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I back up an inch, but the counter is in the way. He reaches forward and twists a strand of my hair in his fingers.
“Mr Archer, stop. Please leave me alone.” I step to the side, but he moves to mirror me.
“I don’t think so. I think it’s about time you showed me how grateful you are.”
“Grateful?” My voice is a whisper, and I fight the mounting panic. My eyes dart to the left. I think I could make it around the island to the door. All my adrenaline pushes my legs into action, and I sprint to the side. But a vice-like grip clamps around my wrist, pulling me back. “Oh, I do like it when they fight.”
He twists me harshly and slams me into the side. With his other arm, he shoves me forward, forcing me to bend at the waist.
Panic rises as I realise what’s happening.
“No. Stop. Stop it!”
His weight suffocates me as he leans over me. His free hand runs down my back and over my bum, searching for the edge of my dress.
“No, no, no.” I keep wiggling and fighting, but he doesn’t budge.
“Grinding your pert little arse into my cock’s a nice touch. Don’t worry, though. I’m already hard for you.”
His hand grabs at my thigh, and I try to clamp them together, but he shoves his leg between them, forcing them open.
“That’s right. Spread those legs for me. You owe me this,” he grits out.
“Shut up. Stop it. Stop it!”
My lungs start to strain, and my throat constricts, tightening as if a hand is wrapped around it.
All of a sudden, he isn’t there anymore, and there’s no pressure keeping me against the counter.
“What the—” Mr Archer starts.
I turn around to see Jeremy hauling his father off me. He swings him into the wall.
“What the fuck!” he bellows at him.
“Relax, it was just a bit of fun.” His dad tries to stand up to him, but his words twist the knife already wedged in my gut. Fun?
Jeremy’s arm swings back and unleashes a punch that clocks his dad square on the chin. He stumbles back and hits the floor, sprawling over the polished marble. The shock on his face is little retribution for what he just tried, but I’ll take it for now.
“You’re out of here.”
“Jeremy—”
“Shut the fuck up! I mean it. Leave. Or we’ll press charges. Your clients, I’m sure, would be very interested in you assaulting my girlfriend.” His voice is filled with such anger it’s unrecognisable. I want to pull him away — to flee — and pretend this never happened. But I can’t.
The embarrassment and humiliation start to build in my chest now the fear has subsided, but I’m not immune to the change in Jeremy. This is the broody boy I had a crush on but in the worst way imaginable.
He’s vibrating with anger like it’s straining him to keep it together.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Even from his position on the floor, Mr Archer sounds proper, like this was just a misunderstanding, and it stings.
Jeremy grabs his shirt and shoves him back against the polished floor. “You are in no position to argue.” And to make his point, he rains a volley of punches over his face again. He keeps going. Punch after punch.
“Jeremy, stop!” I run to him, grabbing his arm. His knuckles are red and speckled with blood, and his dad’s face is now blotchy where he’s inflicted the damage.
I pull his arm and drag him back.
“Don’t fucking try me, Dad. You’ll lose. You leave. Now. Or we call the police.”
