The Seduction(3)
Author: Carly Phillips

“Hey, bitch, you spilled on me,” the jerk says as he jumps up, his hands balling into fists.

I look from the liquid that drips off the table to the nice wet spot in the center of his jeans. Then I grin. “Yeah? Maybe it’ll cool you off, lover boy.” I turn and walk away without looking back.

This night sucks and can’t end fast enough.

“Rough time?” Callie, another waitress, asks. She’s older than me and bulkier. I think she works out in her spare time. I’m not sure. I don’t know her that well. Since I split time between school and work and study when I can, I don’t have time to socialize outside of work.

I nod. “A bunch of drunk ass**les over there.” I jerk my thumb in their direction.

“Want me to take the table?” she offers.

I smile at her. She’s one of the nicer people I’ve met here. “Nah. I can handle them. But thanks.”

“I feel bad. I’ve got the hot guy in black, and you’ve got the ass**les.”

I shiver at the reminder. “He’s still here?” I’ve been too busy to focus on him.

“He is. And he asked about you.”

“He did?”

Callie nodded, her smile wide. “He asked if you were involved with anyone.”

I blink in total surprise. Butterflies take off inside my stomach. Though I shouldn’t, I glance over my shoulder. He’s watching me. As if he knows we’re talking about him, he raises his bottle in acknowledgment.

“See?” Callie’s voice rises in excitement for me. “He’s nothing like the immature guys who normally come in here. I bet he doesn’t even know about you and … you know.”

I’ve already confided in her. I had to during my first week, when someone called out insults and I felt the need to explain.

“Not saying the words doesn’t change the fact that it happened. Sex tape. You don’t think he knows that I’m a  p**n  star on the Internet?” I feel the disgust and self-loathing I normally keep at bay slide into me.

According to my mother, now no decent man will want anything to do with me. But who says Hot Guy is decent, a little voice inside me asks. Maybe he’s a bad boy who would be interested in someone like me. Someone who makes stupid mistakes and bad choices.

You’ve sworn off men, the more rational side of me argues. I rub at my temples.

“He’s not in college. Chances are he has no idea. Now stop being so hard on yourself.” Callie picks up the drinks Tank places on the bar and sets them on her tray.

“Tell me you’d be patting yourself on the back for a job well done if you were me?”

She laughs. “Chill. That’s all I’m saying.”

We go back to work. The night finally comes to an end. I’m the last one to finish wiping down my station and get myself together. I think I’m moving in slow motion thanks to the exhaustion seeping through me. I make sure my cell and tips are in my purse, sling it over my neck and shoulder, and start to head out.

Tank is on the phone, arguing with his girlfriend, when I wave good-bye. He winks at me and goes back to his conversation.

I walk into the parking lot. I live in the city and could take the subway, but that scares me more at this late hour than parking back here. Besides, if my parents are willing to continue to pay for the car and parking by the dorm, I’m not about to argue. The time will come when I give up the rest of the luxuries they provide, but I’m not ready. Not yet.

The humid summer air wraps itself around me, unwanted and uncomfortable. The cool breeze of my air conditioner is so close. My small BMW sits close by in a darkened corner. I wait until I reach the door before hitting unlock on the remote. A sense of unease ripples through me as I reach for the handle.

“Hey, bitch.”

And now I know why.

Bile rises in my throat, and I grip the car handle. Do I open it and try to jump in to escape? I don’t think I’d make it inside.

My heart’s pounding hard in my chest. “What do you want?” I ask.

“What you so willingly give in that video. I won’t let you make a fool of me in front of my friends,” the rude guy from the bar says.

He grabs my arm and wrenches me away from the car. I kick out at him, catching him in the shin.

He merely laughs. “You like it rough?” he asks, going directly for my skirt and yanking it down over my hips.

Oh hell no. I reach back to punch him like the Ferro brothers taught me when I was younger, but before I can throw down, he’s on the ground, being beaten by none other than Hot Guy, and he’s not letting up.

I scream for him to stop. He doesn’t listen. It’s like he’s on autopilot and won’t give up until the guy on the floor isn’t just bruised and battered but dead. I can’t let that happen.

“Stop!” I yell again, and since I can’t grab his arm without getting hit or jabbed by his elbow myself, I jump onto his back. My only focus is to stop him from killing the ass**le who attacked me. “Enough!” I yell in his ear, my ribs taking the brunt of each punch as he draws his arm back over and over.

My screams finally seem to penetrate, and he stops beating the crap out of the other man. I slide off his back and plop down onto the hard ground beside him. He’s breathing heavily and so am I.

He flexes his bruised fingers. A glance at the other guy tells me he’s beaten to a pulp and out cold.

Suddenly I’m shivering as I realize I’m nearly naked in the parking lot and alone with a man capable of violence. I glance at the prone, bloody body and gag before turning away.

“Don’t look,” he says in a gruff voice.

“I won’t.”

He rises and strides over to me and holds out a hand, offering to pull me to my feet.

“I need to fix myself first.” I want to yank up my skirt, and I don’t need him watching me.

“Go ahead.” A slight grin tips the edges of his mouth, and his gaze never leaves mine.

“A gentleman would turn around.”

“A gentleman wouldn’t pound your attacker into the ground.”

I didn’t like the reminder. I wait, giving him a pointed glare.

Finally, he huffs out a laugh and pivots around. I rise and fix my skirt, adjusting myself until I’m comfortable. Then I spin back to face him.

“We need to get the hell out of here.” He jerks his head toward the now-moaning man on the ground.

“I think I should call 911.”

He shakes his head. “Not on your life. Let’s go.” He grabs my hand.