Grievous (Scarlet Scars #2)(78)

I shake my head, whispering, “He’s not coming.”

“You do not think so?”

“He’s smarter than that,” I say. “He’s not going to show up here just because you suggested it.”

“Oh, I think you are wrong. In fact, I think he is already on his way. Maybe not for the money. Maybe not for you. But he will come, because he is not the type to turn down an invitation, and we both know that, pretty girl. He will show his ugly face soon.”

The more he speaks, the more his grip on me tightens, the tingles replaced with pain as he tangles his fingers through my hair, fisting a handful. I wince as he tugs my head back, straining my neck, forcing me to look up at him.

“But maybe you are right,” he says. “You will be lucky if he does not show. Because when he gets here, the first thing I am going to do is fuck you. Right here, like we used to, right where everyone can watch. I might even let him join, let him take you one last time, kill him while he is deep inside of that sweet pussy. Would you like that, suka? Being the last thing he ever does?”

I don’t respond. I don’t react.

Man, that makes him mad.

His cheek twitches. He shoves me away, nearly knocking my head into the table from the force of it as he slouches in his chair. I rub my sore scalp from where he pulled my hair, my face flushing when I glance around the room.

Everybody’s watching us.

Watching me, rather.

Before I can dwell on it, I hear the front door open. The alarm is disabled as a thick accent echoes through the foyer. “Vor!”

Markel.

I tense, hearing a struggle, a scuffle, before Markel appears in the doorway. He’s not alone, though, and parts of me viciously twist at the recognition, as Markel drags another guy with him. Declan.

“Ah, Mr. Jackson! How nice of you to join us!” Kassian waves into the room. “Have a seat. We were just waiting for your boss to make an appearance.”

Declan struggles as Markel shoves him further into the room. His lip is busted, bleeding, the side of his face swollen. He fought, hard, but you can’t tell it looking at Markel. He’s all put together.

Well, except for his eye—still swollen and bloodshot, a milky haze coating it. Oops.

He shoves Declan down onto the couch across from me, his eyes on my face. I can feel his gaze, even after I look away, my attention returning to Kassian’s phone, discarded on the table just inches away. My heart is racing like a jackhammer, banging against my bruised ribcage.

“I have to use the bathroom,” I whisper when Kassian’s hand weasels its way back into my hair.

“No,” Kassian says, barely paying me any attention as he snatches up a bottle of vodka from the table.

“I’ll make it fast,” I tell him. “I promise.”

He ignores me, drinking, his eyes fixed on Declan.

“Kassian, I really have to pee.”

My hand slips beneath his pant leg as I shift position, grasping his bare calf. It catches him off guard, me touching him. He reacts instinctively, shoving me off, throwing me right into the small table. I wince, the blow hard enough to rock the flimsy wood, knocking things off. Bottles tip over, and people scramble to grab them before the liquor spills out, while I catch myself on the edge of the table, grabbing the phone and slipping it behind my back.

I’m not wearing much, I know, but you’d be amazed where women can hide things. I slip the small phone right under my arm, tucking it in the band of the black bra, before holding my hands up in front of me defensively.

Kassian glares at me as I shake, genuinely fucking shake, because if he saw what I just did, I’m fucked. Literally, figuratively, every sense of that word and every which way it can happen. Fucked.

“Go,” he says. “Before I change my mind.”

I’m on my feet, scurrying away, but I don’t make it from the room before he speaks again.

“Markel,” he says. “Show the suka to the bathroom.”

I stall near the door. “I remember where it is.”

“I know,” Kassian says. “I just do not trust you.”

“But—”

“Either he escorts you,” Kassian says, cutting me off, “or you go right here in front of us all. Take your pick. There is no other option.”

Markel chooses for me, grabbing my shoulder and pushing me out of the room, his grip so tight I grimace the entire way down the hall. He shoves me inside of the nearest bathroom, feeling along the wall to blindly turn on the light. Stumbling, scowling, I grab the door to close it when his palm smacks against the wood, shoving it right back open.

He shifts his body into the doorway. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leans against the doorframe. He doesn’t look happy.

“Well?” He raises an eyebrow. “You said you had to go.”

“Can I get some privacy?”

“No.”

“Seriously? Can you turn the other way, at least?”

“No.”

My stomach drops. I just stand there, frozen.

“Stage fright?” he asks.

“This is humiliating.”

“I have seen you in worse predicaments. So go. I’m waiting. Tick, tick, stupid girl... time is being wasted.”

Rolling my eyes, I just do it. I didn’t really have to go, but I force myself to so not to raise suspicion. Afterward, I stand there, taking my time washing my hands, buying myself a few seconds to think.