Just Be Her Read online

  A large, sweaty palm wrapped around my wrist and yanked me forward; my hips hit the edge of the bar with a painful crunch.

  “How many fuckin’ times we gotta order?” The blonde’s boyfriend looked ready to climb over the bar and strangle me. Judging by how hard he was gripping my wrist, I had no doubt he could. “Get our damn drinks, bitch!”

  My heart hammered in my chest as my eyes went wide with panic. “Let go of me, asshole!” I screamed, getting the attention of the other bar staff as I tried to twist out of his grip.

  I glanced at the other side of the room, but the last bouncer was gone. Was he on his way to help Andre with the college guys? Or to me?

  My wrist burned; my hips and back ached from the awkward position. The man’s breath reeked of alcohol, and his eyes were filled with rage, his pupils huge. Spittle flew from his mouth and landed on my cheek as he screamed something else into my face.

  The words didn’t register. I frantically batted my free hand around on the bar, looking for something, anything, I could use to defend myself. Sticky surface, bottle opener, wet rag . . . My fingers brushed the automatic water-soda dispenser. I grabbed the little contraption and raised it like a gun to his face, pressing the button.

  Brown liquid spurted out of the nozzle and straight into his eyes—I guess I’d pressed the button for Coke. How ironic.

  He spluttered and stumbled back, but his girlfriend sneered and lunged forward. Before she could get to me, a beefy arm wrapped around her waist, and she was yanked off her feet by the bouncer. He grabbed the guy by the collar and hauled them both toward the front door. The crowd parted to let them through.

  “Toni? Toni!” I startled and batted an unfamiliar hand away, only to realize it was one of the casual bar girls who had been trying to pull me back from the bar. She must’ve reached my side just as the bouncer did—it all happened so fast.

  “You all right? That was fucked. What an asshole.” She smoothed her hands down my shoulders, concern in her eyes.

  I rubbed my sore wrist and nodded. “Yeah, I’m OK.”

  “Go have a break. God dammit, where’s Andre?” She turned away, rushing to take orders. Once the crazy people were removed from the crowd, people didn’t give a shit anymore—they just wanted their drinks.

  In a daze, I backed up until I hit the counter with all the liquor bottles, then looked to the front door. The commotion there was gone—just a single bouncer standing in his spot. I turned my head in the opposite direction, toward the back corridor. The other two bouncers were escorting several stumbling drunks toward the exit, a few of whom had blood running down their faces. That fight was over too, but I couldn’t see Andre.

  I also couldn’t seem to move. I just wanted to get out of this room, get away from all this noise so I could convince my body it was no longer in danger. But it was so damn loud, and the lights were flashing, and there were people everywhere.

  I looked up to the stage. It was empty, the abandoned drum set only just visible over the crowd. When had they finished their set? Everything had happened at the same time, and now I’d lost them both, and I was alone with no idea how to make my feet move through the crowd of strangers.

  My breaths became ragged, and I closed my eyes, trying to focus on slowing my hammering heartbeat. I gripped the edge of the counter and started to slide down. My knees didn’t feel like they could hold me up any longer.

  Warm hands wrapped around my arms, halting my descent, and my eyes flew open.

  Ren’s wide green eyes stared back at me. I could see the questions in his concerned gaze. He turned me, pressed his chest to my back, and shuffled me through the crowd to the back corridor.

  As the door swung closed behind us, Ren spun me around to face him. But before he could speak, the door flew open again. Andre’s big arm flattened it against the wall, his frame filling the opening.

  In the next instant, Andre had the door firmly closed, and the two of them were boxing me in.

  “Did he hurt you?” Ren demanded.

  “Are you all right?” Andre ran gentle fingers down my arm, ghosting over the wrist and lifting my hand between us to inspect it. “I couldn’t get to you in time. I’m so sorry.”

  “I finished the song just as that asshole lunged for you, but I couldn’t get from the stage to the bar fast enough either.” Ren gritted his teeth and shook his head. “What the fuck happened? I’ve seen you take out bigger and meaner dudes than that asshole a hundred times.”

