“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Chris snaps, beating me to it.
Dark-and-broody doesn’t waste any time, and in a move that makes my heart do a funny flutter in my chest, he grabs Chris’ arm and twists it up behind his back, making the other man shout out in pain. “Funny,” my new tattooed friend comments lightly. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.” He slowly looks at me. “Are you okay?”
I nod, breathless, although this has nothing to do with the incident and everything to do with the intensity of the stare he’s giving me. The slight shift in his expression tells me that he doesn’t believe me. Thankfully he doesn’t push the issue, instead pinning Chris’ arm further as he tries to escape the hold.
“You need to apologise.” The stranger orders, leaving no room for negotiation.
“Fuck you and your little slut.” He practically spits out, teeth gritted in pain.
Oh, Chris. He must have a death wish. Perhaps it’s because he can’t see the deadly calm that settles over my new friend andit’s giving him a false sense of bravado. Or perhaps he’s just stupid.
“Wrong answer,” the stranger replies, kicking him in the back of the knees. Chris the creep crumples, falling forward into the wall. With his hand still behind his back and the other pinned under his body, he has nowhere to go and his cheek pressed up against the rough brick. Broody leans against him for good measure, pushing him further into the wall. I’m pretty sure he’s enjoying every moment of this. “Now, maybe you didn’t understand me the first time, so I’ll spell it out for you.”
I should leave, but I can’t seem to pull myself away. I want to see the situation resolved, and it’s nothing to do with the fact I can’t seem to move away from this handsome stranger. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
“If I see you touching any woman in this club without their permission again, I shall start removing fingers.” For some reason, the dark calm that’s settled over him feels so much more dangerous than if he was shouting and swearing. He leans in so his lips are almost brushing against Chris’ ear. “If you ever so much as breathe near…” He pauses, looking up at me and I know he’s silently asking my name.
I shouldn’t give it to him. He’s clearly dangerous, but he has just come to my defence. The least I can give him is my name. Why does this feel so much more meaningful than it should – as though sharing this personal detail will change everything? It’s laughable, really. After tonight, I won’t ever see him again, so telling him this is innocent enough.
“Holly.” I manage to croak out, still unable to shake the strange feeling.
“Holly,” he repeats slowly, as though testing the feel of the word. Many people have called my name before, but something about the way he says it causes a full body tingle to work through me. I’m pretty sure he knows the exact effect it has on me as oneof his eyes crinkles slightly with amusement. Slowly, he tears his stare from me and looks back at the dickhead he still has pinned against the wall.
“If you so much as breathe near Holly, then I shall remove your favourite appendage,” he continues, dangerously calm. “Do I make myself clear?”
Chris doesn’t even bother to fight, his face squashed up tightly against the wall and arm pinned behind him. “Yes.”
If he thought agreeing would grant him his freedom, then he is going to be disappointed.
“Apologise.” This time there is a hint of anger in my new friend’s voice, but his expression doesn’t change.
Chris knows this is the only way he’s going to escape this situation and although he would rather say something far worse, his eyes flick to me, glaring as best he can with his face pressed into the brick. “I’m sorry.”
It’s not the sincerest of apologies, but honestly, I don’t care either way, just wanting to get away from the creep. Somehow, though, I’ve managed to get entangled in whatever this is.
“Good.” My saviour releases Chris but doesn’t step out of his space, making the other man side-step around him. Chris looks furious, his cheeks pink as he glances around to see who might have witnessed his moment of embarrassment. I recognise that look, and know that violence usually follows. Dark-and-broody doesn’t seem to be bothered by this at all, dusting down his clothes before glancing over his shoulder and gesturing at the bouncers.
“Our friend here is just leaving. If you could see him safely to the door.” He instructs, nodding at the man in question as two huge bouncers approach. They look at Chris with disgust and I get the impression they have been watching us for a while. Why didn’t the step in and help?
“Yes, boss,” one of the bouncers replies dipping his head respectfully, answering my question with those two words. They grab Chris and guide him towards the door, their hands tightening on his shoulder when he tries to move away. He’s quickly out of sight and I can breathe a sigh of relief, a weight lifting from my chest.
I can feel my saviour’s gaze locked on me, and now I’m sure that Chris is no longer a threat, my pent-up anxiety chooses now to demonstrate itself. Biting down on my lower lip, I lift my gaze to meet the strangers. Boss, they called him. He must own the place, which explains why no one stepped in when he first came over.
Oh boy, I hadn’t realised just how handsome he was. Up close he’s perfect. His straight nose and strong jaw make him look like a model, his body art only adding to that. He’s practically a poster boy for a tattoo convention. It’s unfair how flawless his skin is, that even the small scar just above his lip seems toaddto his masculine beauty.
He seems to be examining me just as closely as I am him, his eyes caught on my lower lip that I’m still biting down on. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Caught in a daydream, I blink rapidly to focus on what he just asked me.
“Oh. Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” I reply, my stumbled words at complete odds with what I’m actually saying.Come on, Holly, pull yourself together.I wish I could say that it was just Chris’ rough handling that has me so flustered, but the tattooed adonis before me also has a part to play in my current state. Brushing back a strand of my hair to give me something to do, I notice the slight tremor in my hand.
Of course, he notices too. Narrowing his eyes, his stare is intense. Slowly, as though worried he might scare me off, he holds out his hand. “Come with me.”
It’s said as an order from someone who is used to being obeyed, yet I can hear the unspoken question in his voice. He’s offering me a choice. He doesn’t explain why he wants me to follow him or where we’re going, and after what just happened, I shouldn’t blindly trust the first man to help me. However, as he offers me his hand, offering me the choice, I do something I never usually would have.
I place my hand in his.
FOUR