leave your sight,” I tell Lucian low enough so only he can hear me. He nods and instinctively glances back toward the crowd, to Brooks.
The smile on my face is nowhere to be seen as I watch him take her away from me, his wife on his right and Arianna on his left.
The sound of running water floods my ears as I wash my hands, staring aimlessly at the lathered suds. The door to the bathroom opens at the same time as a stall door behind me, and it’s a reminder that I’m not alone. That I should be performing, but I need to get the fuck out of here.
My eyes finally lift to the mirror, my demeanor not at all what it should be. I can’t shake the feeling in the pit of my stomach when I realized she’s not okay.
“Payne.” The corners of my lips twitch as I hear that bastard’s voice. They beg to force my expression into a scowl, but I fight it, concentrating on the fact that a third man is in the room. Stephen Ikabal. He’s a clean-cut man with a penchant for younger women. He’s been married for three decades, and I highly doubt he’s been faithful for any of those years. But then again, she hasn't been either. They both prefer younger company, or so I’ve heard.
“Brooks,” I say and finally tear my eyes away from Stephen in the mirror as he washes his hands in the basin two down from mine.
“How are you?” Brooks cocks an eyebrow, leaning against the granite counter and facing me. Stephen doesn’t react, but he’s a coy old man. I’m sure he’s listening. Everyone’s always listening. Always watching for a weakness. When you’re on top, it’s so easy to fall.
I force a charming smile onto my face as I dry my hands, my eyes on Brooks. He fooled me. I had no idea gambling was his vice. I thought it was sadism. The thought chills my blood and for a moment the charm, dimples and all, slips as I think about my sweetheart. It doesn’t make sense how they fit. It just doesn’t add up.
“Well, and you?” I answer him. Although I’m relaxed and engaging Brooks, I’m highly aware of Stephen's presence as he turns off the faucet and dries his own hands. I need him to get the fuck out of here. I want nothing more than to grab this asshole by the collar and shove him against the wall. I need to know what he’s done to her to put that fear in her eyes.
Brooks nods his head, a smile on his face that looks cocky as his eyes flicker to Stephen as he passes us to get to the door. “Just missing my Arianna a bit.” His voice is chipper as he shrugs his shoulders. Every hair stands on end as Stephen pauses by the trashcan before tossing in the balled-up paper towel.
A chill sweeps across every inch of my skin. I can only imagine what they think of her if he’s been running his mouth. And I fucking hate it.
“I hope you’re getting your money’s worth,” Brooks says beneath his breath, but loud enough for Stephen to hear on his way out. The creak of the door opening and then falling closed easily is the only noise in the room as my hand balls into a fist, the skin tightening around my knuckles to the point where I’m convinced it will split.
I don’t wait for the door to close all the way; I don’t even lock it like I know I should. I can’t hold back the rage any longer.
I hit his jaw first, taking him by surprise. Maybe he expected me to act the part in this environment. After all, we’re not all alone in his office. The soft classical music spills through the bottom of the door as I grip his collar and hit him again with my right fist, knocking his head backward.
This time he expects it at least and he hits me back square on the nose, the pain radiating outward up my cheeks and to the back of my head. It nearly makes me lose my grip on him, but I hold on. White noise rings in my ears as I quickly push him backward.
“She’s not yours anymore,” I sneer into his face as my hands clench, and I slam his back against the tiled wall. I hear a crack, but it does nothing to stop me.