Page 69 of Laila Manning
It felt like I was back in that room.
Tied down.
And gagged.
As a monster mutilated my body because of this man standing in front of me.
Ruined me because of this man. Stole my future because of this man.
His inky black hair, styled to perfection, seemed poised to take flight like a toupee in a gale. His fake-tanned skin and his ultra-bleached teeth contradicted each other as he smiled down at me. “You alright darling, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He said with that sadistic humor he loved to use when he was torturing young girls. But as I fought the urge to throw up on his shoes, and forced myself to focus on escaping his clutches, I realized he didn’t know who I was. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” He asked, reaching out to touch me again, and even though I tried, I couldn’t control the flinch as I evaded his touch.
“Don’t touch me.” I snarled, feeling a rage inside of me like I’d never felt before. All my adult life, I had experienced such tumultuous emotions that most days felt like they controlled me more than I controlled them.
Fear.
Pain.
Disgust.
Anguish.
Pain.
Grief.
Sorrow.
Pain.
But right now, facing off with the man who single-handedly destroyed my very body and soul—all I felt was rage. Blinding rage that left me imagining what it would feel like to stab something sharp into the fleshy part of his neck, severing the arteries and veins necessary for blood flow to and from his brain, and then watch him bleed out at my feet.
Would I feel justice?
More grief?
Perhaps pain?
“Whoa now.” He smiled and held his hands up theatrically as a man passing by heard my snarl and looked on curiously. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t fall, that’s all.”
“Move out of my way.” I demanded, realizing he was blocking my path back to the bar where I at least would be in the glowing lights of the party again, and not tucked into a dark corner like I was.
I watched him closely as the entertainer’s smile slid off his face and a more serious look clouded his eyes. “You look familiar.” he said, squinting and tilting his head like he was trying to see me clearer. “Have we met before?”
“Ah, there you are.” A female voice cut through the buzz of the crowd as Elora pushed past the man who was blocking my path. “I’ve been looking for you.” She said pointedly to me as she slid her arm through mine and stood at my side. “Senator Lupold.” She addressed the monster in front of me. “Harassing one of my guests.Again. Why am I not surprised?” Elora didn’t mince words, nor did she cover the disdain in her voice as she addressed him.
I reveled in her strength and power, witnessing the Queen in her element for the first time since meeting her.
“Elora.” The monster replied, adjusting his jacket as he stood up to his full height, like he hadn’t just been cornering me in the dark.
“Youmay call me Mrs. Lawson.” She whipped her retort back at him, reminding him who and where he was. “I don’t care for your bought title, but here,” She glared openly at him, “Amongstmypeople, you will respect mine.”
I flicked a glance at the man who had haunted my dreams for years as Elora knocked him down a dozen pegs of manhood and power with words alone, in awe of her.
“My apologies,” He replied, but I could feel the barely restrained anger in his words, “Mrs. Lawson. I was simply chatting with your friend here—” He paused, tipping his head and waiting for one of us to give him my name, which was obviously sought after.
“No, you were harassing her.” Elora snapped, “And make no mistake, Charles,” She spit out his name like it was disgusting, “There are no less than a dozen men in this room watching you right this second, ready and very,very fucking eagerto make a worthless, greedy, pathetic man like you disappear.” She stood up even taller, “For good.”
His face reddened, and his jaw clenched as he looked from her to me and then out over the crowd, like he was looking for proof of her threat. “I’ve always been in good standing with Ryker,” He challenged, as though that would give him any credit in the conversation, “You simply don’t know what your—”
