Page 6 of Fallen Heir
Nic began tending to another patron at the opposite end of the bar. When I turned my attention back to the dance floor, I saw Millie, now fully immersed in dancing with the walking Adonis. It didn’t even faze me that she’d be able to capture a man like that. She was one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever known.
The warmth of the bourbon burned my throat as I watched Millie. She was carefree. Something I hadn’t felt in so long.
“What’s that?” a voice beside me said, pulling me out of my thoughts. A man leaned toward me, his voice slightly slurred, gruff, and lingering in a way that made my skin crawl.
I turned to him, caught off guard. “I’m sorry, what?”
“What are you drinking? Doesn’t seem like a girlie drink to me.” He gave me a once-over, his empty glass of what was once a sugary cocktail, specks of sugar still coating the rim, sat in front of him.
“Wellers,” I said, unimpressed.
“Wouldn’t strike you as a bourbon girl. How about a Cosmo, or a Manhattan?” he offered, his words a bit more slurred than they should’ve been.
“I’m good, thanks,” I replied, subtly shifting away from him.
“Come on, let me buy you a drink. You look lonely sitting here all by yourself,” he said, leaning in too close, his breath thick with alcohol. I could tell he’d had one too many, and his presence made my skin crawl.
“Hey, bartender chick!” he shouted, trying to get Nic’s attention. “Two Cosmos,” he said, holding up two fingers in a shaky motion.
“No, thank you,” I said, my nerves starting to tighten as I tried to move his arm back. I didn’t want any more interaction with him. I was already pushing my limits with the noise, the people, and the fear bubbling up inside me.
Nic seemed to get the hint. She didn’t bring him another drink but offered a slight nod in my direction.
Before I could breathe a sigh of relief, the man leaned in, his breath laced with whiskey and arrogance. His hand brushed my thigh—just a little too high. My body stiffened, recoiling on instinct.
“Aw, what’s wrong, sugar?” he drawled, the mockery thick in his tone. “You can touch me, but I can’t touch you?” His voice dropped, dark and menacing.
My entire body went rigid. The breath caught in my throat before I even realized I was holding it. Panic surged up my spine like a jolt of electricity, and I froze, completely paralyzed by the weight of his words.
It started in my chest—a crushing pressure, like someone sitting on me. Then my hands began to tingle, my vision tunneling as the air around me grew thinner, heavier. I couldn't think, couldn't move. My heart wasn’t just racing—it was thundering so hard I thought it might crack my ribs.
I hated how easily I could still be broken. How a voice too close, a hand not invited, could unravel me in seconds. It didn’t matter how strong I’d once been in courtrooms or in strategy meetings—this fear didn’t care about credentials. It only cared about control.
As if on cue, a large figure moved between us, shoving the man back with a force I didn’t see coming. He stumbled, and several bouncers appeared out of nowhere, swarming him like a pack.
The tall figure in front of me growled, “Get the fuck out, Drew. Don’t dare come back again.”
But I could barely process any of it. The world was distorted, voices echoing like I was underwater. My skin was clammy, cold sweat breaking out across my neck and back. I looked down and saw blood on the man’s face and shirt—it blurred into red streaks, the edges of my vision swimming.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
I tried to draw in air, but my lungs refused to cooperate. My knees buckled, and my body trembled uncontrollably. The crowd, the noise, the memory—it was too much.
Then—soft. A steady hand on my arms, grounding me.
“You’re safe,” someone said. The voice was low, calm, like a rope pulling me back from the edge. “I’m here. You’re safe.”
I blinked rapidly, fighting to anchor myself. Slowly, I opened my eyes and saw her—the bartender, Nic. She guided me back into a chair like she’d done this before.
“I’ll get Millicent. Just breathe, okay?”
I clung to her words like a lifeline. Every panic attack I’d ever had, I was alone. No one had ever pulled me out of it. No one even knew about the hell that went on inside my own mind.
“You’re going to be okay. Let me get you some water.”
The words didn’t fix everything, but they steadied me enough to feel the floor again. Enough to remember where I was.
My voice was barely a whisper. “How do you know I’m with Millie?”
