Chapter 19
Zander
I can practically feel him the moment he enters. That fucker, Danny Brooks. It’s not because of his voice laughing behind me. Or the way Lucian narrows his eyes slightly and pulls Dahlia closer to his side. It’s my sweetheart’s reaction. Arianna tenses immediately, sucking in a breath between her teeth and straightening her back.
Her eyes lose the brightness that I’ve only just brought back.
I lean in close to her, ignoring the look from Lucian and rub the tip of my nose behind her ear. “Relax,” I whisper into her ear and gently kiss the tender skin on her upper neck. Her soft hair tickles my nose as I do. I’m a hypocrite for telling her to relax. Nearly a dozen of the men in this room here know I’ve bought her. They know who she is, and they also know she used to be his.
She hasn’t noticed the way they’ve been looking at her. But I have.
Not a single fucker in this room has a clue that this was designed by Brooks. That he gave her to me to pay his debt, and that this is all a facade. Unless he’s told them.
I keep the smile plastered on my face as the thought hits me. Bringing the flute to my lips, I take a swig of the sweet champagne, the bubbles tickling the roof of my mouth.
If the men here know that he’s given her to me, they’re also well aware that I’m letting him pay his debts with her.
And that can’t fucking happen.
I hear Brooks laugh again, although it’s fainter this time and from across the room through a crowd of people. He should know better than to tell anyone about the arrangement. But he’s not a smart man. I put the empty flute to my lips, the glass resting against my bottom lip.
A shiver travels down my arms as Dahlia gently touches Lucian’s arm to grab his attention, completely oblivious to the entire situation. Arianna looks away, her head in the opposite direction as Brooks.
I’m struck by the sweet cadence of her voice as a waitress walking by asks for her drink. She politely tells her she’s fine as I pass the empty glass to the young woman and she sets it on her silver tray.
“Would you like some fresh air?” Dahlia asks Arianna, and she obediently looks to me before answering.
Lucian speaks up before Arianna can answer, saying, “I could use a moment away from the crowds.” His voice is low and only intended for his wife.
“Go ahead,” I tell Arianna, nodding my head toward the French doors. She seems a bit more at ease and I think it’d be best if she got the hell out of this room.
“I need to go to the restroom; I’ll meet you out there,” I answer Arianna and expect her to simply obey. Her hand reaches out to grab my arm as I turn. She’s quick to correct herself, shifting slightly with her expression falling and an apology on her lips.
“It’s alright,” I tell her softly before she can utter a single word, taking her hand in mind and rubbing soothing circles on the back of her knuckles. I stare deep into her dark green eyes and that’s when her reality hits me.
I haven’t even considered what she’s been through. My stomach churns with a sickness. What has he done to her? In a room full of people, all the noises and lights dim to nothing, merely blurs in my periphery as I take in the sadness and fear behind her eyes.
“I’ve got her,” Lucian says, snapping my gaze to his and breaking the small moment of clarity. As he reaches out to her in a casual manner, I nearly rip her away from him, from everyone. In the split second of a moment, I just want to take her away.
I clear my throat, remembering where we are. I straighten my suit and give her a small peck on the cheek. My hand splays across her lower back as I guide her toward Lucian. “I’ll be right back, sweetheart.”
With a tight smile, she nods her head obediently. Always obeying.
“Don’t let her leave your sight,” I tell Lucian low enough so only he can hear me. He nods and instinctively glances back toward the crowd, to Brooks.
The smile on my face is nowhere to be seen as I watch him take her away from me, his wife on his right and Arianna on his left.
The sound of running water floods my ears as I wash my hands, staring aimlessly at the lathered suds. The door to the bathroom opens at the same time as a stall door behind me, and it’s a reminder that I’m not alone. That I should be performing, but I need to get the fuck out of here.
My eyes finally lift to the mirror, my demeanor not at all what it should be. I can’t shake the feeling in the pit of my stomach when I realized she’s not okay.
“Payne.” The corners of my lips twitch as I hear that bastard’s voice. They beg to force my expression into a scowl, but I fight it, concentrating on the fact that a third man is in the room. Stephen Ikabal. He’s a clean-cut man with a penchant for younger women. He’s been married for three decades, and I highly doubt he’s been faithful for any of those years. But then again, she hasn't been either. They both prefer younger company, or so I’ve heard.
“Brooks,” I say and finally tear my eyes away from Stephen in the mirror as he washes his hands in the basin two down from mine.
“How are you?” Brooks cocks an eyebrow, leaning against the granite counter and facing me. Stephen doesn’t react, but he’s a coy old man. I’m sure he’s listening. Everyone’s always listening. Always watching for a weakness. When you’re on top, it’s so easy to fall.
I force a charming smile onto my face as I dry my hands, my eyes on Brooks. He fooled me. I had no idea gambling was his vice. I thought it was sadism. The thought chills my blood and for a moment the charm, dimples and all, slips as I think about my sweetheart. It doesn’t make sense how they fit. It just doesn’t add up.
“Well, and you?” I answer him. Although I’m relaxed and engaging Brooks, I’m highly aware of Stephen's presence as he turns off the faucet and dries his own hands. I need him to get the fuck out of here. I want nothing more than to grab this asshole by the collar and shove him against the wall. I need to know what he’s done to her to put that fear in her eyes.
Brooks nods his head, a smile on his face that looks cocky as his eyes flicker to Stephen as he passes us to get to the door. “Just missing my Arianna a bit.” His voice is chipper as he shrugs his shoulders. Every hair stands on end as Stephen pauses by the trashcan before tossing in the balled-up paper towel.
A chill sweeps across every inch of my skin. I can only imagine what they think of her if he’s been running his mouth. And I fucking hate it.
“I hope you’re getting your money’s worth,” Brooks says beneath his breath, but loud enough for Stephen to hear on his way out. The creak of the door opening and then falling closed easily is the only noise in the room as my hand balls into a fist, the skin tightening around my knuckles to the point where I’m convinced it will split.
I don’t wait for the door to close all the way; I don’t even lock it like I know I should. I can’t hold back the rage any longer.
I hit his jaw first, taking him by surprise. Maybe he expected me to act the part in this environment. After all, we’re not all alone in his office. The soft classical music spills through the bottom of the door as I grip his collar and hit him again with my right fist, knocking his head backward.