Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

I lifted my highball glass and sipped at my drink; the fruity taste burst on my tongue. “I’m wondering at the wisdom of the multi-colored striped carpet. I mean, this is a bar—drinks must get spilled all the time. It would make more sense to have wooden flooring.”

Hanna’s nose wrinkled. “You think about the weirdest stuff when you’re drinking.”

“No, I don’t.”

“No? Just minutes ago, you ‘pondered’ whether people would be better adjusted adults if they didn’t watch Disney movies as kids.”

“Come on, those movies are full of tragedy and sorrow. Bambi’s mom died. Simba watched his father be murdered. Old Yeller was shot. An entire village was decimated in Mulan. Dumbo’s mom was locked up for trying to protect her son. Tod’s adopted mom abandoned him in the woods—okay, he was a fox, but there were hunters.”

“That scene was sad. But it was My Girl that destroyed my childhood. I mean, Vada’s best friend died after being stung by bees! I was terrified of them for months after that.”

“God, that movie was traumatic. The part where little Thomas is in the coffin and Vada loses it and starts balling her eyes out … it all left a scar on me for sure.”

Mouthing the lyrics to the song playing, I glanced around the upscale bar. It was trendy with its red, gold, and black color scheme. It wasn’t crowded, but it was busy. Patrons drank, talked, laughed, and even sang along to the music.

As I’d arranged the previous day, I’d come here straight from work with Hanna and some of our coworkers. Since I’d forgotten to tell Sam and Dane about it, I’d earlier rattled off a quick text message to the driver, informing him that I’d be taking a cab home tonight. I’d also texted Dane—who was attending another late dinner meeting—to say that I wouldn’t be back at his house until late. He hadn’t replied until half an hour ago, and that had only been to ask what bar I was at—no “have a good time” or anything like that.

Hanna took my hand and admired my rings. “I just love these. I don’t know why you won’t let me try them on. I’ll give them straight back.”

“You don’t think Dane would freak?”

“He’d never know.”

“We’re surrounded by coworkers who’d totally tell him.”

Her shoulders lowered. “Yeah, you’re right.” She leaned closer and said, “Sorry that some of them are being weird toward you—I didn’t expect that. They don’t act that way at work.”

They did; Hanna just hadn’t been around to see it. “But now they’re not at o-Verve and there’s no Dane around to fire them, so they feel comfortable being rude.”

The two women who usually gave me attitude at work, Rachel and Lianne, were now leaning into each other and whispering while staring at me. They also let out the occasional snicker. Ugh. Whatever.

The guys were worse. A few of them kept making passive-aggressive remarks and jokey comments that weren’t actually funny. They seemed to find themselves hilarious, though. Well, at least someone was laughing. The worst offenders had gone to the bar to flirt with some random strangers, and I sure hoped they stayed there.

Hanna adjusted her cleavage. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the ones being rude are either guys you turned down or women that Dane turned down. They’re just bitter. And jealous. And having an ego-related crisis because they were rejected in favor of someone else.”

“Hmm-mmm.” I shifted slightly, making the red leather cushion beneath me squeak a little. The sofa was long and stylish, much like many of the others that lined the walls of the bar. Not comfier than the furniture at Dane’s place, though. Speaking of which … “When are you finally going to get over your aversion to my house? Every time Ashley and I try and plan for the three of us to have a girls’ night there, you put us off.”

“I don’t have an aversion to your house. I’ve told you, it would just feel weird to hang out in my boss’s home.”

“It’s my home, too.” I placed my glass on the square napkin beside the lemon wedge I’d fished out of the drink. “And it’s not like you’ll have to hang with him. He’ll make himself scarce to give us privacy.”

“I know, but … I would just find it super hard to relax there. It’s Dane’s haven. He doesn’t even like having people in his office much. I’d feel out of place. Like I shouldn’t be there. Also, I’m not really in a rush to step into the home of a psych—”

“And we’re done.”

Hanna gave a little huff. “Look, if you don’t want to see the dark side of him, that’s fine. But blinding yourself to it won’t change that it’s there.”

“People can have a dark side without also having asocial personality disorder. Now stop trying to change the subject and tell me you’re going to get over your issues to enjoy a night in with me and Ashley.”

Just then, the two obnoxious o-Verve guys who’d disappeared to the bar returned to our group. One of them, Jeff, stumbled backwards, almost knocking into a server who held a tray of colorful drinks above her head.

Laughing at himself, Jeff slumped into the chair opposite me. His eyes hardened when they met mine. “Ah, Vienna, Vienna, Vienna. You know, I really didn’t take you for a gold-digger.”

