Page 7 of Accidental Encounters

Bathroom. I need to find the bathroom.

I stumbled forward. The wall was the only thing offering me support and guidance. Rounding a corner, I encountered a flight of stairs.

Yes, the bathroom was downstairs. Right by the entrance.

I sat down hard, not trusting myself to descend the flight of stairs on my feet. My ears told me that there weren’t any other people around. So I dropped to my butt and scooted down the flight of steps. It was safer this way.

When I got to the bottom, I blinked hard. One moment there was no one. The next, a familiar outline stood before me.

“There you are,” Rodger sneered.

“Go away.” I tried to stand but was suddenly wrenched to my feet. “Ouch, let me go, you’re hurting me.”

But the bastard was unrelenting. My feet couldn’t keep up, and I managed to trip, crashing hard onto my knee. The yelp of pain was instantly cut off when his hand clamped over my mouth.

“Shut your whore mouth, Rhea,” Rodger hissed in my ear.

Panic bubbled up in the back of my throat. Or maybe it was bile.

My head was too foggy, and my limbs wouldn’t work on my command. There was no feasible way to escape this wretch.

Somehow, I did have the presence of mind to bite his hand. He drew it back with a snarl.

“You’re finished,” I threatened. I was going to tell my father.

But the next instant that hand came crashing down and collided with my face. “You’ll do no such thing, Rhea.” Rodger wasn’t an idiot. Men like him didn’t crawl their way out of the gutter and become powerful by being stupid. His next words proved it: “I know what you did in Japan.”

I froze. “Impossible.”

The leer that spread across his face confirmed that I had just given away the truth of the matter. He might have suspected, but now he knew the truth—and I had been the fool to give it to him. “I will find the evidence, my dear, don’t you doubt that.” Rodger drew a finger down my cheek; I could feel the length of the nail and see the specks of dirt beneath it. That made me shudder in revulsion, not the caress itself. “Your father will keep you in the business, but he will never make you the queen you want to be. No. You need a husband. And I am not going to let you marry a little trust fund douche and take all the voting rights with you. Besides…” he brought down his lips to mine, and his fingers were coiled under my chin, making it impossible for me to turn away. “I consider you the prize, Rhea. I spent my whole career at Cirillo, and you will be the culmination of my efforts.”

“I will never be yours.”

“Bitch, I’ve earned you.”

Mercifully, I blacked out.