Page 38 of Worth Every Penny
A knot forms in my chest, immediately sending spirals of heat through me. I want to rush over there and slam him against the wall until his skull shatters, but I hold back, clenched fists deep in the pockets of my overcoat. I need to know if she’s into this.
Seb turns to see what I’m staring at. “That’s the star of that new movie franchise. Michael Bond. James Bond. Whatever the fuck it is.”
“Michael Drayton,” Erica fills in. “That’s his name.”
I’m hardly listening, staring as Kate flicks her hair off her face, and Seb squints across the room. “Shit,” he says. “Is that—”
“Yes,” I reply.
A swathe of dancing B-list celebrities obscures my view, but when they clear the actor is gripping Kate’s wrists, forcing themover her head with one hand. She’s writhing against the wall. His other hand grabs her jaw, pinning it in place. He tilts his head, his mouth coming down fast towards hers. She twists in what looks to be an attempt to escape him. But is it? I can’t be sure.
His hand slides down the column of her neck.
Fuck.Heat blazes through me, ravaging my insides, destroying every intention to hold back. I don’t fucking care if she’s into this or not. It’s not happening.
I march towards them, Seb at my elbow. He grabs my arm, tugs me round to look at him.
“Nico,” he hisses, “Don’t make a scene. It’s opening night, and he’s an A-lister.”
I cast him a dismissive glare and shrug him off. “I don’t care if he’s the King of fucking England.”
Seb retreats, eyes wide and hands raised in surrender, and I continue my march across the dance floor. People swerve out of the way, yelling and cursing at me, but I ignore them. My focus is on Kate, and Kate alone.
Michael grabs her with both hands and yanks her into him. She’s turning her face away so he can’t meet her lips, but he pursues her mouth, undeterred, adjusting her body to meet his needs.
Another step and I have the guy by the collar, wrenching him towards me. “Get your hands off her.”
Up close, he’s unusually good looking, his sweat-slick blonde hair falling over his forehead.
Kate gawks at me, a look of horror on her face.
“What the fuck, dude? We’re busy.” Michael’s voice is hard and sober, as expected. I’m itching to punch his handsome face, but there are people watching and I can hear Seb’s warning ringing in the back of my head.Don’t make a scene.
“I said take your hands off her. She’s drunk.”
As if to prove my point, Kate flops forward from where she’s leaning against the wall, and Michael roughly props her back up with one hand.
“Dude, fuck off,” he spits at me over his shoulder. “I’m about to get laid here.”
Before I can think twice, I’m pulling back a tight fist and swinging a perfect right hook that catches him in the jaw.
Kate squeals, her hands covering her mouth as Michael bends double, clutching his face, blood gushing from his nose, or his mouth or I don’t fucking know where from.
“What the fuck?” Michael groans, spitting blood through his fingers as he cups a hand over the lower half of his face. “I’ll sue you. This face is worth millions.”
“Go ahead,” I mutter. “I’m good for it.”
I signal to the security guards who are lingering discreetly at the sides of the room. They move at my command and whatever objection Michael is about to make dies on his tongue as he holds his hands up.
“Get the fuck out,” I demand, and then turn my focus to the head of security who’s now beside me. “Take him out the back. Clean him up. Call a doctor if he needs to see one.”
The men escort Michael away, him slumped between them, all bravado vanished, and I grip Kate by the elbow. She’s so unsteady on her feet, she’d be on her arse in seconds if I let go.
“You hit him,” Kate slurs. At least I think that’s what she says. She’s drunker than I thought. “He didn’t do anything to you.”
“Didn’t he?”
She frowns like she can’t make sense of what I’m saying, then wriggles in my grip. “Let me go.”