Wow, he’d really gone there. I mean, he’d been hinting at it all evening in a jokey way, but I hadn’t thought he’d actually come right out and say it.

Hanna flapped her hand in his direction. “Go away, Jeff. You’re an ugly drunk.”

He frowned. “I’m not drunk. I’m just being blunt.” He pointed his beer bottle at me. “I remember I asked you out years ago. You told me you never mix business with pleasure. I should have known you’d break that rule for a guy if he had a big enough bank balance.”

I cocked my head. “Is that what you tell yourself? Does it make you feel better to think I broke my rule for Dane purely because he’s rich, not because I thought he was worth breaking it but didn’t believe the same of you?”

Jeff’s face reddened. “I’m only saying what everyone else in the company is thinking.”

Hanna sat up straight. “I’m not thinking it.”

“Neither am I,” said one of the other guys.

“Nor me,” another man piped up.

Smirking, Jeff dragged his chair closer to the table and leaned toward me. “Don’t listen to them, Vienna. They talk smack about you when you’re not there. All the teams do.”

“If that was the case, it would say everything about them and absolutely nothing about me,” I said.

The guy beside Jeff—who’d made just as many sly remarks as him—put a hand on Jeff’s shoulder and said, “Pipe down. This isn’t worth losing your job over.”

Jeff shrugged off his friend’s hand and snorted. “Dane’s not going to fire me. He was talking about promoting me.”

“And a few words from her could make you miss out on that promotion,” his friend persisted.

Jeff made a dismissive sound. “Like she has any sway over him.” He sliced his gaze back to me. “How’d you get him to propose anyway? Pretend to be pregnant?”

I sighed. “Seriously, if being an asshole burned calories, you’d be fucking anorexic. Now maybe we could talk about something other than me and Dane. Like how Hanna’s birthday went yesterday.”

“Or maybe we could get you to admit that you only want Davenport for his money,” said Jeff.

I drained the last of my drink. “You know, your parents should have tossed you over a cliff and just kept the stork.”

“Here, fucking here,” muttered Hanna.

Jeff flashed me an ugly smirk. “You haven’t once denied you want him for his money.”

“What would be the point?” I asked, idly twirling my glass. “You’ll believe whatever your itty, bitty ego—which, let’s face it, is the equivalent of a fragile, sensitive, hormonal teenager—needs you to believe. Who am I to mess with that?”

“Who indeed,” said Hanna, all haughty. “She just wasn’t into you, Jeff. Deal with it and stop being a dick.”

“Women are such bitches,” he sniped.

Every female at the table bristled at the generalization. Jeff did not realize it, but he’d united us all that easily.

Hanna lifted her hand. “Hang on a sec. You’re the one acting like an ass, but women are in the wrong purely because they called you on it?”

I sighed. “Ever notice how women always get the blame for men being dicks? Their mom didn’t hug them enough, the girls at school made fun of them, their adult ex-girlfriends jilted them, their ex-wives used to nag at them. And if you reject a guy, it can’t possibly mean you simply don’t like him—no, it means you’re stuck up or a frigid bitch or something.”

Rachel nodded. “I’ve noticed that. It’s pretty ridiculous.”

“I know,” agreed Hanna. “You fear turning a guy down because it’s possible he’ll get ugly and make a scene.”

“I get that it’s hard for men to make a move,” began Lianne, “they have to suck in their insecurities and put themselves out there; that can’t be easy. But it doesn’t make us bitches if we politely say no.”

“Yup,” I agreed. “Don’t get me wrong, not all men do it. Some will take it with grace. But those that don’t? They ruin the dating scene for everyone else.”

Jeff thumped his bottle of beer down on the table. “How did we go from discussing Vienna whoring herself to men being assholes?”

I clenched my fists. “Jeff, stop.”

“Stop what? Speaking the truth?”

“Seriously, Jeff, just shut the fuck up.”

“Why? You can’t handle being called out for what you are?”

“You really need to stop talking.”

“And you need to stop being a gold-digger, sweetheart. But life doesn’t always work out the way it should.”

Everyone in our group fell quiet. Which should have been a dead giveaway that something was wrong. But Jeff just kept smirking at me, either too drunk or too stupid to pick up on anything else.

I’d warned him to shut up for a very good reason—I’d noticed a certain someone heading to our table. And now that certain someone stood behind Jeff.

Totally done with this evening, I smiled at the newcomer. “Hey, Dane.”

Jeff froze. I thought he’d laugh and accuse me of trying to call his bluff, but as his gaze swept over the people sitting either side of me—all of whom were no doubt staring at their boss—the color drained from his face.

