Page 6

Blood roared to my head, ears ringing!

If Freckles' humiliation had been dirty water thrown in my face, then this powerful man's filthy words were a red-hot brand, searing through every last shred of dignity I had.

"Don't look!" I screamed, lunging forward, pressing the photos against my chest. I stumbled back two steps, heels scraping harsh on the wooden floor.

"Keep your disgusting comments to yourself, Mr. Moretti!" I glared at him, chest heaving violently, tears forced out by fury and humiliation. Alcohol had completely burned away my common sense, making me forget his terrifying status. "I thought you were a respectable gentleman, but apparently you're no different from those frat assholes downstairs who only think with their dicks! Stop looking at me like that!"

Dead silence in the hallway.

Mr. Moretti didn't get angry. Didn't even blink. He just stood there, one hand in his pocket, looking down at my flushed, furious face.

On that face with its sharp, defined features, the false veneer of a respectable elite crumbled away inch by inch, replaced by something violent, raw, and thick with male aggression.

He bit through his cigar and stepped toward me.

The crushing pressure hit me like an iron wall. His expensive cedar and dry tobacco scent wrapped around me, airtight.

"Disgusting?" He leaned in slightly, scalding breath nearly brushing my nose, voice rough as sandpaper. "Girl, don't play innocent virgin with me. You brought this explicit shit to a party full of idiots. What'd you expect? Of course you wanted men to see you and lose their minds. So what—those immature boys can look at you, but I can't?"

His gaze raked over my heaving chest without apology, the dark fire in his eyes burning fiercely. "I've seen plenty of girls like you. Don't want to work hard, just want to hook a rich man and coast for life. Girls like you are always showing off, practically putting a price tag on every part of your body—so you dress like this and expect me to treat you like a nun?"

"You—! Asshole! Stay away from me!!" His brutal, naked humiliation made my whole body shake. I raised my hand to smash the bag into his arrogant face.

"Ruby, what's taking so long? I've been looking everywhere for you!"

A nasal, careless shout cut through from around the corner.

Chad appeared at the top of the stairs, swaying, half a bottle of foaming Budweiser in hand. His bloodshot, drunk eyes carried irritation at first, but when he saw the tall figure in the hallway, his expression froze.

"Everything okay here?" Chad hurried over, his tone carrying some pathetic attempt at claiming ownership. But the joke was, if his eyes hadn't been glued to Mr. Moretti's suit the whole time without sparing me even a glance, I might've actually been touched by his possessiveness.

"I'm fine." I took a breath, grabbed the photos from the table, and shoved them into my bag. I stepped back. The dress had ridden up from the struggle, exposing my thick thighs. I yanked it down frantically.

"M-Mr. Moretti!" Chad seemed to fully sober up, straightening his slouched back like a soldier at inspection. He tried to force out a polished, business smile, but paired with his stained polo and the beer bottle he didn't know where to put, he looked ridiculous. "God, I had no idea you were here... this is such an honor—"

"You don't need to feel honored." Mr. Moretti's voice dropped to freezing, returning to that commanding authority. "I'm just making sure everything stays within safe limits."

His gaze moved coldly between Chad and me for half a second. "Congratulations on your diploma, Mr. Wellington. Hope you celebrate responsibly."

"Of course, sir. Absolutely." Chad nodded like a bobblehead.

Mr. Moretti didn't acknowledge him further. He turned his attention back to me. For one brief second, I thought he'd say something else. But he only inclined his head slightly—a perfectly formal aristocratic gesture—then turned and walked into the darkness.

I watched him leave, heart still pounding.

"What the hell was that?" Chad's hand clamped onto my elbow, hard enough to make me gasp. His expression wasn't obsequious anymore—it was offended anger. "What were you doing in the hallway with Moretti?"

"Let go, Chad. It was nothing. Someone bumped into me, my bag fell, he happened to walk by and helped me pick things up." I instinctively hid the truth, jerking my arm free.

"Is that right?" Chad looked me up and down suspiciously, his gaze stopping on the bag I clutched, his mouth twisting into a mocking sneer. "Whatever. Come on."

He didn't take my hand. Just strode ahead, roughly shouldering open the half-closed door to a guest room.

I forced myself to follow, trying to stay calm.

The room reeked of moldy carpet. Chad kicked aside empty bottles on the floor and dropped onto the couch. His beer bottle thudded dully on the table.

"Okay, now we're finally alone." He leaned back, his tone carrying zero warmth—just annoyance. "So what's so important you had to drag me away from the party? You know Blake's waiting for me in the—"