Page 11 of Indigo

His chest is rising and falling rapidly, and I can see his hands shaking, so I try to keep my voice calm. “Michael, you need to calm down. You’ve had too much to drink.”

As he reaches the front of my car and stops only a metre away from me, an evil grin spreads across his face and the shiver it sends down my spine forces me to take a step backwards.

“You think you can embarrass me like that, in front of all of those people, and I’ll just sit there and take it, Indigo?”

“I’m sorry,” I say, trying to placate him. “I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the better of me.”

He laughs maniacally, and I notice that his pupils are blown as he takes a step closer to me, forcing me back further.

As my ass collides with my driver's side door, I look around, and realise how veryaloneI am right now.

“Don’t,” I whisper, meeting his eyes as he leans down, towering over me.

He rests one hand against the roof, just above my head, and the other grips my arm. He squeezes hard, and I wince. “You are going to march your ass back into that restaurant, sit down and politely eat until I’m ready to leave and then we will go home and discuss this like adults, in private. Do you understand me?”

Hell no.

I shake my head and force my voice to come out stronger than I feel. “No.”

He tightens his grip and I know that it’ll leave a mark, going by the pain it causes. “No?” he asks, smirking down at me.

I tug at my arm, but his hold doesn’t budge and the pain only increases.

“You’re hurting me,” I whisper, narrowing my eyes and finding my backbone.

“You’re hurting yourself. Don’t be a child. Behave and then we can go back inside.”

This is how Michael works. He’ll start an argument or say something horrible and then when I react, he spins it so that my reaction is what’s causing the problem. Crazy bastard.

“Stop.”

I clench my fist around the keys in my hand, and he leans in closer, the whiskey on his breath drowning my senses.

I shake my head again and jump as a deep, harsh voice booms from behind us. “Let. Her. Go.”

Michael’s grip flexes before he sighs, loosens his hold on me slightly, and turns his head toward the unfamiliar voice.

“Mind your business,” he replies in the stranger's direction, dismissing the warning and returning his focus to me. “Don’t make a scene,” he whispers through clenched teeth.

“Won’t ask you again, mate. Let go of her arm and step the fuck back,” the voice calls again, stepping out from the shadows and into my line of sight.

The dark silhouette of the man is ridiculously tall, with shoulders that must be at least twice the width of Michaels, which is really saying something. As he moves closer, and the light in the parking lot shining directly above us hits his face, my breath catches, rendering me speechless.

Paxton.

Within seconds, he’s behind Michael, towering over him. His dark hazel eyes focus on the back of his head, only once darting to meet mine. He removes his hands from the pockets of his black slacks and begins rolling up the sleeves of his maroon dress shirt, slowly, menacingly. The muscles in his forearms twitch as he jerks the fabric up and over them, and I catch a glimpse of the tattoos I’ve spent the past four years dreaming about.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Within seconds of the words leaving his perfectly shaped lips, he spins Michael around to face him, using only one hand on his shoulder. I have to stifle a laugh as Michael’s eyes grow wide before he’s forcefully ripped away from me.

They stand face to face, Pax towering over Michael, his lips turned up in a mocking smirk. “You think you’re tough, cornering tiny women in dark parking lots, do you? You feel like a man now?”

Michael puffs his chest out, standing taller, the whiskey obviously giving him some much-needed courage. “She’s my girlfriend, and our business is none of yours,” he says, attempting to push Pax back, and failing. He doesn’t move, not even an inch, and I swear I see his lips twitch as if he wants to smile at the attempt. “Look, we’re in the middle of something, okay? She’s being dramatic, and I was talking her down.” Michael sighs and tries to backpedal as I watch the show. “She’s obviously had too much to drink. I was just making sure she was okay to drive.”

I snort, loudly and completely unintentionally, at the bullshit that just came out of his mouth. Thankfully, neither of them react to the noise.

“I’ll count to three. If you’re gone by then, I’ll let it go,” Pax says, taking a small step back, shrugging as if he doesn’t care either way, and tucking his hands back in his pockets.

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