Page 109 of Unorthodox
Zeke leans close to me, places his hand on my thigh, just below the hem of my dress. At his touch, I suck in a breath, but before I can say a word or shift on the bar stool, he whispers quickly, “I know your father.”
My blood runs cold, and I hold my breath, waiting for his next words, my fingers still holding my glass, the ice now rattling in the cup as my hand trembles.
“Go to the restroom. Out the main doors, first door on the right. I’ll be there soon.” He pulls back, moves his hand.
I stare at him, the little hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. I know I need to go, I need to get off of this bar stool, and I need to take this chance.
But I don’t trust Zeke.
And I don’t… I don’t know if I want to gohome.If it had been Danik, I tell myself, it would be an easier choice. But what kind of welcome will my father give me? Will he blame me for this? Will he only pick up where Max left off, and sell me to the highest bidder? Will he…touch meagain?
My stomach twists into knots, and the room seems to spin around me as I look around, searching for Max.
Searching for Max.
I think of him in the car, his finger in my mouth. Of his threats, what he did to Ben. Dante.To me.
“We don’t have much time,” Zeke says quietly, the bartender preoccupied with another man at the opposite end of the counter.
I take a deep breath, trying to find the men whose eyes were on me when I walked in here, but for now, I see nothing.
“Okay,” I tell Zeke quietly. “Where is my—”
“I’ll tell you everything there,” he says quickly, his dark gaze holding mine. “I’ll get you home, Addison.”
There’s something tender in his words, but even still, I don’t trust him. And Max told me to stay here. He might have leftme,but this room is full of people. A bathroom isn’t.
I fix Zeke with what I hope is an intimidating stare as I say, “I’m not going to a bathroom alone with you.”
He doesn’t look away for a moment, until finally his gaze flicks to the doors to the entertainment room, then back to me. He nods, as if to himself, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Smart.” He takes a sip from his drink, sets it back down on the counter. “Take theseconddoor on the right.” He shrugs. “Stand outside of it if you’d like, I’ll meet you in the hall.” He looks to the doors again. “There are guards here. They’d hear you scream.”
The little hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, but I don’t move. Not for several long seconds.
Then, before I can talk myself out of it, I hop down from the bar stool, finish my drink in one hasty gulp, set the glass down, and head toward the double doors that lead out of this room.
Someone will come for me.I repeat the mantra in my head as the armed guards eye me up and down, but no one stops me as I thread through the throng of people congregated around the doors, all of them in various states of dress and drunkenness.
I pull open the heavy oak door, step out into the hall, and as the door closes behind me, the noise from the party dies down and I can think.
One.
Two.
Three.
I don’t move for three seconds, my eyes on the cream-colored walls of the hall, the gilded baseboards, the pale stone floor.
Three seconds, and I debate going back into that room and waiting for Max.
I think about finding my way to the door we walked in this house from and walking out.
Someone will come for me.
It’s so loud in my spinning head, past the drunkenness of my other, reckless thoughts of escape.
I make up my mind.
Following Zeke’s directions, I find the bathroom, peeking inside to confirm it’s what he said it was.
