How to Fail at Flirting(77)

I will not cry in front of this asshole.

“I’m not having this conversation with you, Davis.” I used my most detached voice and tried to move around him, though he blocked my path and stepped forward, edging me closer to a tree. He’d always used his size to box me in, to make me cower, but I was so sick of being scared. My adrenaline surged.

“You want to leak the photos?” I stopped backing up and stood squarely in front of him. “Then do it. I’m done with your games and your threats. I’m done with you hanging this or anything else over my head. You don’t get to control me anymore. You can’t hurt me now.”

His smirk froze in a mirthful grimace. The scent of his cologne assaulted my nostrils. I’d loved the smell of Polo before meeting him, but after we split, it turned my stomach. A moment later, when I pushed at his chest, trying to get around him, he backed me against the tree.

As soon as I hit the bark, my synapses fired in all directions and I tried to remember what I’d learned from Wes. I was tired of being scared, but fear coursed through me just the same.

“This tough-girl attitude doesn’t fool me, and I can definitely still hurt you. I can hurt your boyfriend, too. Or do you even care about that? You were always selfish. Selfish and stupid. What did you think you were doing in there, talking to me like that?” His voice was icy, and his eyes cruel and dark.

“Get out of my way, Davis.” I lunged, but I couldn’t get leverage with him so close, our chests touching.

He ignored me, adopting a soft tone one might use with a small child, grazing his finger along my cheek. “You’re not in charge of anything that’s happening here, pretty girl. Just like back there.”

I jerked away. “Don’t call me that, and get out of my fucking way or I’ll—”

“You’ll what? Scream? Everyone’s gone. No one would hear you. Anyway, who would they believe, Naya? They all respect me, and they know you’re just a dumb bitch with an agenda to ruin me.”

Everyone at the retreat did know him. And almost all of them had been around when he began his campaign to discredit me. Even Jill had looked at me like something dirty since seeing Davis touch me in the parking lot. The tears welled, and I struggled to keep them at bay. My heart pounding was a stark contrast to the peaceful, still woods around us.

“You won’t do anything,” he sneered. “And you’ll think twice before trying to make me look stupid again. Do you understand?” He was closer now, too close. I fought the urge to cower and nod. That’s what he wanted.

“You didn’t need any help to look stupid.” I straightened. “And this isn’t about me. I know you were beat out for the position at State by a vastly more qualified woman. This is about that, about your pride and your precious ego, but I’m not your damn punching bag anymore. I’m not your anything.”

His eyes flashed. He gripped my arms and shoved me backward again. Bark dug into my skin, and I stared up at him, my eyes wide and my breath short.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed. “You’re nothing. You’re inconsequential.” His grip on my shoulders tightened.

No one would hear me . . . and he knows it.

Jake.

No one can save me.

He touched my face again, a slow, rough drag of his index finger down my jaw before gripping my chin. I froze, my eyes darting around the small clearing—everyone else was at least a mile away. Davis tilted his head and squinted, leering at my chest and then back up.

“Get off me!” I pushed him, panic rising in my voice. I clung to the fact he couldn’t do anything too extreme because of where we were, and that we’d have to join everyone later. He’s too smart for that. Isn’t he?

“Davis, let me go!” I tried to wriggle free, but he was stronger, his pelvis against mine, hands moving down to hold my arms.

“You aren’t in charge here.” His voice was low, and his fingers dug into my skin.

I tried to knee him and failed, only grazing his thigh.

“That shit back there, you don’t get to talk to me like that, ever. You think you know about Caroline Rhodes? You two have one thing in common—both stupid bitches getting by because of what’s between your legs.” His eyes were dark, and his expression crazed. He rarely let go; even when he was hurting me, humiliating me, he was controlled and put together. I worried, for the first time, that he wasn’t weighing out the possibility of getting caught.

“Davis,” I pleaded. “Let go of me.”

His face brightened, and he sneered again, the resulting expression a horrific mask. “You scream, and everyone will know you’re the helpless child I told them you were. Misinterpreting a friendly hug from a colleague, tsk-tsk, Naya . . . Not that they’d hear you, anyway.” He dropped his other hand, yanking at his belt.

I closed my eyes.

This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.

I had no choice but to scream and hope someone could hear me. It would happen just like he said, and I’d be ruined all over again.

Helpless.

A victim.

But he didn’t get to win, not this time.

“Let me go!” I screamed and used my whole body to push him back.

He grabbed a handful of my hair, wrenched my head back, and slapped me hard across the face. Flashes of light dotted my vision as the pain registered. With all he’d done, he’d never hit me in the face. It had always been somewhere that could be hidden. At that, one thought blared in my mind. He’s out of control.