  He brushed the hair off my forehead. The touch was so tender, not at all like the possessive, rough way he touched me when we had sex.

  “Uh . . . I, umm . . . I’m not . . . I couldn’t . . .” It took my brain a beat to catch up—to realize he was actually talking about Toni. I had no doubt in my mind she knew exactly how to handle rowdy, threatening men with no problem. How common was this shit?

  I’d been underestimated in business meetings, talked down to in boardrooms, propositioned in offices. I could handle a misogynistic asshole businessman, or even a tradesman on the vineyard. That I was used to. That I could handle. This? I’d never had someone grab me, invade my personal space, and physically threaten me. It made my skin crawl all over again just thinking about it.

  “It was fucking pandemonium out there.” Andre saved me from having to fumble through an answer. “We just realized some asshole’s been selling molly all night. Looks like it was laced with something bad. The bouncers had to call an ambulance for a few of those frat boys. I’ve got ’em bootin’ anyone who even looks at someone wrong.”

  “Fuck. Do you know who it was?” Ren ran his hands through his messy hair. I wanted to do the same—feel the strands under my fingers, maybe give them a tug. I needed something to tether me to the present moment.

  I hissed when Andre touched a tender spot on my wrist.

  “Motherfucker,” he muttered. “That’s gonna bruise, but it’s not broken. Let’s get some ice on it.”

  “Did he hurt you anywhere else?” Ren raked his eyes up and down my body.

  I cleared my throat. “My hips hit the bar pretty hard,” I said, trying to make the words sound less vulnerable than I felt

  They both reached for my waist at the same time, then realized I was wearing a romper.

  “What the fuck is this thing?” Andre grumbled as he tugged at the fabric, and Ren scratched his head.

  Laughter bubbled up in my throat—my body’s response to a highly stressful situation. But the sight of these two dominant, manly, abrasive men being foiled by an item of clothing was suddenly hilarious.

  I burst out laughing, leaning my head back against the wall and letting all the tension out. I even snorted at the end before wiping tears from the corners of my eyes. They were both smiling now, their eyes crinkled in amusement.

  “I’ll get some ice. You get her upstairs,” Andre ordered and turned for the door.

  Ren turned his back to me and crouched down, flapping his hands behind himself. Despite the situation, I smiled. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a piggy-back.

  I wanted to jump up, but my legs were still shaky, so I lifted first one knee, then the other slowly. He straightened and adjusted his grip. Pain shot through my hips, making me hiss again, and his whole back tensed under me.

  “I got you. Here we go.” He climbed the stairs slowly, his movements careful. By the time he lowered me gingerly to the ground at the top of the stairs, Andre was back with a bag of ice. He moved past us and unlocked his studio door, and Ren took my hand in his and pulled me inside.

  Andre turned on the overhead lamp; the harsh light made me squint after the dimness of the bar.

  Ren lowered my zipper, his fingers trailing down my sweaty back, while Andre gently took my wrist and covered it with the ice.

  “Uh, I can just go take a look at my hips in the mirror,” I offered, suddenly realizing I was about to be semi-naked in front of them both.

  “Why?” Andre frowned.

  “Yeah, we’ve
both already seen you naked.” Ren pushed the fabric over my shoulders.

  “Good point, I guess.” I frowned. Had they discussed me? Swapped notes? Neither one was acting jealous, but then, it wasn’t as if I’d made promises or commitments to either of them. I burned to know what they’d told each other.

  Andre removed the ice so Ren could slide the romper down my arms and over my hips. The fabric pooled at my ankles, leaving me in a plain black bra and neon-yellow boy shorts.

  Andre returned the ice to my wrist even as he bent down to inspect my hips. Ren stayed at my back, his hands loosely on my waist, and leaned around my side to get a good look.

  They both stared for a really long time, poked the hipbones and the soft flesh around them. Their prodding didn’t hurt. I didn’t think I was bruised or injured. I was pretty sure I was just sore from the sudden impact and the way all my muscles had tensed at once.

  Their touch became less exploration and more caress.

  I rolled my eyes. “Guys, I’m fine. Pretty sure it’s just tight muscles.”

