Page 16 of Surrender to Me
I sat up straight, then tossed back a shot. “Hey, come here,” I said, wiggling my finger at the bartender. “What’s your name?”
“Boy,” he said.
“Boy?” I asked. “Your name is Boy?”
“That’s my name when I’m here,” he said.
Yeah, and I’m Owen’s fucking sub, I thought. “My name’s Riley.”
He held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Miss Glass.”
Did everyone know more about me than I knew about them? I groaned. “What’s a girl gotta do to get a boy to take her home around here?” I asked, putting emphasis on the word ‘boy’.
“I thought you were Owen’s,” he said.
“Only down there,” I said, pointing to the dungeon.
Boy The Bartender shrugged and started drying glasses while I sat there glaring at him. This was going to be harder than I thought. I threw back the other shot and tapped on the bar when Boy was looking. He brought me another, but only one this time, and I held back the desire to hiss at him.
The lit up bottles behind the bar looked like a sea of jewels, shimmering beneath the water. I swerved to the side to see if there were any other potential men standing around, ready to be pursued, but everyone was with someone, as if I needed my status with Owen—as his abandoned sub—rubbed into my salty heart even more. I turned to Boy, almost falling off my chair in the process. I quickly adjusted myself. I’d have to call a rideshare.
“So where’s yours?” I asked. He nodded to a man as tall and lanky as himself, with black hair and ghostly pale skin, talking to two women at a cocktail table. I wasn’t Boy’s type either. Fine. It’s not like I actually wanted him to want me. I wanted to make Owen jealous. I wanted to piss him off.
“Boy, I’m thinking we break out of here,” I said, winking. “We don’t need these bullshit, fucked up, demeaning relationships like this.” His eyes perked up at the f-word, as if he was an innocent Sunday school student. It amazed me; in a private nightclub with a floor entirely dedicated to the wildest, most perverted fantasies, some of the members could still be shocked at a curse word. Deep down I knew he might’ve been surprised at my attitude towards Owen, who I know he respected like everyone else did, but I wanted to blame the cursing. Everything about the night was beginning to annoy me. It didn’t matter that I had taken a few perfect base photos and had had an incredible, heartbreaking and strengthening ‘scene’ with Owen. Oh, Owen Lowell and his scenes. What a fucking charmer. We were only an actor and actress in his eyes. And when it came to reality, I was still acting like I didn’t want him.
Boy raised his eyebrows. I could see him making eye contact with his man in the background. “You say it like it’s not our choice,” he said. He nodded at someone, and when I swung around, I fell off of the stool this time. The two women and Boy’s man helped me up. I held in my internal growls and thanked them under my breath. I wasn’t embarrassed. I was angry.
“Riley,” a voice hummed from behind me. I knew it was Owen before I even turned around. He was that kind of person; you could feel him there; his presence took up space even where his body wasn’t. An icy chill ran down my back.
“What?” I hissed.
The two women held my arms, making sure I was stable, and when I was, Owen nodded and they stepped away. “What do you want?” I asked, punctuating each word. I crossed my arms.
“Are you trying to cause a scene?” he asked.
I laughed. “Funny you should say that. Am I not acting the way you want me to?” I clumsily bent over the bar, pretending to lift up my imaginary skirt. “Why don’t you punish me?”
“If you have any grievances with me, take them up with me. Don’t force—”
“Force?” I asked, raising my voice. “Force? Boy over here made sure I remembered that it was my choice. But let me ask you something, Owen. Do you think I chose to be here as ‘yours’?” I put air quotes around the word ‘yours.’ “Did you honestly give me all of the information I needed to make a proper decision? I didn’t know being ‘yours’ meant you were going to rip out my fucking heart. Who gave you permission to tear apart my soul and forget me in the dungeon?”
“You knew the parameters,” Owen said. He didn’t raise his voice, even with how loud I was getting. “You knew how to get out if you wanted—”
“I didn’t want out!” I shouted.
Owen stared at me. My whole body felt like it was melting from the vodka; I couldn’t even feel the dull ache in my thighs anymore.
“What do you want, Riley?” he asked.
It was then that I felt his hand resting on the small of my back. I turned and looked around, seeing the people circled around us as swatches of paint blending in with each other. For a moment, the image of my mother, soaking wet in the bathtub, crying about a man who never truly loved her, flickered into my mind. I looked up at Owen and his green eyes peered down at me, like he was reaching out to catch me. Then it went dark.