Page 7 of Ruined By Protection
I finish closing the bar on autopilot, counting the register and preparing the deposit bag. All the while, a battle rages in my head.
Say goodnight at the curb. Don't invite him up. Don't give him your number.
I change out of the heels into my sneakers in the employee bathroom. I stare into the mirror, trying to talk some sense into myself.
It's just a ride home. I tell my reflection.That's all.
Part of me wants him to persuade me, to give me an excuse to make a decision I can blame on something other than my own flaring desires.
I grab my bag and jacket and head out the employee exit to the parking lot which opens to a dimly lit side lot for staff to park.
Should I wait here or go around to the front?
I decide to stay put. The parking lot is quiet except for distant traffic and the hum of the hotel's massive air conditioning units.My breath forms small clouds in the chilly air as I shift from foot to foot, trying to keep warm.
The metallic jingle of keys draws my attention to a figure walking through the lot. I turn to greet Matteo, but the silhouette is wrong—shorter, broader, with an unsteady gait.
A businessman in a rumpled suit staggers toward me. I recognize him from earlier—not the grabby drunk Matteo dealt with, but one of the corporate group who'd been throwing back martinis all evening. He must have left something in his car.
I keep my eyes down, hoping he'll pass by without noticing me. No such luck.
"Well, hello there, sweetheart." His words slur together. "Fancy meeting you out here."
I nod politely but don't engage. "Good night, sir."
He changes direction, veering toward me. "What's the rush? Shift's over, right? You don't have to call me 'sir' anymore." He gets close enough that I catch the sour smell of alcohol seeping from his pores.
"I'm waiting for someone," I say firmly, taking a step back.
"I'm someone." He grins, showing too many teeth. "Someone who's been watching that sweet ass all night."
My stomach clenches. I've dealt with this type before—the ones who think service workers are part of what they're paying for.
"You need to back off." I make my voice hard, the way I've learned over years of customer service.
He laughs like I told a joke. "Come on, don't be like that. I'm a nice guy. I'll even pay for your time." His eyes drift down my body. "Bet you make more on your back than mixing drinks anyway."
Anger flashes hot through me. "Leave me alone."
I try to step around him but he moves faster than I expect for someone so out of control. His hand shoots out, grabbing my waist and pulling me hard against him.
"Don't be a tease," he growls, his breath hot and sour in my face. "You've been giving me eyes all night."
I push against his chest. "Let go of me. Now."
His grip tightens, fingers digging into my side. "Playing hard to get? I like that."
Fear spikes through me as I realize how alone we are in this parking lot. I writhe my body and try to knee him but he has me pressed close so my leg can’t find the manoeuvre. Oh, this is bad. My heart is pummeling at my chest wall, forcing itself up into my throat making my gasps even harder.
His fingers grind into my flesh and grope their way down to my ass, cupping part of one cheek into his fist as his moist face dips into my neck. His palms start their grabby path back up my body as his breath becomes hot and rasping against my skin.
I open my mouth to scream but vomit is sour on my tongue. What is it they say? Relax, don’t fight…
"Take your hands off her." A cold voice cuts through the night
Matteo stands a few feet away from us, his tall frame rigid with tension. I didn't hear him approach—he moved through the darkness like a shadow.
The drunk turns, hands still gripping me. "Mind your business, buddy. The lady and I are having a conversation."
