Page 5

I looked right to left, trying to find an exit. They all seemed so far away, leaving me anxious like a feral animal that was cornered. He was on me before I could slip away.

“Where the hell have you been all night?” Dylan asked. His tone was that of a jealous boyfriend.

“It's none of your business. I don't owe you any type of explanation for anything.”

“You've been avoiding me.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Dylan?”

“I saw you earlier. You had plenty of time to go around entertaining others. Why don't you make some time for me now.” Right at that moment, a waiter perused by. Dylan snatched two glasses of wine, drinking them one after the other as if he were at a frat party and all his pompous football buddies were chanting for him to chug.

“Dylan, you're drunk. Maybe you should have some water instead.”

“Maybe you should mind your own fucking business.” His words were mumbled, rolling out on a lazy tongue.

“I'm not doing this. You don't make sense. I'm leaving.” I tried to step around him, but he held his arm up to block me. “Dylan, let me by,” I commanded as my eyes met his.

Dylan's eyes veered, stilling on mine. “I saw you earlier at the bar flirting with that guy. Am I not good enough for you? Do you think you're so much better than me that I don't deserve the time of day? You have no idea how good I can make you feel if you just let me.”

“You're married and more than twice my age. So, the answer is yes. You're absolutely not good enough for me, and you don't deserve one more second of my time. Now, if you'll excuse me—” I was saying as I tried to move around Dylan again, but he refused to let me pass.

“Let me get this straight. You have no problem whoring around with a stranger, but I'm somehow beneath you? Do you really think you're better than me? Because you're not. You're just a pussy that needs to be tamed.”

“Dylan, stop,” I said sternly. “I'm not doing this.” I made another attempt to walk away, but he grabbed my wrist and yanked me close. “Let me go,” I demanded.

“Not yet,” he snapped quietly.

Dylan pulled me to a doorway and shoved it open. It led to another empty banquet hall. The lights were low, barely bright enough to cast shadows on the far wall. He squeezed my wrist harder. His fingers burned against my skin as he dug in hard.

“I see you for who you are. You're a goddamn slut. You were ready to spread your fucking legs for that guy. But I've got something better to give you.” Dylan yanked me in so our chests were touching.

“Stop. Let me go, Dylan,” I growled. “I don't wantanythingto do with you. And I never will. So you might as well get the thought out of your fucking head.”

“But you'll fuck anyone else in a suit. Is that what you're saying?” He leaned in, placed his lips against my ear, and whispered. “I always knew you were a trashy little whore. You're a stain on this empire, just like your mother.”

Tears bubbled up over my eyes as my lip began to tremble with sadness and rage. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” I asked through clenched teeth.

“Oh, Poppy, you naive little twit. You really are just like your mother. Your mother was a crazy fucking lunatic. She made your father look bad. She made all of us look bad. Your father couldn't control her, and it showed. By the attitude you have, it looks like your father might not be able to control you either.”

“Don't talk about my mother. It wasn't her fault. She couldn't help it. She was sick. She—” It dawned on me that I didn't have to explain shit to him. He was nothing to me. Dylan wasn't in charge of a damn thing. He had no control over my life. No power over me at all. “You know what? Fuck you, Dylan.”

“It bothers you when you have to hear the truth, doesn't it? You still want to protect her. You're still making excuses for her.”

“My mother wasn't in the right frame of mind. She made mistakes. She—”

“Poppy, your mother belonged in a fucking mental institution. She never belonged with us.”

“Fuck you.”

“Alright,” Dylan said as he smiled. “Your wish is my command.” He forcefully wrapped his arm around my waist, keeping me in place.

His breath stank of wine and caviar with the faint odor of Iberico ham. I twisted my face as he tried to kiss me. “Get off me!” I yelled. I desperately hoped someone else would hear me, but no one did. The music was too loud, the people were too involved with each other, and the waiters were too busy. I was like a child screaming for help from inside a closed refrigerator.

“No, I don't think so. I want what I want. And I get what I want.” Dylan's hand swept over my thigh, and his fingers began to pull up my dress. He clutched me so tightly that I could barely breathe.

“Don't do this. You don't want to be this man.”

“I'm already this man, Poppy. So don't bother begging me to stop. It won't work.” Dylan gripped the center of my dress and ripped it. There was no resistance from the threads. The thin fabric split easily up the side.