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Johnathan’s voice goes cold as he peers down at me over the rim of his wine glass. “Marketing, eh? Not making nearly as much money in marketing as you are chasing after my son, I’m sure.”
Speechless, I start to slowly shake my head.
“Typically, when people do things like this for money, people use very derogatory words to refer to them,” Johnathan continues. The amicable, charming man who approached me is gone. His tone is as hard and frigid as ice.
From behind Johnathan, I hear a growl. A hand lands on his shoulder, the knuckles white from the pressure of the grip. Declan spins him around, shoving him away from me.
“What the fuck?” Declan demands. There’s fury etched across his features.
“I’m only trying to look out for you,” Johnathan protests. “I’m—”
He doesn’t get to finish his second sentence. Declan slams a closed fist into his jaw. Johnathan reels back from the punch, trying to right himself, but Declan doesn’t give him the chance. He punches him a second time, in the same place.
A few people scream. The red wine spills across the front of Johnathan’s suit like a bloodstain.
Cole weaves between the bystanders, an anxious look on his face, and seizes Declan by the back of his shirt.
“Hey, come on, man,” he says urgently. “Seriously. Cool off.”
With Cole holding Declan back, Johnathan is able to stumble away. His hand comes up to dab gingerly at his lip, which has split open. The fingers come away bloody.
Johnathan glares over at his livid son. “I’ll never understand you,” he says coolly. “What, I can’t give your new whore a little lecture?”
“Shut the fuck up!” Declan snarls. He fights against Cole, who has to physically restrain him. “Don’t talk about my girlfriend that way, you bastard!”
Johnathan arches an eyebrow. “Oh, so you do see it that way, do you?” He chuckles wryly. “Declan. Don’t be naive.”
“I’m not naive, I’m just not an ass!”
My heart pounds against my ribcage, echoing in my ears. Is this normal? Cole doesn’t seem too surprised by this outcome. Was this an inevitability from the moment Johnathan stepped into the room?
Beneath the fear and anxiety, I feel something else—shame. Johnathan reacted to me in exactly the fashion I was worried he might.
Do people in Declan’s circle really see me that way? A gold digger? A whore?
“You sound just like your mother,” Johnathan mutters, brushing at his lapel—not that it does any good. The wine has soaked into the white linen of his shirt. “Always on her fucking high horse.”
At that, Declan’s furious expression contorts even further, his face a mask of pure rage. “Don’t fucking talk about her! You don’t deserve to talk about her!”
Johnathan merely raises his voice above Declan’s, ignoring his son’s words. “Always thinking she was better than me, just for—”
“She was better than you!” Declan explodes. “Of course she was better than you!”
Declan struggles against Cole like he’s trying to force his way back over to his father. Just as it seems like Cole is about to lose his grip on Declan’s arms, Reed appears, planting himself in front of Declan.
“Come on, Dec. Let’s back it up. Come on.”
He pushes Declan away. Between the two of them, they manage to create a decent amount of distance between Declan and his father.
The crowd, which has fallen silent, parts to let Nora through. She looks back and forth between Declan and Johnathan, assessing the situation. Then, at last, her gaze falls on me. Without a word passing between us, she seems to understand what happened.
“Johnathan,” she says firmly, “you need to leave.”
For a moment, I’m worried for her safety. He’s older, but like his son, he’s tall and imposing. I can tell that he still keeps himself in shape too. She’s so small and frail compared to him.
He glowers at Declan for a moment longer, but eventually acquiesces to Nora’s demand. Good, I think, taking a deep, shaky breath. I’m pretty sure that if Johnathan had refused to obey Nora, Declan would’ve beat him into a pulp—and Cole and Reed might have let him.
Declan breathes hard, watching Johnathan leave the room. His jaw is taut with rage, the veins stark in his neck. I’ve never seen him this angry before.
