He stands, shaking his head. “Ya see…that’s what you say.” He moves in closer, blowing his alcohol-soaked breath on me. “That’s what you always say.” My chest starts to heave. My breaths grow shallow as David closes in on me, his tall lean body brushing against mine as he barricades me against the isolated bar, his thin, lengthy arms locking down on the surface of the long counter behind me. He places his hands on either side of me, leaning in.
He’s drunk out of his mind, that much I can tell. But it’s not his glassy eyes or stilted stumble that makes my heart pound. It’s his steady, stoned glare. He’s looking at me as if he doesn’t even see me anymore… Just a body. Two pairs of tits wrapped in a tight ensemble, open for his touch.
His gaze scans slowly over my figure, but the first time since I met him, the wealthy, blue-blooded lawyer with the nice smile, I truly don’t want it. His leer isn’t just lewd… It’s enough to make my skin crawl. I try to back up and find my backside pressing flush against the lacquered bar, the smell of liquor wafting off of him in waves. And with Emily still in the cab and the bartender busy with other customers, the conversation between David and I goes unnoticed—our little face-off way too off to the side to be seen, our exchange blocked by David’s long body.
I can’t believe it. I’m fucking trapped.
I put a hand against his chest, pushing. “You’re drunk. Sleep it off.”
The corners of his mouth tug upward as he blinks slowly. “Why don’t you sleep it off with me?”
“I can’t. I’ve got to go.”
“Come on,” he urges, pressing his pelvis into mine. I can feel the beginnings of a hard-on beneath his wool pants, and the drunken lawyer grabs my wrists nearly bringing them to his grinding crotch. I snatch them back.
“No,” I snap. “Move, David. Get out of my way.”
“Stop playing so hard to get, and I will,” he starts to growl.
I twist between his arms as he grabs at me. “No, I said fucking stop it…”
“You stop teasing me first.”
“David… David. David, I said fucking no!” I push again at his chest, backing him up. It gives me the space I need to move, and I bring my knee between his legs, jerking it upwards to slam into his half-chubbed cock. He yelps and backs away, hissing out a few expletives before looking up at me. His normally handsome face is twisted…and furious.
“You uptight bitch,” he spits. “Do you know how many women would kill to be with me?”
I huff the words, breathing heavily as I glare at him. “My bet? Only the criminally insane, you piece of shit.”
He cups his hands at his crotch, wincing. “I was the insane one, making a deal that lost me the fucking firm. All for the wet spot between the thighs of some damaged, frigid divorcee,” he throws my way.
And then I watch him get hit, his head hurtling backwards as a fist lands over my shoulder, squarely in his face. My vision goes black.
HEATH
Don’t you do it, asshole. Don’t you fucking do it.
I’m walking right up, clenching my fists against my hips as I watch the scene before me.
Funny thing is… I can’t tell if I’m talking to him… or myself.
I’m a barely contained maelstrom, ready to strike with bolts of fury.
Inexplicable hot anger burns into my chest, and I am squeezing my fists so hard that my fingertips start to tingle. I am not prepared for what happens next. I see red.
Somewhere in the blurry haze of my consciousness, I realize that I’ve actually made in time, punched David in the face. Past the other drinking patrons, over Violet’s silky strawberry red hair, I plant a fist.
Right into the fucker’s nose.
I don’t realize what’s happening until I’m standing directly in front of David, my hands wrapped around his collar, hoisting him eye-level with my six-three frame. His face turns as red as his collared shirt, his nose emitting a deep burgundy ooze. He tries to slink from my grasp.
“Give me another fucking reason to knock your head clean off your fucking shoulders, King? Please. Give me another goddamned reason.”
He spits in my face, a bloody spew that makes contact with my nose.
I hit him again. My fist makes contact with mouth and teeth, scrapping my knuckles as they slam. He doubles over, going down, and I release the suit-covered jackass with as much force as I’ve grabbed him with, watching him stumble backward, as he barely catches his balance.
He blinks rapidly as his kneecaps scrape the floor. He stumbles to his feet.
“You stupid bastard,” he mumbles through a mouthful of blood. “She isn’t even worth it. When I made the bet for her, I thought there was no way I could lose. But then your fucking father wakes up…and the stock bounces back. Fuck you goddamned Sparrows.”
My adrenaline is pumping. I’m almost sure I’ve misheard the bumbling prick until a set of fourth footsteps joins in. David glances over my shoulder, tucking his tail between his legs as he scampers out the back door.
Violet’s own eyes swing towards the front. I plant a foot to turn.
“What the hell is going on in here?!” a voice booms from behind me, the thunderous tone undeniable. It hits me with a brutal force that shocks me into immediate attention.
And within three-point-three milliseconds, I have to come to grips with the fact that my father is here. Alive and well.
Fitzgerald Sparrow has survived a miracle and walked out unscathed.
I rotate on my heel towards the door. “Wha…what are you doing here?”
My father is as physically imposing as his voice. His large, muscular frame takes up the entire doorway of the back room of the bar, and even his business attire cannot hide the immense muscles beneath. It’s all part of the power image of King & Sparrow.
Powerful influence. Powerful minds. Powerful bodies.
“What am I doing here?” he asks. “I own this goddamned building. This city block. Question is: What are you doing here?”
“I was actually here for something else,” I tell him. I motion off-handedly toward David’s blood on the floor. “I got sidetracked.”
He looks behind me at the small red pool on the floor.
“Huh. I see,” is all he says. He never was very sympathetic. To anyone. He doesn’t give a shit about King’s current state.
“Never mind that,” he barks, the broken lawyer fumbling out the door of no consequence. “I came down to talk to you. I talked to Marilyn. She told me you might be here after I saw you weren’t at your penthouse.”
My damned sister. She knew.
“You woke up…” I throw at him.
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“Thought you’d take it better this way.”
“Why?” I scoff. “Because you know me so well?” I walk forward, facing him. “Well, you know the fuck what, Dad? I’m not David King. I’m not your people. Maybe once, I was one of those people: a spoiled ass teen turned adult…with nothing but money and time to waste. I tried to follow in your footsteps. I tried, and I kept failing at it…because it’s not me. It never really was. But you did do something right with me, Dad. You instilled an appreciation to be great. To strive for something bigger and better. Well, now I’ve found it.” I think of Violet. “And that’s all I need. So, I’m done with the bullshit, Dad. I’m done with being your flunky. King & Sparrow is my fucking business now. We can build instead of destroy. And if you can’t agree to that, then the only thing I’m concerned with destroying…is you.”