  They murmured their agreement.

  Andre placed a gentle kiss to my bellybutton before straightening. Ren waited until he was upright before kissing my shoulder, his lip piercing digging into my skin in a way that made me shiver.

  One of his hands moved to my belly, fingers splayed, as Andre rested my injured wrist against his chest and held it there with the bag of ice. He stepped closer until Ren’s hand was squished between our bodies, then draped an arm over both our shoulders.

  For a few moments, they just held me. I breathed in their scent, felt their heat pressing into me from all sides, and slowly, my muscles relaxed.

  Andre was the first to pull away. “We’re a bar chick down, so I gotta go make sure everything’s OK downstairs. Keep icing this, OK?” He gave me a pointed look. “Have a shower and get into bed. I’ll close up and be back as soon as I can.”

  Ren released me too. “I’ll just help the band load the gear into the van, and I’ll hang around to help.” He didn’t say he’d be coming back upstairs, but he didn’t say he was leaving either.

  Which would I prefer? Logically it would be a bad idea to jump into bed with both of them—it would only complicate things more. But my body practically hummed at the very idea of it.

  They shuffled out the door, and I found myself standing there with my romper around my ankles, holding the ice to my own wrist.

  What happened at the bar had really shaken me. But within minutes, those two had gotten me out of there, checked me for injuries, made me feel safe, and even unwittingly made me laugh. They’d even managed to hold off a panic attack that had been moments away.

  I toed out of my shoes and used Andre’s shower. By the time I’d dried off, I felt like myself again.

  I was glad Andre and Ren had been there for me, but I also had to give myself credit. I’d faced a dangerous, unfamiliar situation and managed to defend myself. I wasn’t sure how many gallons of Andre’s Coke I’d wasted, but it had worked to get that whacko off me.

  I was a capable, confident woman who didn’t take shit from anyone—in the boardroom or in a rough bar. And I wasn’t going to hide upstairs while everyone else dealt with the mess. If I cowered now, I’d never get behind that bar without it causing me anxiety again.

  A little voice in the back of my mind reminded me that, come next week, I wouldn’t ever need to. But I ignored it and dashed across the hall buck naked to pull on a fresh pair of shorts and a tank top.

  I made my way downstairs before I could change my mind, the thumping music getting louder with every step.

  Twenty-One

  Toni

  The light was hazy with the purple tinge of dawn when I woke up, but Oren wasn’t in the bed next to me this time. The shower was running, the old pipes making that loud whining noise I’d gotten used to.

  I stayed perfectly still, staring at the rapidly brightening sky through the open window. Maybe if my body remained still, so would my mind, keeping me from thinking about the clusterfuck I’d created.

  A cloud shifted, the first rays of sun glinting against the diamond on my left hand.

  This wasn’t my ring.

  This wasn’t my life.

  This wasn’t even my name. I was such a fucking idiot.

  I’d spent years—years—keeping people at arm’s length to avoid this exact situation. Three weeks with Oren, and he’d batted my outstretched arms out of the way to wrap himself around my soul. I just wasn’t sure why I’d let him.

  Without him in the bed next to me—his mesmerizing eyes distracting me, his intoxicating scent enveloping me—I could actually think clearly. I’d told myself I needed to get him out of my system before I left, but all I’d ended up doing was letting him burrow his way further in. Now when I went home and had to pretend we’d never even met, I’d miss him. It would hurt as badly as the loss of my parents. He wasn’t dying, but he may as well have been—I was never going to see him again. Now I’d have three gaping holes in my chest.

  I needed a cigarette so badly I’d cut a bitch to get to a discarded butt in a gutter. I wanted a stiff drink too, or maybe ten. I wondered if my dealer had changed her number again—I hadn’t been in touch with her for months, but I had a feeling I needed something stronger than booze to numb this pain.

  I rolled onto my back, hoping to ease the pressure in my chest, but it just felt like the elephant’s ass found a more comfortable spot on my clavicle.

  The shower shut off. My heart started hammering.

