Page 31 of Velvet Chains
It slams shut behind me with a satisfying bang, leaving me alone in the quiet hallway.
For a moment, I just stand there, breathing hard, trying to get my emotions under control.
C’mon, Laur, don’t let this bitch who doesn’t know anything about youmess with you like this. Seriously.
Suddenly desperate for some air, some place to clear my head, I strike out down the hallway, my heels echoing loudly on the marble floors.
Breathe.
The sound of the party fades behind me as I walk, replaced by blessed, blissful silence.
But just as I’m about to round the corner, a door to my left flies open. Before I can react, a hand shoots out, grabbing my arm in a vice-like grip and yanking me into the dark room beyond.
I open my mouth to scream, but another hand clamps down over my lips, stifling the sound. Panic claws at my throat as I struggle against my attacker, my heart pounding in my ears.
“Shhh,” a deep, familiar voice breathes against my ear. “It’s just me.”
Chapter 13
Laura
WHAT. THE. Fuck!
I try to breathe through the hands that are muffling my mouth, my heart pounding against my ribcage like a caged bird desperate for escape. The room is small, dark, and musty, the air thick with the scent of cleaning chemicals and stale air.
As my eyes adjust to the gloom, I make out shelves lined with supplies, a mop propped in the corner—a maintenance closet. But it’s the figure looming over me that sends a fresh wave of panic coursing through my veins.
David.
The name echoes in my mind, a taunting reminder of the man who shattered my heart and left me drowning in a sea of debt and betrayal.
“Mmm!! Mmm!!” I try to shout at him through his hand, my voice muffled and strangled.
“Shhh… Laur, it’s me,” he whispers urgently, his face so close I can count the pores. He reeks of stale cigarettes and the kind of alcohol you’d buy with loose change. In the dim light sneaking under the door, I catch the wild look in his eyes, the sweat beads gathering on his forehead like unwanted guests.
“I need to ask you something.”
Ask me something?
The words ricochet in my skull, disbelief and fury warring for dominance.
After what he did to me? After the lies, the cheating, the cowardice?
I writhe in his grip, trying to twist away, but he only tightens his hold, his fingers digging painfully into my skin. He’s wearing a black chef’s uniform, the starched fabric stretching across his broad shoulders.
“Please, baby, can you keep it down?” he hisses, his breath hot against my ear.
Don’t you fucking “baby” me!
I want to scream, but his hand is still clamped over my mouth.
I fix him with a glare that could melt steel, pouring every ounce of fury and betrayal into my eyes. If looks could kill, he’d be a smoldering pile of ash on the floor.
He looks different from the last time I saw him—harder, more haggard.
“Laur, please,” he begs, his voice cracking. “I’m in trouble. I need your help.”
A harsh, mirthless laugh bubbles up my throat, escaping my lips in a muffled snort.
