Page 24 of Broken Pieces
It’s Damian’s.
This place is loud, and I'm officially fucking annoyed. Right after I punch the guy, the bouncers come our way, trying to understand the situation. With me being pretty well-known and all, they don’t dare look my way once they realize it's me who punched the fucking creep, so they swiftly pick up the guy and kick him out of the club.
I sigh, turning around to see Aria standing there, her face drained of color, eyes bulging in surprise.
“Outside,now,” I growl, pointing to the door. She doesn't say anything, doesn't even acknowledge me, and simply walks outside.
I’ve never lost my shit like that. I have a reputation to maintain, and being a knight in shining armor isdefinitelynotone of them. This is probably going to bite me in the fucking ass, and I can’t even pretend to care.
I take off my jacket and place it on her shoulders. I’m way taller than her, so my jacket just hugs her whole body, almost like she’s using it as a dress. A primal unfamiliar sensation comes over me as I decide to cover her. It’s not that chilly tonight, but I would gouge anyone's eyes out who dares look at her for one more moment. She has this mini dress that marks her curves, leaving nothing to the imagination and looking dangerously sexy.
Focus. Now’s not the time to be looking at her.
“Are you okay?” I ask, gently grabbing her face.
She looks up at me and nods, her eyes brimming with tears threatening to spill over at any moment. With a sniff, she whispers, “Thank you.” Her voice trembles slightly, and her body shakes from the adrenaline.
I arrived at the club about two hours ago with my cousin, Enzo, and his best friend Matteo. Once we arrived, Enzo went to pick his flavor of the night as usual, and Matteo stayed next to me, waiting for the girls to come in. He doesn’t have to tell me what I know. The only reason he came with us is because I told them Isabella was coming as well. Their history is more than a complicated entanglement, so I didn’t even dare to question why he stayed next to me, just as vigilant, eagerly waiting for the girls to arrive.
I stayed in the VIP area, keeping an eye on the door and the floor for any signs of Aria. An hour later, she walks in with Isabella and Sophia. It takes me a minute to recognize her, because tonight, she has curly hair. I felt like someone punched me right in the gut, taking all my air away, something that always happens when she enters a room. Really, I don’t know how she manages to take my breath away every single time. I’ve seen her countless of times, with messy hair, straight, braids—but her curls take the fucking cake. She looks so fucking beautiful. I wonder why she never wears her hair like that. It suits her, alongside her fiery personality and otherworldly looks.
I wanted to go to her right away and stake my claim like a senseless caveman, but I held back. The last thing I wanted was for her to think I was stalking her. I don’t even understand—not fully, anyways—why I decided to show up. It was just a protective instinct calling me like a siren taking a hold of me and not letting go until I listened to it and dropped everything to be here. My gaze was always on her, scrutinizing every move with intent. Not that long after they arrived, a preppy stuck-up guy was leading them upstairs, so I positioned myself in the corner of the VIP bar, hiding from her like a coward. I didn’t want to leave anything up to chance and make her believe that I was there for her. I managed to convince myself that I was there because I felt like going out, the lies slipping out of me easily as Enzo grilled me with questions during our drivehere. The girls walked to a table where some guys were sitting, my blood instantly boiling, the place feeling so much more crowded and small at the sight of her smiling at another guy.
The same fucking smile I love to see every minute of every damn day.
I gulped my bourbon to calm down the aggressive sensation and not go to her. God knows I held back, gripping the glass of bourbon so hard I ended up breaking it.
They were clearly flirting, more him than her, but nonetheless—fucking flirting. As they were walking downstairs to the dance floor, I witnessed how he turned around and grabbed one of her curls and swirled it around his finger. My first instinct was to grab a fucking knife and cut his finger off for him daring to touch her hair like that.
My fucking hair.
I shake my head as the thought creeps in, because this is insane. She’s not mine to claim, never will be.
As they started dancing, the place suddenly felt smaller, and smaller. Sweat trickled down my back, my knuckles white from grabbing the table as hard as humanly possible. My body was raging—screaming—at me to go to her and take her away. I kept my eyes on her the entire time, following her every move, every breath, every sway of her hips. Watching with intent, I quickly noticed when she started to feel uncomfortable. Holding back any longer wasn’t an option, hatingthe way he was touching her without her consent, and the way he started groping her.
I never believed when people say they see red when extremely angry. I’m a cautious, calm man. It’s the way I do business, because losing your cool is not an option—people would eat you alive if you showed any sign of emotion; weakness; fragility. I finally understand the saying, though. My legs took on a life of their own, quickly storming to them. My arms too, pushing people out of the way, yelling at them to move the fuck away from me. My heart pounding—hard—and chest tightening with anger like never before. I gave the guy the opportunity to walk away from a situation, because I’m a gentleman before anything. That’s how my mother raised me, but the way he talked about her snapped something inside of me and my instinct was to punch him. I would’ve killed him if they would have let me get away with it.
Zero fucking regret. I’d do it a million times over.
Extending my hand for her to grab. “Come on, I'll take you home.”
She shakes her head, taking a step back. “Isa and Sophia are still inside with that guy's friends. I need to go get them.”
“It's already taken care of. Now, let's go. This is not up for discussion,” I say sternly.
She hesitates, her eyes traveling from my hand to my eyes.
“Do you trust me?” I ask softly. Desperately hoping she does. It would kill me otherwise.
She bites her lip with a nod, opting to not say anything.
“Your friends are safe, I promise you.”
I texted Matteo as we were walking out of the club, ordering him to look after the girls. He quickly agreed, and I’m sure it had everything to do with Isabella and nothing to do with him wanting to be chivalrous.
She nods and takes my hand without putting up a fight, which fucking breaks something inside of me because her fiery personality is nowhere to be found. She’s shaken up, and I wish I could do something more to make her feel better. An Aria without her witty comebacks and banter is not one I could live with. Guiding her to the valet, they bring my car out and I quickly open the passenger door and wait for her to get in.
Without a word, I get in the car and start driving. I’m still trying to shake off the anger coming out of my pores, because this is the last thing she needs right now. I don’t blame her, at all. She was just trying to have some fun, and it fucking sucks some creep ruined it. I should have stopped her from going to the dance floor with him, if I had let my instincts take over, she would have been safe—probably mad too—but safe nonetheless.
