Page 33 of Her Defiant Heart (Damaged Hearts 1)

Greg hears me. He’s up and in my personal space within seconds, his fingers going underneath my chin so he can tip my face up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “What did you just say?”

Anger blazes in his eyes, but I don’t care. I’m angry too. My voice is clear and firm when I say, “I said, you’re not my boss.”

His fingers tighten on my chin almost painfully. “I just paid a hell of a lot of money to have you for the night.” The smile he gives me isn’t friendly. No, more like menacing. “That means I can do pretty much whatever I want to you.”

We stare at each other for a tension-filled moment, and he squeezes my chin again, pinching my skin before he releases me. He wraps his arm around my waist, his hand palming my butt before giving it a slap, and I jolt away from him, startled.

My anger dissipates, replaced by a heavy dose of fear. I don’t like how Greg is talking to me. Or looking at me. I should’ve never agreed to this.

It’s now or never.

Slowly, I turn and make my way toward the door. The music immediately shuts off and then Greg is chasing after me; I can hear his hurried footsteps. I’m at the door, my fingers curling around the handle, but he stops it from opening with a firm hand pressed against the wood.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he whispers by my ear, his face so close to mine I can feel his lips move against my skin.

The disgusted shiver that runs through me can’t be disguised. “I’m leaving.”

When I try to turn the handle again, he just presses against the door harder. Trapping me. “You’re not going anywhere.”

I keep my gaze fixed straight ahead. I don’t want to look at him. I’m too scared at what I might see. “I don’t want to do this.”

“I don’t really give a shit.” His free arm circles around my waist and he spreads his hand across my bare stomach, fingers reaching, just brushing the underside of my breasts. “I already paid for you, remember.”

“And you’ll get your money back, I promise.” Air is shuddering in and out of my lungs and my head is spinning. I swear if he doesn’t let go of me soon, I’m going to black out.

“I don’t want my money back.” He squeezes his arm around my middle and then picks me up, hauling me away from the door. I kick my legs out and back, trying to somehow nail him in the knees, but I miscalculate my aim.

I nail him with the pointy heel of my shoe right in the balls instead.

“Fuck!” Greg’s arms fall away from me, and I practically drop to the ground. Scrambling to my feet, I glance over my shoulder to see Greg hunched over on his knees, his hands covering his crotch. He lifts his head, his murderous gaze meeting mine. “You fucking bitch!”

I grasp for the door handle and turn it, crying out in relief when the door swings open so easily. Without looking back, I run out of the room, and make my way toward Don’s office.

Don gives me a thousand dollars for “my trouble” as he called it. I wish he would’ve given me more. I tried to make him feel guilty over what happened with Greg, because let me tell you, I let him know exactly what happened—in full, explicit detail—when I ran into his office. He flinches with every detail I reveal, shaking his head as the words pour out of me.

I’ve never seen Don move so fast when he leaps out of his chair and heads for the room where Greg still was. I follow after him, secure in knowing Don is there to defend me, but when we get to the room, Greg isn’t anywhere to be found.

He simply vanished. And without asking for his money back either.

“Guess you lucked out, doll,” Don murmurs when we’re back in his office.

“Lucked out?” I ask incredulously. “Are you serious?” I can’t believe he just said that.

“Trust me, it could’ve be worse.”

“That creep tried to rape me,” I remind him.

“Yeah, and I’m giving you a thousand dollars, right?” Don sends me a look, one that says I shouldn’t argue with him.

Fine. I won’t argue. Not when so much money is on the line.

I say nothing as Don quietly opens up his desk drawer, draws out a fat stack of hundreds, and starts counting them out, one by one, until he hit one thousand.

“Sorry about that,” he says as he keeps his gaze fixed on his desk. Like he can’t look at me. “Don’t worry about that asshole. I’ll take care of him if he comes back. You can take the next few days off if you want.”

Without a word I grab the money, shove it into my purse, and walk out, never once looking back. There’s no way I want to hang out at this rat hole for fear I’d see Greg again—if that’s even his real name.

Over the next few days while I wallow in my misery, Savannah texts me a few times, asking why I’m not around and if I’m okay, but I ignore her. Rhett texts me as well, wanting to know if I want to get together sometime this week, but I ignore him too. Seeing Rhett is the last thing I want after what I went through with Greg. Not that Rhett’s to blame or anything, but I can guarantee he’s going to want to have sex with me, and there is no way that’s happening. Not right now.

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