Page 18 of On the Rocks
“Get someone in here to help her.”
This time he’s gentler, applying soft pressure above the white terrycloth. Slowly blooming scarlet from my gouged skin.
I’m naked in front of my husband’s bodyguard. Drake will be so upset. His wife immodest with one of his men. I try covering myself. Fumbling with the sheet. Swaying from the overwhelming dizziness I can’t seem to snap out of. I don’t even realize I’m plunging forward until Butcher catches me. His hand brushing against my breast. An accident of course. It has to be.
“Damn it! I said get me some fucking help in here!”
His scream blows over my head as I rest against his chest. The racing of his heart pounding under my ear. I’ve never been held like this before by anyone but Drake. Never been so intimate with any other man. I try to wiggle free from his tight grip, but he draws me closer. Keeping me from tumbling further down.
Yes, that must be why he won’t let me go. Not to get in trouble with his boss.
Soft hands run across my skin. Pulling on my dress. Where are my panties? No one seems to know. Women scurrying frantically from Butcher’s commands.
“She must be dehydrated.”
“Did she eat anything?”
“Maybe she’s pregnant?”
My heart clogs in my throat. Yes, that is totally possible. We’ve not been careful. A baby would explain everything. I think. I just can’t seem to make sense of anything with my head hammering so hard and my arm blazing in misery. With all the voices swirling around me. Butcher’s musky cologne stinging my throat. His thick shirt scratching my cheek.
“Can you walk Mrs. Deveraux?”
I don’t know. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry to cause so much trouble.”
His arm stays locked around my waist while I slide off the cushion. My knees buckle as soon as my bare feet touch the freezing ceramic. I’m back in his grip, curled against his chest. My head bouncing against his shoulder as he strides out of my private room and down the hall.
“Please wait. I have to tell my mother-in-law. She’ll be wor?”
A sweaty palm pushes my cheek against the hard buttons lining his jacket. “Shhh. Everything’s fine. Let’s just get you back upstairs.”
I take deep breaths. Trying to calm my racing pulse and churning stomach. I push my eyes open when the elevator dings. Luckily, the car is empty. Butcher steps inside, flanked by my two other guards. They exchange worried looks.
Humiliating me even more that they think I’m some kind of weak, feeble woman. The boss’s fragile wife who can’t even handle a simple massage. My eyes sink shut again despite my best efforts.
I jerk from a door slam, but Butcher's hold doesn't loosen. No idea how we made it into the suite. Scaring me even more that I'm losing track of time. Too helpless to take care of myself.
Butcher settles me against the sofa cushion. I grip the arm rest, unable to hold up my wobbling head.
He squats in front of me, a bottle of sparkling water in his tattooed hand. Droplets slide down the dark blue plastic from him jerking the lid off so brusquely.
“Maybe they're right. Maybe you’re dehydrated.”
Sympathy covers his face. Kind, I think. But maybe not. He was helpful yet so rough. Squeezing me more than he should. Seeing more than Drake would ever allow. I don’t know how I’m going to explain all of this.
I nod. Because I don’t know what else to say. Too ashamed to do anything but accept the rim he holds to my lips and take a small sip.
This time his head bobs. A knowing smile slipping into a sly chuckle. “So fucking sexy, baby girl.”
Sexy? Baby girl?
No. I’m not his. I try to tell him that. To stand up for myself like Drake would want me to. Like I want to. But he drifts in front of me. Floating farther away. Wetness splashes my legs and cracking glass shatters the silence in the room. Sharp pain crushing my head and slicing the tops of my feet from shards piercing the skin. “What are you…?”
“Trinity?”
I’m sliding down. Too groggy to answer. Unable to fight the dark current pulling me under any more.
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