He twisted in his seat and blinked up at Dane. That easily, the idiot’s level of machoism bottomed out in a rush. Understandable. Dane stood unnaturally still, tension coiled in every muscle … making me think of a viper poised to strike. His bold, unblinking stare was wholly focused on Jeff, who was hopefully coming to the self-realization that he was one seriously stupid prick.

“Dane. I, um …” Jeff rose and offered him the chair. “Sit down. I didn’t know you were coming. Can I buy you a drink?”

Taller by at least a foot and a half, Dane stared him down. There was a lethal glint in the depths of those dark eyes that made my scalp prickle. “I couldn’t help but hear you brand my wife a gold-digger,” he said, his voice steady and dripping with caution. “Why would you go and do a thing like that, Jeff?”

Jeff’s mouth bopped open and closed. “It was just banter. I was … you know … just joking.”

“Yeah? I didn’t find it funny. More importantly, neither did she.”

Jeff forced an easy smile. “I was fooling around, Dane. Really. It was just supposed to be a bit of harmless banter. Right, Vienna?”

“Don’t look at her,” Dane said to him. “Look at me.”

Jeff’s gaze flew back to his. “Dane, man, it was just—”

“A joke, banter—yeah, I heard you. The thing is … I know you’re lying to me. But I don’t think you truly believe my Vienna’s a gold-digger. You just wanted to hurt her. Why would that be, Jeff? Were you one of the ones who singled her out when she first came to work for me? One of the ones who crashed and burned?”

“I wasn’t trying to hurt her—”

“You’re still lying to me.” Dane tipped his chin toward the exit. “Why don’t you come outside with me, Jeff?”

Uh-oh. I gripped the table, ready to push to my feet if necessary. “Dane.”

Jeff shook his head. “I’m not going to fight with my boss.”

“I’m not your boss anymore,” Dane told him. “As of two minutes ago, you no longer work for me. Now get outside.”

I stood. “Dane, he’s not worth it.”

“No, he’s not. But you are.”

Jeff stood his ground, the dumb bastard. “Why go outside? Why not just take care of this in here?” He cast a quick glance at our group, and I realized he expected one of them to intervene and stop the fight before it could start. But no one said a word or made a single move, as if striving to remain off Dane’s radar.

“Because if we do it in here, I’ll have to make sure it’s over with quickly—the management will overlook a sucker-punch, but it doesn’t like brawls.” Dane took a fluid step toward him, so tightly controlled yet so alive with menace. “Outside.”

“Nah,” said Jeff. “I say we just—”

Dane slammed his fist into the prick’s jaw like a fucking pro. Jeff’s head snapped to the side with the force of the blow, and his eyes went out of focus. Lights out. Jeff dropped to the carpet, almost knocking down his chair. It all happened so damn fast … and I wasn’t as progressive as I’d like to believe, apparently, because all that strength and power affected me on a very primal, viciously sexual level.

God, I needed help.

I rounded the table and touched Dane’s arm. “We should go.” The spectacle hadn’t gone unnoticed, and I didn’t fancy watching my fake husband get arrested. “Hanna, thanks for inviting me.” I promised to call her soon and then exited the bar with Dane.

Outside, I took a long breath. I didn’t know who I was angrier with—Jeff for being a sack of shit, Dane for coming here to pick me up like it was past my curfew, or myself for finding that little display of violence something of a turn-on.

“Well that was fucking fun.” I sighed. “Why did you come here?”

“It would have looked rather strange if I hadn’t, since I’m a man who wouldn’t like even the thought of my wife sitting in a bar without me right beside her. You should have called me the second things got ugly in there.”

“I was handling it.”

“You shouldn’t have to. Did anyone else in there try some ‘banter’ with you?”

Knowing a bunch of people would lose their jobs if I told him what happened, I instead replied, “No.”

Dane put his face close to mine. “I want their names.”

“Nobody said—”

“Don’t lie to me, Vienna. I want every name, and I want to know everything they said. You can tell me about it in the car.” Dane took my hand and began to lead me across the wide road. “Is this going to become a thing now?”

I frowned. “What?”

“You not coming straight home from work.”

“No more than you returning to o-Verve or attending late dinner meetings has become a thing, I’m sure,” I said primly. As we reached the center of the road, I dropped my purse. “Shit.” I bent down and grabbed it.

Hearing an engine rev up and tires screeching, I looked to see a pair of blinding headlights speeding through a red light while swaying almost drunkenly. The jeep collided with another car, sending it skidding along the road … toward us.

