Chapter Three
Ivy
Mom swoops in, pulling my attention away from Ashton as she grabs me for a hug. "I'm so proud of you, honey," she says huskily, still dabbing at her tears. She's a tough cookie, and it's rare for anyone other than me to witness her shedding tears.
She's earned a fierce reputation in her field of work and is constantly sought after for high-profile cases. Like tomorrow, for example, when she leaves for New York to defend a well-known celebrity accused of beating up his girlfriend.
Another guest steals Mom away, so I spend the next hour doing the rounds, talking with the family and friends who've come to help me celebrate. Clara, my best friend from college, arrives a little later, saving me from an awkward conversation with some distant family cousin. Just because I've recently earned my nursing degree doesn't mean I want to hear all about the skin tags he has growing on his scrotum.
Clara isn't alone, however, and I'm surprised to see Brent is with her. She's obviously brought him as her plus one, which seems odd. We only dated a few times, so we were never officially boyfriend and girlfriend. We didn't end on the best of terms, though. He had feelings for me that I couldn’t return because I was pining for someone else.
Clara and I catch up for a little while before she heads for the buffet table, leaving me alone with Brent. I'm expecting things to be awkward, but if anything, he seems overly attentive as we talk. He touches me at every opportunity as he refills my wine glass, asking me about my plans now I've graduated. I try to focus on answering his questions, but my attention is half-hearted, at best.
I need to move past this obsession with Ashton.
Maybe I'll join a dating site. But how many men are looking to date an overweight virgin? Besides, the thought of being intimate with anyone except Ashton is just wrong. Not to mention, Mom would probably have a coronary. She wants me to be independent, but she also thinks the world is full of predators that will club me over the head, drag me back to their cave, and make me their sexual slave. Somehow, that doesn't sound like such a horrible idea with Ashton on the other end of the club.
The evening drags on. The more I try to ignore Ashton, the more aware I am of him. Every time my eyes find him, he's already watching me with a frown. I can't help but notice that Rebecca, one of Mom's divorced friends, is sniffing around him. The sight of her pawing at him makes my stomach churn. Pretty sure I've heard Mom moan about her being high maintenance, which is one of the reasons she's divorced. The other being, she was banging the guy next door.
I deliberately move to the other end of the room to escape the sight of them, but seconds later, Ashton has closed the space between us again, Rebecca trailing on his heels.
I'm done. I need a few minutes to myself. I've drunk more alcohol than I usually do, and I feel a little dizzy and nauseous. The room suddenly feels far too hot, and I need some fresh air.
I slip away quietly while Ashton's back is turned, heading through the large kitchen that leads to the decking out back. Kicking off my shoes, I walk barefoot toward the summer house at the bottom of the garden, enjoying the sensation of the cool grass beneath my feet.
I take a seat on the swing, shielded from the house by the ivy-covered trellis that wraps around one end of the small porch. This is my favorite place when I need some thinking space and a little peace and quiet. The combination of the wine and the fresh air has my head spinning, and I rest it back against the swing. I'm almost dozing off when the sound of approaching footsteps warns me I'm about to have company.
"Thought I saw you sneak out," Brent says, appearing around the trellis. He sits on the swing next to me, sliding an arm along the back and around my shoulder.
"What are you doing?" I ask, looking pointedly at his hand resting on my shoulder and then back at him. He looks fuzzy, and I'm beginning to feel… peculiar. My head feels heavy, as if my neck can no longer support its weight.
"You okay? You look wasted," Brent replies, ignoring my question and narrowing his eyes on me.
I try to stand up, but the world sways around me, and bile crawls up my throat. "No. I don't feel well," I reply, my words slurred.
"Don't worry, baby. I'll take care of you," he purrs, his voice dropping suggestively as his arm tightens around my shoulders.
"I need to get back inside," I say, trying again to stand up. I groan, leaning forward as my stomach revolts at all the wine I've drunk.
"Why don't we go inside the summer house, and you can have a little lie down on the sofa," he says, helping me to my feet and urging me through the door.
Blackness creeps in around the edges of my vision, and I stumble. Then I feel a soft surface beneath my back as he lays me on the sofa.
"Did you think I wouldn't notice how you were looking at Ashton?" Brent says next to my ear, and I crack my eyes open to see him looming over me. "He's the one, isn't he, Ivy? The reason I wasn’t good enough? You want him, don't you? Got a thing for older men, eh? Hate to break it to you, but you don’t stand a chance with a man like him. Tell you what, I’m gonna do you a favor and pop that cherry you’ve been guarding because no other fucker will ever be brave enough to fight their way through all that fat!" he says nastily.
I want to hit him. I want to punch his teeth down his throat. But I can't seem to move. My body feels heavy, sluggish.
"Just fuck off, Brent," I sigh, letting my head flop back on the sofa.
It's a fight to keep my eyes open while nausea rolls in my stomach. I feel a sudden tug at my chest, and cool air wafts across my skin. Brent has yanked my dress down, exposing my breasts.
His hands move to his belt buckle. "I usually like my women a little smaller, but I’m going to make an exception for you," he grunts, squeezing my breasts.
I try to push him away, try to open my mouth to yell at him to take his fucking hands off me, but my limbs are heavy, and I can't seem to form words. I just want to sleep.
I hear a loud crash, and my eyes pop open momentarily. Brent is gone, and Ashton is standing over me, his face a mask of rage.
Then there's nothing.