“Roonie?” JJ asks, worry lacing his tone.
“Look what we have here,” Silas calls out. “Let’s do shots.”
I look up and spot the Dark Prince. His black painted fingernails are wrapped around a huge, heavy-looking bottle filled with a deep amber liquid. The label is printed with swirling writing on it. I don’t know exactly what it is, but it’s definitely some kind of alcohol. One that calls for shots.
“You are not taking shots of my five thousand dollar brandy!” Charles shouts, making me jump.
The entire couch rocks as he gets to his feet, and I fall into Tate’s side. The Champagne glass in his hand rocks, but he manages to set it down on the coffee table without spilling anything. Then my Prince Charming wraps a protective arm around me, and I press into him as I try to stamp down the fear.
“Five thousand dollars?” Silas calls back, holding up the bottle. Charles rounds the bar after him, and Silas sidesteps him, keeping the bar between them. “I think I’ll just drink from the bottle, then.”
“Silas.” Charles growls and I hold my breath, waiting for Silas to give back the brandy. To put it away so I don’t have to see it anymore.
When JJ suddenly takes a seat on the couch next to me, I nearly jump out of my skin. He takes my hand and squeezes it, but I can’t breathe as I watch Silas, waiting.
The Dark Prince shakes his head, wild mane of dark hair flying. “Don’t see what the big deal is. We’re celebrating, aren’t we?”
“If you’re going to celebrate with my brandy, you’re going to drink it neat from a snifter.” Charles holds out a hand, and my heart nearly stops.
“I’m not drinking from some fancy fucking snifter,” Silas shoves the bottle at Charles. “You got anything else to drink around here?”
“Let me have a look.” Charles opens a cupboard and I breathe a sigh of relief when he places the brandy on the highest shelf, where it’s hopefully out of Silas’s reach. But then he pulls out three other bottles, each filled with alcohol, and sets them on the counter. “Have at it.”
Involuntarily, I squeeze JJ’s hand, hard. Logically, I know everything’s okay. This is how everyone at college celebrates. I’m probably the only person here who is afraid of what alcohol does to people.
Taking deep, calming breaths, I remind myself that not everyone who drinks turns violent. And these guys would never hurt me. I’m safe. I have to keep telling myself I’m safe, because I certainly don’t feel it.
“I think we should stop,” JJ says suddenly.
“Stop what?” Silas is the first to ask.
“This.” JJ gets to his feet. “Silas, I think you should go, man.”
“Why?” Silas asks in surprise. Tate and Charles do, too, but then their gazes slowly slide to me.
“What the fuck did she say about me?” Silas snaps, his cold eyes turning to me. “She fucking tell you to kick me out?”
“Hey.” Tate raises his hands defensively and gets to his feet. “Roonie didn’t say anything about you. We just think we should call it a night.”
“Go.” Charles adds, his tone brooking no argument.
“Fine.” Silas shoots me another glare and storms out of the apartment. “I’m going to go write our next song. You know, so we can pass the first round.”
The door slams behind him, and I jump.
“Don’t worry about Silas,” JJ says softly as he goes to lock it.
I nod and my gaze drifts from the door to the two Champagne glasses on the coffee table.
“I’ll get them,” Charles says, grabbing all three glasses with one large hand and carrying them to the kitchen. He dumps the contents into the sink and then follows it up by tipping the entire Champagne bottle into it. I want to say something—to stop him from wasting it—but I can’t bring myself to do it.
“Talk to us, Roonie,” JJ says softly, taking a seat on the coffee table directly in front of me.
“About what?” I ask, feigning ignorance. I glance toward the kitchen, where Charles is putting all the glasses in the dishwasher.
“You were scared,” JJ says softly. “The Champagne. The brandy. The shots...”
“It’s... nothing.” I stare down at my hands. The heavy fermented smell of alcohol dissipates, but I can’t seem to relax.
“It’s something,” Tate says. He places his hand on my knee, and I feel the heat of his touch through the thin silk of my dress. “Whatever happened, you can tell us, Roo Roo.”
I swallow hard, and then I start to talk.
Chapter 6
I tell the guys everything. How Father started drinking more and more after Mom died. How every time he did, he’d lose control. Get angry. Scare me.
“Did he hit you?” Charles growls from his spot on the couch to my right, which he’d grabbed almost as soon as JJ vacated it. The Beast’s leg is pressed up against mine, and I find his nearness comforting.
I can barely make him out through the tears, but I nod just before another sob escapes. “I couldn’t stand it anymore. So I ran away.”
“And that’s when I found you,” Tate, who’s on the couch to my left, finishes for me. He pulls me protectively into his side, and as his warmth envelops me, I feel safe.
“The bruises on your arm,” Charles presses. “He did that?”
I nod, my hand instinctively going to my bicep, where Father had grabbed my arm and dug his fingers into my skin to stop me from singing.
“Why didn’t you just tell the doctor?” Tate demands.
You can’t do anything right, Father’s words bounce around in my head.
I let out a sob.
“Tate,” Charles snaps in warning and pulls me closer.
“I didn’t mean it like that, Roonie,” Tate tells me.
“We need to call the police,” JJ adds. He’s sitting on the coffee table in front of me, his elbows on his knees, his eyes level on mine. His usual flirty expression is completely gone, and I can hear the judgment in his tone. The criticism.
“Don’t, please,” I cry. “It wasn’t his fault.”
“The fuck it wasn’t his fault,” JJ shouts.
“I say we march over there right now,” Charles growls. “Give that man a little taste of his own medicine.”
I feel a wave of fear. Not fear of Charles, even when he looks more beastly than ever. Fear for him. Fear of Father.
“Charles, don’t!” I grab his arm. Even though he could easily pull away, he freezes. It’s almost like my touch somehow tames him. His entire body vibrates with tension, but he doesn’t move a muscle while I keep my hand on his.
“You’d protect him, after what he did to you?” Charles asks, his voice a low growl.
“N-no, I just...” I don’t know how to explain. Don’t know how to make the guys understand.
“He’s your father. He had no right to hit you. He had no right to do this to you!” Charles pulls his hand away from me, and I grab for it again.
“Charles, please. If you hurt him, you’ll get in trouble. Or... or... what if he comes looking for me?”