I froze for what felt like endless seconds as an old memory hit me hard. But I snapped out of it when Dane began yanking me toward the curb.

I could hear the car still skidding toward us. I could smell the burn of rubber chafing the ground. It slowed to a halt just as we reached the sidewalk. It was right then that my heel caught on something and I tripped.

Only Dane’s grip on my hand stopped me from falling flat on my face on the sidewalk. Stumbling, I reflexively threw out my free hand to help brace myself, hissing as my palm scraped along the ground.

Dane helped me stand upright and looked me over, his face hard. “You okay?”

My heart pounding, I blinked at him. “I’m fine. You?”

He gave a curt nod.

I looked at the two cars and took in the crumpled metal and ghost-white faces of the passengers that were jerkily sliding out of both vehicles. None looked badly hurt, but one had a vicious cut above their eye.

Dane slid an arm around my waist. “Come on, let’s get you out of here. You sure you’re okay? You’re pale.”

I licked my lips. “Yeah, I’m good. I … I was hit by a car when I was nine and, yeah, the past and present kind of fused for a second, but I’m okay.”

He led me to the car, assured Sam we were both fine, and ushered me onto the rear passenger seat. Sliding in beside me, he took my hand in his, and I flinched. Frowning, he looked at my palm.

“It’s just a graze from where I tried to steady myself when I almost fell.” It stung like a bitch.

I wrapped my arms around my middle, feeling slightly chilled. It was only then I realized I was shaking a little.

Dane’s arm came around me, warm and strong. He gently drew me to him and tucked me into his side. “Settle,” he said, smoothing his hand up and down my arm. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“I know, it’s just the adrenaline. You’ll be all right.”

I shamelessly burrowed into him. “At least all the passengers were okay.”

“Hmm. You were hit by a car when you were nine?”

I nodded.

“How badly were you hurt?”

“I had a broken leg, a skull fracture, and some bruises. I didn’t really feel the pain until I got to the hospital. I was in shock.” I could still remember how numb and disconnected I’d felt. Could remember how everything around me had seemed so distant. The driver and bystanders had talked to me gently, but I hadn’t really been able to absorb their words.

“I kept telling the driver—man, the guy was a mess—that I was okay to walk home,” I added. “What’s weird is that it all happened so fast I didn’t get the chance to feel scared. And yet, I had nightmares for months after.”

His arm tightened around me. “I’m pretty sure anyone would have.”

Silence fell between us. I stayed snuggled into Dane, letting his body heat chase away the chill in my bones. At one point, he dug out his cell phone. I rolled my eyes. We’d almost been hit by a car and he was casually answering work emails. Typical.

We soon arrived at the estate. By then, my heartbeat had steadied, and the full-on body shakes had faded to a faint tremor in my hands.

Inside the house, Dane gently guided me into the kitchen and lifted me onto a stool at the island. “Be still.” He examined the smarting graze on my palm. “It’s not deep, and there’s no gravel in it.”

“It doesn’t hurt badly.”

“It might when the adrenaline fully bleeds out of your system.”

“You should ice those knuckles.” They were red and a little swollen from the punch he’d delivered to Jeff’s jaw.

“I’ll do it later. Stay there.”

And then, well, one of the most surreal moments of my life occurred. Dane very gently cleaned, patted dry, and applied a sterile adhesive dressing to the graze. He was careful, thorough, and precise—as professional as any nurse. He also refused to let me help; just instructed me to sit still.

Done, he said, “Antiseptic creams can damage the skin and slow healing, so I didn’t bother putting any on you.”

“How do you know that? How do you know how to treat grazes so well?”

He shrugged. “I Googled it when we were in the car.”

I stared at him. “You … you Googled it?” My heart melted. I thought he’d been working to keep himself occupied. No, he’d been looking up how to treat grazes. “Thank you,” I said, my voice soft and a little raspy.

He inclined his head. “Want a drink?”

In truth, what I wanted was to have him inside me again. This whole night—the knockout punch, the adrenaline rush, the heart-melting—had my body all fired up even as an odd sense of exhaustion began to settle in. But even if he would have been game for that, I knew better than to let anything happen between us again.

“I want you to ice your knuckles. Then I want to sleep.” But, not trusting that he wouldn’t go to bed without first seeing to his hand, I didn’t move until he’d iced it enough to make the swelling go down.

“You sure you don’t want a drink?” he asked, flexing his hand.

“I’m good, but thanks.” I slipped off the stool. “And thanks for hauling me out of the way of the car.” He only inclined his head again, so I gave him a faint smile and padded out of the room. As nights went, this one had been damn bizarre.