  I flung the sheets back and was halfway across the room when the bathroom door opened. A plume of steam preceded Oren stepping out, a towel slung low on his hips.

  “Hey, you’re up.” He beamed at me, rubbing the top of his hair with another towel. Then his smile fell. “What’s wrong?”

  He took a step forward. I took two back and grabbed the door handle. Why couldn’t I make myself turn it?

  “This was a mistake.” I shook my head, and his frown deepened. “I can’t . . . I’m not who you think I am.”

  “What? Alex, we’re still getting to know each other. Neither one of us is who the other thinks.”

  I chuckled darkly. He wasn’t getting it. But then, I wasn’t exactly spelling it out for him either.

  “This is too much. I can’t handle this.” Why had I stayed with him that first night? Why had I come back for more? What the fuck did I think would happen? There was no universe in which the billionaire with a heart of gold ended up with the foul-mouthed, uneducated orphan white trash. Oren senior would probably dig his own grave just so he could climb down and turn over in it. Caroline would clutch her pearls and do her best to get rid of me quietly to avoid a scandal.

  “You can’t handle what? What’s changed overnight?” His voice was going hard, angry, but I could hear the pain lacing it. His lips pressed into a firm line, but his eyes were pleading, hurt—just like they were when his father made him feel like a disappointment.

  My heart squeezed in my chest. I’d put that look on his face.

  I was so damn angry—mostly at myself for letting this happen. But there was no one else around to let it out on. “You don’t know me,” I snapped. “Not really. What did you think would happen? You stick it inside me a few times, and I swoon, learn to speak when I’m spoken to as we ride off into the sunset? That’s not me, Oren.”

  “No shit. It’s not me either. Look, I know we made this agreement as more of a business deal, but we’re still getting married. Would it be so fucking bad if we happened to also like each other, maybe even fell in lo—”

  “No! You don’t know what you’re saying. I can’t do this.”

  “Can’t do what?” he barked. As I wrenched the door open and fled, he raised his voice for the first time. “Alexandria! Can’t do what?”

  He was worried about his precious inheritance. It would always come back to that. How could I compete? I didn’t belong here.

  Oren’s door slammed. I slammed
mine too, just for good measure. The door slamming and yelling was not a good idea. Someone would notice; it would raise eyebrows. Not that it mattered anymore.

  Fuck the money. Fuck proving to anyone I could do this. Fuck the fact that I only had to stick it out for another few days. I was done. I wanted my own life back.

  Except this wasn’t just about me.

  I growled and pulled my hair as I paced the room. It was all well and good for me to quit, but I couldn’t ruin Alex’s life in the process. She still had to come here and live it.

  I didn’t know what to do, couldn’t think straight. The walls of the airy room felt like they were closing in, suffocating me in a bedroom bigger than my entire apartment.

  I went to the toilet, brushed my teeth, and put on a white T-shirt and the only pair of jeans Alex had packed. Pulling my hair up into a ponytail, I grabbed my cigarettes and rushed down the stairs.

  At the bottom I came face-to-face with George.

  “Whoa. What’s the rush?” He had a smile on his face, but it fell as soon as he saw me.

  “Not now, George,” I snapped at him and kept walking. I heard him coming after me, but Preston appeared at the other end of the hallway, hands in his pockets, and George made himself scarce.

  “Alexandria.” Preston grinned and sped up to catch me. “I’ve got most of the day free. I was wondering if you wanted to catch up.” He nearly reached me, but I kept going, heading for the kitchen at the back of the house.

  “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Are you OK?”

  “I’m fine.” I hoped I didn’t sound terse, but I wasn’t slowing down either. “Just need some fresh air.”

  He frowned as I passed him, but his steps faltered, and he didn’t follow me into the kitchen.

  Caroline stood next to the island, her worried gaze fixed on me.

  “Alex? What’s going on, dear?” She must’ve heard me brush Preston off.

  “I just . . . I can’t . . .” Why was I even attempting to explain anything to her? How could she possibly understand? There was just something inherently friendly and warm about Caroline that made me want to sit down with a cup of tea and pour my heart out. But that was never going to happen. “I just need some space. I need to be alone.”