“Look who we have here,” Matteo’s voice booms from behind me. I spin around, ready to start running, but two guys grab me. “Aspen Mather… I’ve been waiting a long time to get my hands on you.”
Trying to pull free only makes them tighten their hold on me, and when I turn my head to glare at them, I realize I know both. One is Marcel from history class, and the other is Nash, one of Quinton’s friends.
“What do you want?” I grit through clenched teeth. Marcel is on one side, and Nash is on my other. Their meaty fingers are digging into my arms painfully, but I force myself not to react.
“You owe me a blow job, you know?”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“But you do. If it wasn’t for you, I would have gotten my dick wet that night at the Belmonte fundraiser. Or have you forgotten about that?”
I couldn’t forget it if I wanted to.
“Stop!” As soon as I step out of the lady’s room, I hear a high-pitched voice coming from somewhere down the hall. It’s only one word, but I can tell whoever said it is scared. I spin around to find its origin, but the hall is empty.
For a moment, I just stand there, listening, wondering if my mind is playing tricks on me. I’m just about ready to head back to the ballroom when I hear the same voice again.
“I said no!”
This time, I’m able to pinpoint where the voice is coming from better, and I set off in the direction of it. Right behind a large column, I find a small corridor. My blood boils when I see a large figure pressing a much smaller one against the wall. His back is so broad, I can’t really see the girl he is cornering until I step closer.
“Hey! Let her go,” I demand, anger making me braver than I probably should be.
The large figure spins around to face me, his dark eyes wild with rage. “We’re just talking. Get lost.”
“Let her go,” I repeat. When the words don’t seem to register in his small mind, I continue, “I’ll go and call security if you don’t.”
“Fucking snitch,” the guy growls and stomps past me.
I rush toward the girl leaning against the wall. Her head is bowed, her chest heaving, and she wraps her arms around her torso like she is trying to hold herself together.
“Hey, are you okay?” I ask, gently rubbing her upper arm. She looks up, her eyes brimming with fear.
“Thank you,” she whispers, and only then do I realize who she is.
“Adela?” I’ve only met her once before, but I remember her to be Xander Rossi’s oldest daughter. “We need to tell your dad. He’ll make sure that guy never touches anyone again.”
“No, no, no. Please, don’t tell anyone. Matteo won’t do that again.”
“You know that guy?”
“Yeah, he is a family friend.”
“Friend?” That didn’t look the least bit friendly.
“Well, his father is friends with my father, but that doesn’t matter. Please, don’t tell anyone. My dad would never let me go out again if he found out.”
“But you didn’t do anything.”
“Please, Aspen. You don’t understand. Please… here, take this.” She shoves something into my hand. I look down at my fingers and find a thin rose gold bracelet with a sparkly charm wrapped around my fingers.
“I can’t take this.” I look back up just as Adela slips past me. “Keep it. It’s a thank you and a good luck charm.”
I’ve kept that bracelet on me for a long time, and even now, I keep it close to me. Maybe not close enough. Because luck has abandoned me completely as I find myself in the clutches of these assholes.
“You’re nothing but a dirty pig. Do you have to force all the girls because you can’t find someone who actually wants you?”
“I could, but that wouldn’t be as much fun.” Matteo chuckles before ordering, “On your knees.”