“I can keep my hand like this, and in a couple minutes you won’t have the energy to fight me. Would you prefer that, Sabrina? Is that the way you want to do this?” He locked his eyes right on mine, got right up in my face so he was sure I understood what he was saying. So he was sure that I understood that he was giving me the choice of whether or not he let me breathe.
I shook my head.
“So you’ll be good?”
Did I have a choice? My lungs were already aching. My eyes were already seeing spots. My brain was already panicking with the impulse to take a breath.
I nodded.
He didn’t move his hand.
I nodded harder. I cried harder. Desperate.
Finally he moved his hand down ever so slightly so that my nostrils were uncovered. I inhaled cold air in long, sputtering draws, taking as much as I could get in through my nose. My chest rose and fell with each gasping breath.
Slowly, Theo let go of my hands, giving me another warning look as he resumed stroking his cock.
I got it. He had the power. I did not. Lesson learned. Lesson fucking learned.
I still struggled. I couldn’t help it. It was like a reflex. Like that one time I’d gotten a pedicure and couldn’t help kicking the technician because I was so ticklish. I willed myself to cooperate with Theo, and still my body fought him.
“Undo your jeans,” he ordered after he’d jacked himself for a minute, his voice tight.
No. Please no, don’t make me. I didn’t move. I couldn’t.
He inched the hand over my mouth slightly toward my nose—threatening—but I was already undoing the snap. Unzipping the zipper.
Tears leaked down my cheeks as Theo shooed my hands away. He licked two of his fingers and said, “Don’t want to go in dry,” then he stuck them inside my panties, searching for the hole he wanted.
A sob bubbled deep in my chest, and I closed my eyes, wishing I could be someplace else, surrendering to a deluge of mismatched thoughts that went on and on randomly. A panicked stream of consciousness. I’m not here. I’m somewhere else. I’m on the beach. I’m in the Riviera Maya. I can’t tell my father. He’ll be so mad. I haven’t shaved. Can you get frostbite in October? That redhead had nice breasts. What was her name again? It’s just my virginity. It’s just sex. Will I tell my sister? This is so embarrassing. I should have waited inside. It’s so cold. Who was the blonde in that picture in Donovan’s room? That last trip we took with Mom to the Riviera Maya was in October. It will be five years this December. What if he hurts me? What if he really hurts me? I hope no one comes out and sees this. I can’t tell my sister. I can’t tell anyone. Nichelle. I keep forgetting her name on purpose. I miss my mom. Please, God, let someone come and stop this!
I was still aware of everything around me. Hyperaware. I knew I’d forever be able to identify the smell of Theo’s shampoo. Of his cologne. His watch ticked in the quiet, each second sounding after an eternity while his fingernails scraped along the walls of my insides.
But I must not have been as attentive as I thought I was, because I never heard the door open or the footsteps on the stairs. I didn’t see Donovan grab Theo by the back of his jacket and pull him off of me, but I did see him punch Theo squarely in the nose, heard it crack, saw the blood gush.
“What the fuck?” Theo howled, one hand holding his nose while he quickly pulled up his pants with the other. “Jesus, Kincaid!”
My knees nearly buckled in relief. I was free of Theo, free of his sweaty hand and his oppressive body. I scooted away from the corner I’d been trapped in, afraid I might somehow end up imprisoned there again, and fastened my pants as fast as I could. Shock halted my tears, and though I felt steady, I could see my hands were shaking.
Theo, seeming to see that he might be in trouble, took a step away, but Donovan grabbed his arm and yanked him back. “Did I say we were finished?” Theo had Donovan beat on size, yet Donovan didn’t seem concerned at all.
I bit my trembling lip and hugged my arms around myself. Donovan might not be scared, but I was. Too scared to leave to get help. Too numb.
“Hey, I don’t know what you think happened—” Theo started to say, but Donovan cut him off.
“You don’t get to talk.” Donovan yanked Theo’s arm again. Hard. “It’s up to Sabrina whether she presses charges. Sabrina?” Donovan looked at me, his green eyes searing into mine, searching as though he was afraid I was lost.
Maybe I was lost.
I blinked. He’d asked me a question. “What was that?” I managed.
“Do you want to press charges against Theo?”
The reality of the situation came crashing back on me full force. I’d been assaulted. That asshole had had his fingers inside me. If Donovan hadn’t shown up, he’d have raped me by now.
I choked back bile.
Of course I wanted to press charges. Except…
I thought about it again. Went quickly through the scenario—white rich boy accused of assault by a nobody girl. Alcohol involved. No actual rape. Scholarship at risk. There was no way this would end in my favor, as much as I wanted it to. As much as the world needed brave warriors for violated women, it wasn’t what I wanted for myself. It shamed me, but it was my truth.
“It’s fine,” I mumbled, a tear slipping down my cheek. I just wanted to forget all of this. Go home, take a bath. Pretend none of this ever happened.
“What?” Donovan asked, forcing me to repeat myself.
“I’m not pressing charges,” I said louder. “I’m sorry.” I didn’t even know who I was apologizing to. Myself. Every victim of assault who’d never gotten a chance to face her attacker in cuffs.
“Fine.” Donovan let go of Theo’s arms, but when Theo turned around to face him Donovan kneed him in the nuts. “You deserve worse, you asshole. Unfortunately, the U.S. legal system probably wouldn’t give you much more than that. Penalties at The Keep are more severe though. You’re not welcome here. You won’t do business with our families. Your investments at King-Kincaid will be canceled. Now get the fuck off my property. You’re bleeding all over my Ferragamos.”
Theo wiped the blood dripping from his nose with the back of his hand and leaned a shoulder forward as though he were going to challenge Donovan. Then he seemed to think better of it and took a step backward. “All right. All right, Kincaid. Didn’t realize you were saving this one for yourself.”
“Get the fuck out of here.” Donovan never raised his voice, but his tone and his eyes and his posture said it all. Theo took off.
I was still shaking, still crying. I swiped the tears from my eyes and started to turn to thank Donovan when a car pulled up to the curb. I turned my attention there instead. It was my escort. What timing.
When I shifted back to Donovan, he was already climbing back up the stairs toward the front door without a goodbye. Without even an, “Are you all right?”
I cried the entire drive home. Cried for an hour in the shower. It wasn’t until hours later when I was curled up in the fetal position in my bed that I realized that Donovan’s Ferragamos were boots. And they’d been tied. He’d seen my situation through his bedroom window then taken the time to lace them up before coming downstairs to rescue me.