so Giles’s arm was so far up his back it looked like his shoulder might dislocate.
“No,” the duke said slowly, not seeming to need to expend much effort at all to keep Giles in place. “You can beg me in a moment.First, you will apologise to the lady.”
“You’re going to break my fucking arm!” Giles shouted.
“Then you’d better get on with it,” said the duke. “Right fucking now, Smithe.”
“I’m sorry,” he gasped out. “Jesus Christ, please. I’m sorry, okay?”
The smell of the red wine was overpowering, and I really felt like I might vomit then or faint. But I couldn’t let the duke break Giles’s arm, however much he deserved it. The whole table was frozen in horror as they watched it play out. Mr Buchanon looked like he was going to vomit as well, and Blake’s face had paled to an almost unnatural greenish colour.
“Ollie,” I said softly, moving forward to put my hand on his arm. I could feel the muscles bunched under the suit fabric. “Please, just let him go. I’m fine.”
He blinked at my use of his first name. I’d done it to get his attention, and it seemed to do the job. He frowned at me.
“You’renotfine,” he said. “Stop saying you’re fine when you’re not. It’s infuriating.”
I gave him a weak smile. Giles was still struggling under Ollie’s grip, but it was like he didn’t even notice – all his attention was on me. “Okay, maybe I’m not fine. But please… everyone’s looking.”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
I squeezed his arm. “Well, I do. And… um, I don’t feel so good.” I wobbled on my feet as a wave of lightheadedness and nausea came over me. The smell and the pain were really getting to me now.
