God. I sound like a total lying bitch, and maybe I am.
But I need to be. I can't let myself actually fall for the six-foot-something lunatic standing in front of me, looking like he wants to either rip my head off or pick up where Karl left off.
“Shit, you're drunk. I never should've let you outta my fucking sight for one second.” He grabs my wrist, and for about the fourth time that night, I'm led around by a man.
Fire explodes in my belly. I yell, try to fight. It doesn't do me any good. We burst out of the room and he marches me through the VIP lounge, toward another not-so-secret passage in the club.
“Ty! Ty! Let me fucking go! I can walk on my own, you know.”
“I don't know shit when you're like this. The only fucking thing I know is that I'm never letting another man lay his hands on you, even if he's not a sinister little pissant like my dearly departed Swedish manager.”
We're going down a short, dark hallway now. The EXIT sign glows red above a door. As soon as it's open, I smell exhaust fumes and hear rowdy laughter. We step out next to his car, perfectly parked in his reserved spot behind the club.
“No way! I'm not going home right now.” I stand up on my heels and glare at him. “I'm going back inside. I'll shake this off so I'm good to drive in a few hours. I can't let our parents see me like this...”
His eyes narrow. I should be expecting him to grab me and throw me into the car, but it's something else when he really does it.
I'm a screaming, bawling mess, totally going to pieces. Too drunk to pop the lock and get out again too. Mercy.
Catching a quick flash of my reflection, seeing what I've become, is all that calms me the hell down while he slides into the driver's seat.
“We'll take our time. I'll sneak you in. Your ma's oblivious, and Dad's got his head too far up his own ass to notice anything. Stop worrying all the goddamned time. You're in good hands with me.”
Am I? I feel like I've got a boa constrictor around my throat.
Before, I was just confused, drowning in all the storming emotions he ignites inside me. Now, I'm livid.
He's doing it. Again.
The ever-cocky asshole steering us through downtown Seattle's controlling my fucking life. Sure, he saved me tonight, but then he has the arrogance to tell me he'll decide who gets to lay his hands on me?
Where does he get off? Where? Or does he just get off on bossing me around like I'm really this little-sister-wannabe-lover combo he can't decide what to do with?
I'm fuming, trying to focus on breathing without passing out. My stomach heaves every time the car lurches, and I fight just to avoid getting sick all over his fancy leather interior, which is even nicer than the one in my new car.
Shit. My car!
“Hey, dick, since you're taking me for a ride tonight – who's going to get my car home?”
He looks at me out of the corner of his eye and sneers. “I've got connections. I own a whole fucking nightclub, babe. My old man's the richest man for several hundred miles. You really think I haven't sorted out the logistics of that shit about a second before I decided to get your ass home?”#p#分页标题#e#
He makes me feel so small. If both my hands weren't tucked close to my angry belly, trying to hold everything inside, I'd slap him clean across his stupid smug face.
But I guess we've been there, done that, haven't we?
Nothing gets through to him. Nothing.
I can't make him respect me. I can't decide if I really deserve it. All I can do is settle into my seat and let him punch my ticket to another rung of hell. The only thing I know about my destination is that I'm bound to suffer, guaranteed to bottle up my emotions while they eat me from the inside out, this fucked up love-hate thing we've got going that smolders like slow moving acid.
“You always have all the answers, don't you?” The saner part of my brain's screaming shut up, and it wants me to bite my tongue. But it comes out anyway.
Ty stomps the accelerator a little harder.
“Yeah, I do. I know how my world works, as much as I fucking can. Shit, you saw what happened back there when I miscalculated. I almost got you literally fucked by some piece of shit who's not fit to stick his dick in the nearest blender!” His fist comes down on the steering wheel – hard.
I blink, trying to comprehend what I'm hearing. It's bitter and violent, even by his standards. There's something else too.
Is Ty Asshole Sterner actually feeling...guilty?
I didn't think it was possible. I didn't think he had a conscience. He seemed like a wild beast before, a force of nature, certainly not a man with thoughts and feelings and regrets behind his inked up muscle.
“Huh? Are you really saying you're...sorry?”
He just drives for a few seconds. Then he looks at me and narrows his eyes. The shadows dance with a few fresh bruises on his jaw.