Sensing something was off, I shot Oliver a serious look. "Mr. Hatcher, what's going on here?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he poured me another drink, lips curled in a cold sneer. "Last time our dinner had to be cut short because you weren't feeling well, Miss Reynolds. Now that we're working on this joint project, I don't feel comfortable letting someone else handle it. I came here tonight to talk business with you-surely you won't leave me hanging, right?"
Oliver chuckled obsequiously on the side, wringing his hands. "Oh no, Mr. Sullivan, we're the lucky ones. It's a privilege to work with someone like you."
Graham clearly enjoyed the flattery.
I stayed silent, he cut me a glance. Oliver immediately grabbed a bottle of alcohol and handed it to me. "Natalie, come on. Toast Mr. Sullivan, make it up to him."
I shot him a glare-what a disgusting jerk. Oliver leaned close and hissed in my ear, "If you make Mr. Sullivan happy tonight, there'll be rewards in it for you. But if you pull any stunts... Southveil's not that big-you sure you wanna risk your career over this?"
Gritting my teeth, I took the bottle and got up to pour Sullivan a drink. But just as I turned back, he suddenly grabbed my wrist. I struggled hard, spilling wine all over the table, but he just wouldn't let go.
Then a sound came from the door-someone pushed it open. Oliver flashed a quick grin at Sullivan. "Gotta take a call, I'll be right back," and exited.
I was livid. Sullivan abruptly let go, and I stumbled back, red wine drenching my white blouse. The fabric clung to me, clearly showing my undergarments. Sullivan let out a perverse laugh and gulped down another glass.
I watched him down his drink like water and quickly formed a plan. Settling back into my seat, I covered my chest with one hand and poured him more wine with the other. "Mr. Sullivan, last time was my bad. Please don't take it personally. Let's not let this mess up our companies' partnership."
But Graham wasn't fooled. His bloated hands knocked the glass aside, and he leaned in, grabbing my face. The stench of alcohol on his breath made me gag, but I forced myself to stay still. If he really did anything to me tonight, I'd rather be dead than live with it.
"Let me go..."
He bellowed out a laugh, and then I heard him unbuckling his pants. Terrified, I spun to run, but he yanked me back by the ankle and pinned me under his weight. "You little bitch, I've forked over thirty grand to your adopted mom. Think I'll let you off easy again?"
He grabbed my blouse and started tearing. Most of my chest was exposed, the cold air stinging against my skin. In the chaos, my hand found the wine bottle that had fallen. Without a second thought, I raised it and smashed it hard against the back of his head.
"Ahhh!"
He screamed and clutched his skull, staggering off me. I scrambled backward across the floor, made a dash for the door, threw it open, and ran out. Behind me, Graham cursed as he stumbled after me.
Just then, someone appeared in the hallway. Desperate, I flung off Graham's hand and ran like my life depended on it, latching onto the man with wild eyes. "Please... please help me!"
Graham came charging over and tried to drag me back. "You slut! Think you can run? I'm not letting you get away this time!"
I shut my eyes in despair, thinking it was all over-when a gust of wind brushed past my ear out of nowhere, followed by Graham's painful grunt. The next second, I was yanked into an uncomfortably cold embrace.
I opened my eyes just in time to see Graham sprawled on the ground, unable to get up. Then I looked up and met a pair of icy, sharp eyes.
Theodore. Again.
His voice came out low and threatening, and his gaze briefly swept across my exposed skin before narrowing even more. His stare was like ice needles pricking my scalp.
Graham pushed himself up with a hand, wiping the blood off his lip with the other. "Who the heck are you, kid? Got a death wish messing with my business?"
Theodore stepped forward and placed himself between us. His eyes stayed locked on Graham. "Mr. Sullivan."
Graham's face froze the moment he finally got a good look at him. He was stunned. Then his eyes flicked back to me, and he scowled like he'd swallowed a lemon whole. "Natalie, not bad. You really know how to pick 'em. Fine, I'll let it go this once. But don't think this is the end of it."
He shot me a death glare and stormed off, one hand over his head.
I clenched my fists. Vivian, you better be ready. I'm coming for you after tonight.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to pull myself together, turned, and was about to leave when someone grabbed my wrist from behind. Theodore had stepped closer, crowding into my space until my back hit the sliding door behind me. There was nowhere to run.
"Use me and just walk away like nothing happened?"
"Must be nice, huh? Even dare to play me. Done using me, now tossing me aside?"
I kept my eyes lowered, voice shaky. "That's not it."
"Not it?" His laugh was cold and sharp. He didn't look away for even a second. When I ducked my head lower, he suddenly grabbed my chin with his icy fingers and forced me to look at him.
"Girls like you? I don't give a damn about. So don't push your luck. You won't like where that leads."
His words cut way deeper than whatever Graham had planned. It was like someone stuck a needle right into my heart-sharp, sudden, and brutal.
I bit down hard just to keep from crying, but my voice caught in my throat.
Then his gaze flicked, and he noticed my hands-pressed against the door under his grip. His eyes hesitated when he saw the blood.
I'd scraped myself on some shards of glass trying to get away earlier. Cuts stung across my palms and wrists. Blood had started to trickle again, dark against my skin.
We stared at each other-me, biting back tears; him, stunned speechless. The room held its breath with us. But I knew I couldn't hold out much longer.
A quiet sob escaped me.
Theodore froze, eyes locked on mine. Then, after a long pause, he let go of my wrists, peeled off his suit jacket, and tossed it at me without a word. He glared at me one last time before turning on his heel and stalking off down the hallway.
Only when his back vanished around the corner did my knees finally give. I slumped to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.
After a while, when the crying dulled into numbness, I stared at the jacket he'd thrown. I had nothing else, so I reluctantly slipped it on and dragged myself out of the restaurant, eyes swollen, clothes messed up, head full of chaos.
I opted for the bus. In this state, I didn't want to risk it with a cab. My reflection in the window-red eyes, crumpled clothes-turned heads even at the back of the bus. A few older ladies kept glancing my way, whispering with judgment written all over their faces.
But I'd take gossip over possibly ending up in some creepy driver's trunk any day.
