Page 65 of A Certain Appeal
My rage at the uninvited contact is a hot, liquid thing. Adrenaline surges through me, fight and flight battling for supremacy, and my body seizes. The guy oozes entitlement, watching me as his hand slides to the back of my thigh.
Bile rises in my throat. He angles his hand inward, higher...
I lean down with a saccharine smile. The guy is sweating bullets, his pupils blasted, and there’s a tiny fragment of white powder in his right nostril. His smugness increases with my proximity: satisfaction at successful seduction via grope.
I bat my lashes. “I can make it look like an accident.”
It takes a moment for my words to register, honey sweet and low as they are. His eyes dart to mine, hand halting at the point where my thigh meets my ass. My smile drips with venom as I look pointedly past him, down the steep stairwell to the dim landing below. My groper follows my gaze. Ginn and Tonic have stepped aside, gesturing down the void with showgirl flair; I forgot they were here.
The man wheels back to me, eyes wide. I’m shaking, my bright façade gone. “This may be a foreign concept for you, but in this room,you don’t touch without permission. So get your fucking handoff my leg.” I bite out the last three words.
He looks to where his fingers rest against my thigh and jerks his hand back, like he’s come in contact with an open flame. His Adam’s apple bobs.
I’m spared further interaction as Ming descends the stairs in a flurry of feathers. I head to the stage, maneuvering through the crowd without sparing a look behind me. Rage gives way to a sick pitch in my stomach. The ghost of the creep’s hand clings to my hamstring, the invasion like a fresh wound. Tears sting my eyes.Bastard. Goddamn bastard.
I retrieve Ming’s costume on autopilot, Johnny’s commentary muted by the blood rushing in my ears. I’m off the stage before I remember to loosen the silks for the Twins’ aerial set and double back, fumbling with the fabric with unsteady hands while trying to keep Ming’s gown from sliding from the crook of my elbow. When I finish, I hightail it to the stairs, registering that the asshole is gone while narrowly missing Ginn on the top step. I blurt an apology. Tonic calls after me in a too-soft voice, but I don’t look back.
In the dressing room, Ming sits in the corner, cooling off with one of the oversized feathered fans from the number she’ll do later. Jane’s doing vocal exercises in the supply closet. I fight a sob of relief. He’d be able to tell something is wrong and I can’t talk about this now.
I make short work of hanging Ming’s costume. The shimmy belt rattles in my quaking hands as I drape it over the hanger beside the bra and gloves.
“Thank you, Kitten,” Ming calls from her corner. I risk a glance. Her eyes are closed, fan resting on her chest.
Jane’s singing stops. The doorknob to the supply closet rattles, and I bolt for the hall, praying that one of the bathrooms is open. A minute to myself. Just a minute...
At the landing, there’s no line, though both rooms are occupied. I consider the coat check, but one of the restroom doors swings open. I keep my eyes averted when a woman steps out, holding the door open for me. Thanking her, I dart in, locking the door behind me.
I grip the rim of the sink. My next breath is a ragged gasp. I’m shaking. I still feel him on me.
I straighten and clench my hands into fists, pulling them into my chest. It was nothing. He barely touched me. It could have been so much worse. And I froze. I didn’t even defend myself. I was a bystander to my own groping. How? How did I just stand there and take it?
Only until I didn’t.I focus on that: my threat, not the delay. But what if he’d done more?
I cover my mouth to stifle a sob, and the tacky feeling of my lipstick has me yanking my hand away. Crimson smears run along my palm. The tears I’ve been fighting spill over, and anxiety tightens across my skin. No, no, no, I can’t fall apart. I have to clean up after the Twins. There’s still the back half of the show...
I fumble for some toilet paper, wiping away the rest of the wrecked lipstick before blotting at the tears tracking down my cheeks. Great. Just perfect. It’s a small mercy when I check the mirror and my eye makeup is still intact.God bless waterproof mascara.
Here. This happened here, at Meryton.MyMeryton. It’s profane.
I conjure the final look on his face, try to savor the fear in his eyes, but all I can come up with is the smug smile.
What if he comes looking for me?
The thought cuts off my breathing in a whimper. A new bolt ofadrenaline shoots through me.No, there’s no way...I try to rationalize. Jane and Ming are just a shout away and there’s a club full of people upstairs.
I grip the doorknob, turning it slowly. The button of the lock clicks out against my palm. I brave a step out and am greeted by a tiaraed bride-to-be who moves forward in relief. She lurches past, barely letting me step aside before she shuts the door behind her.
I massage my temples. Two years. Two years and no one’s been grabby before...
“Bennet?”
My stomach falls.Darcy.I completely forgot about WilliamgoddamnDarcy.
I remember the look he had earlier, spotting the guy about to feel me up. Brilliant. He probably caught the whole thing. Shame floods my cheeks, and I grit my teeth. Tonight just keeps getting better.
I leash the ugly feelings and look to where I heard his voice. He stands on the far side of the room, near the coat check. I toss up a hand. “Congratulations, Darcy. You’re now thesecond-to-last person I could possibly want to see right now.”
“He’s gone,” he says tightly. “I told Michael. He got the bouncer and sent the guy packing.”
