Page 25 of Break Me Beautifully

On his surface, Marshall isn't some ghastly monster. Yet he calls himself the Devil, chases me away with threats after luring me close with his sexual attraction. He's not so different than the Phantom.

When the organ music floods the air, I feel it resonate in my skin cells. And when the lights come up at the end of the show, I look down and realize Marshall's hand has been resting right beside mine the whole time. Our knees touched, but he held back from crossing the final inch with his fingers.

I'm watching when he rips it away from me. "Let's go," he says gruffly, climbing from his seat. He sounds tortured, like his throat is constricted.

For a moment longer I sit there as the rest of the audience claps for the performers. Marshall is the only one hurrying from the room.

Threading through the crowd, I apologize as I bump into people in my rush to exit. I'm searching wildly for Marshall. The main lobby is big but it feels like a closet with everyone clamoring through as they chatter about the show. I spot him standing near the exit. His back is to one of the large pillars that span towards the ceiling of the old theater. "Marshall!" I call, pushing aside everyone in my path until I reach him. "Are you okay?"

He blinks at me with his eyebrows furrowing. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I ... you hurried out so fast, I thought ..."

"You thought what?"

That you were upset,I think, second guessing myself now that I see his dry eyes.

"Leona! Hey!" I recognize Chris's voice. He's coming my way with his hand over his head to get my attention. I start to wave back, but Marshall leans forward until he's half blocking me. His eyes are fixed firmly on Chris, judging him, deciding if he's friend or foe.

I tug Marshall's sleeve. "It's fine," I whisper, "That's the guy I got the tickets from."

He ignores me, offering a hand and a tight grin to Chris. "Marshall Klintock, nice to meet you."

Chris returns the smile like he hasn't read any of Marshall's body language. "Hey! I'm Chris. Well, what did you guys think? Did you like the show?"

"I loved it! Thanks for getting us in," I say.

"Not a problem." Rubbing the back of his neck, he shoots a furtive look at Marshall, then back to me. "Uh, I was going to suggest you come check out a club a bunch of the staff are going to after this."

"Thanks," Marshall starts, "But we—"

"We'd love to," I cut him off. Marshall's eyes widen, his scowl making creases in his handsome face.

"Oh, great! It's on 22nd and Broadway, look for the Jackal's Den. See you there!" Chris hesitates another moment before turning around, getting caught in the crowd. The lobby is packed as everyone tries to leave at once.

I start to head towards the exit when Marshall grabs my wrist. "What do you think you're doing?" he asks in a furious whisper.

"Going to the club. Isn't that obvious?"

"We're not going, Leona."

"Fine. I'll go, you do whatever." I yank at my arm but he holds me tight. "Let go, Marshall."

"Why do you want to go to this place? You don't strike me as the clubbing type."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I pull harder and he releases me. "You don't know whattypeof anything I am. I can go alone if you want to go home."

"I'm responsible for anything that happens to you," he insists, frustration making his teeth show.

"Marshall, it's just a club. What do you think will happen?"

He gathers himself like he's realized he's losing his composure. Smoothing his hair, then his jaw, he eyes me thoughtfully. "You really want to go?"

"Yes. I do."

"Fine." He lets out an exasperated breath. "Then I guess we're going clubbing."

"Should we take a taxi?" That was how we'd arrived at the theater.

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