A whore?
Her blood boiled, her sadness drowned out on a wave of rage as she turned to face a red-tinged Charles, her palm itching to swing for him. ‘I have nothing to say to you.’
She made for the exit. He wasn’t worth creating a scene for; he wasn’t worth anything to her any more. He was just a sad little man who no longer had any hold over her. She thrust open the door and strode out into the evening, realising too late that he was hot on her tail, his hand reaching for her arm and pulling her to the wall.
‘Let go of me, Charles.’
‘You never used to mind me touching you,’ he said, his face so close that she could smell his alcohol-tainted breath, could see a wildness to his eyes.
Christ, was he drunk? He hadn’t seemed drunk inside.
She shook her head. ‘If you don’t back away, I’m going to make a scene.’
She eyed the pavement, the few people hovering, the odd journalist out taking a break.
He stepped towards her, forcing her back against the hotel wall. His eyes raked over her, their depths blazing. Fear clenched her throat tight and she raised her palms to his chest, pushing against his unrelenting form. ‘Please, Charles, stop.’
Suddenly he shifted, his eyes widening momentarily before he flew away from her, his feet struggling to remain grounded on the pavement.
‘The lady said to back off.’
Zara focused through the fear-filled daze, a raging Daniel consuming her vision, his expression unrecognisable as his eyes flashed dangerously on Charles.
‘What is it, playboy?’ Charles challenged, all drunken arrogance now that he’d recovered his stance. ‘You going to fight her corner? Your latest slapper going to draw you into a fight? I don’t think so.’
He laughed at his own joke, rolling his shoulders as he moved to step past them and then Daniel moved, so swiftly she couldn’t judge his intent until it was too late, his fist making cracking contact with Charles’ jaw. He flew back to the ground his hand coming up, his face slackened and distorted with pain, with anger, with humiliation.
Daniel stood over him, his shoulders heaving, his rage palpable and all Zara could do was watch, her body quivering, the same realisation she’d had inside, when he’d faced Charles off, flooding her anew and bringing terror rushing with.
She loved him.
And for a silly deluded second, when he’d come to her defence, she’d believed he loved her too. Had got caught up in the moment. Had believed she wasn’t just another girl. It wasn’t just sex.
And then reality hit and she realised she needed to escape. To get away from him. From Charles. From everything that tore her heart in two.
And yet, here they both were, refusing to let her go.
Well, fuck that.
She turned and started walking, ignoring the curious looks of passers-by, the calls from Daniel as he took up chase. She walked as fast as her heels would permit.
‘Zara, wait up, please, we need to talk.’
He came up behind her, his hands reaching out for her shoulder, and she ducked him. She couldn’t risk his touch, knowing how it would make her feel, how it would crush her resolve so easily. ‘No amount of talking is going to change my mind. I can’t do this any more.’
‘But—’
‘Please, Daniel,’ she begged into his wavering gaze, his confusion beating down into her. ‘I just want to go home.’
‘At least let me take you—let Peters take you?’ he said, his hands thrusting into his pockets. ‘I need to know you get home safely.’
Behind them, she could hear Charles’ raised voice, the mutterings of several others that had joined him and the scene that was bu
ilding.
Christ, what a night.
It wasn’t just her that needed out, it was Daniel too. The press were going to be on this imminently. Her need to protect him had her nodding. ‘Call Peters, get him to meet us at Victoria Bus Station.’