I fight the instinct to roll my eyes since that will only piss him off further. I don’t know what his problem’s been lately. His temper has been escalating and he freaks out over even the smallest things. The line between my being his girlfriend versus a possession he owns is getting blurrier by the day.
I don’t bother answering him—not that it matters anyway because his attention is already diverted back to his trust-fund buddies.
We stay for nearly an hour after that. I have the creepy-crawlies from the constant flow of perverted eyes taking their fill of my bare legs. I’ve never wished I were wearing a turtleneck and sweatpants so badly in my entire life, which is saying a lot for someone as fashion forward as I am.
The group of entitled assholes that Kyle calls his friends have been getting rowdier. Each of them, my boyfriend included, is drunk on scotch and high on violence from having watched the fight. I imagine that they all believe they are invincible. A bunch of power-hungry jackasses who think they are the next Rocky Balboa. I swear Kyle’s never as bad as he is when we are with them.
He drapes his arm over my shoulders, tucking the arm candy that belongs to him against his side. “Well, boys, it’s time I take this stunner home to bed.”
I ignore the slough of obnoxious comments coming from their mouths and put on my debutant smile. I’m far from a debutant. We don’t even have them in Canada, I don’t think, but nonetheless, it’s a persona I’ve become all too familiar with.
“Always a pleasure, gentlemen,” I coo sarcastically. One of them winks at me, and Kyle growls. “Come on. Let’s go,” I tell him, running my palm over the dress shirt on his chest.
He nods curtly and begins dragging me through the crowd. The only way out is the same way we came in—through the nasty, stench-ridden hallway. When we reach the end, the hulking bouncer with head-crushing biceps lets us out before firmly closing the door upon our exit. I’m flattening the seams of my dress from sitting for so long when I feel fingers snake around my bicep.
“What the fuck was that?!” Kyle hisses into my ear as he locks his grip around my arm.
I wince at the rough hold. It’s the same arm as earlier tonight and I think it’s already starting to bruise. “What the hell are you talking about?” I snap. “You’re hurting me again. Let go!” I yank my arm, but his hold is like a vise on my thin arm.
“Don’t play dumb. I saw you,” he grits out between clenched teeth.
“I don’t have a single fucking clue what you’re going on about,” I quip out, standing on my toes to look into his eyes.
“You wanted him!” he scolds. “I saw you flirting with him. Begging him to touch you with your eyes.”
My thoughts drift to the man in the ring in a panic. I didn’t think Kyle was watching.
“Did you really think I’d miss him winking at you?” He demands.
“Kyle, I—” I stammer before he interrupts me.
“Do you want to fuck my friends?” I blink in confusion. “’It’s always a pleasure, gentlemen.’” he says, mimicking my earlier farewell.
He’s talking about Brandon, thee little brat who winked at me when we were leaving. Seriously?
I take the arm he isn’t holding and stroke the side of his face. “Handsome, you’re drunk. I don’t want anyone else. Just you,” I coo.
Then he closes his eyes tight. I think he’s calmed down when he rips his eyes open again, slamming me into the brick wall behind us.
“Are you saying I’m a fucking liar? I know what I saw!” He shakes my body again and my head smashes into the wall. My visions starting to blur and a tear slides down my cheek. “You’re mine, doll. No one loves you like I love you.”
I’m terrified. It’s not the first time I’ve been scared of him, but tonight’s the first time he’s ever physically hurt me. “Don’t touch me!” I hiss, smacking his hand out of the way as he tries to cup the side of my face.
The anger in his eyes flares again as he grips me around the throat. “How many times to we have to go over this?” he shouts.
I claw at the hand around my neck. The alley is empty and there’s not a single person around to help me. The grip he has on my throat tightens and the edges of my already blurry vision are turning black. I can’t breathe. I’m running out of time.
I move my hands to grab his shoulders, something I learned in a self-defense class I took with Hannah, and hold on tight. I use every bit of strength and leverage I have, connecting my knee with his groin.
“Fuck!” he groans, releasing me to cradle his wounded testicles.