Page 19 of Bedazzled
“Right?” Ella’s lip curled, “What a prick. That was no pat. That was a punch.”
I kissed Tania’s cheek. “Nothing to worry about, darling.” There were still flames of agony from the burning ache in my shoulder traveling down my arm, but I picked up my drink, trying not to drain it in one gulp.
Tania…
Dinner was spectacular, aside from that Rico Suave-looking asshole who smacked Yuri on the shoulder. Prick. I was still thinking about theCoquilles St. Jacques and duck confit with some seriousappreciation when I bumped into someone on the way to the ladies' room.
“Oh, excuse me-”
He caught my elbow, pretending to steady me. “Are you all right, gorgeous?”
Great, speak of the devil. Ortega was trying to loom over me but in my epic new Louboutin’s, we were the same height. He was attempting to give me a sexy grin. Ugh.
“Glad I ran into you,” he leered, “I didn’t catch your name at the table?”
Oh, it’s too late to smile at me,I thought,I’ve seen the swamp troll you’re trying to hide under the human skin suit you’re wearing.
“Yeah, that’s because we weren’t introduced,” I pulled loose from his grip on my arm. “So, excuse me and everything-”
“Hey, hey honey,” he stepped in front of me and tried to touch me again, “wait a minute. I want to get to know you. You can’t want to stick with Morozov,” he scoffed, “that fucker is roadkill. He’s just meat, and he knows it.”
“I’d tell you to go to hell, you asshole, but it’s not like it would be a burn since that’s your hometown,” I snarled, “butyou-you are an infinitesimal speck of hair pomade compared to Yuri.”
“Miss, if you’ll come with me, I’ll show you the way to the ladies’ room.” It was Ivan, who moved gracefully between me and Mr. Murder Britches, whose nostrils were flaring and chest was heaving.
“Thanks, Ivan. You’re a gentleman and a scholar.” I looped my arm with his, even though I knew his soul was curdling at the wildly inappropriate lack of distance between said bodyguard and bodyguard’s client’s friend.
Deftly leading me in the opposite direction and down a long hall, he murmured urgently, “That is not a man you ever want to offend. Or speak to. Or even look at.”
“It’s not my fault!” I protested, “The asshole deliberately bumped into me and was trying to ooze his charm all over me like a slime bath.”
Ivan waited outside the bathroom while I speedily got business done, washed my hands and checked for lipstick on my teeth. But it wasn’t fast enough.
I could hear the shouting from the private dining room the minute I walked out the bathroom door, and Ivan and I raced back down the hall, my heels slipping and sliding on the marble floor.
“You fuckin’ think you’re better than me?”
It was Ortega, screaming at Yuri, who had kept control of himself. He stood up and towered over the screamer, making him look even more ridiculous, like one of those little yappy dogs barking at a massive Doberman.
“You should turn around right now, Ortega. Walk the out that door and never come near me again. I will not tolerate your disrespect.”
My Yuri’s standing perfectly straight, no sign of the suffering I know his broken ribs and all the stitches must be causing him.
“Fuck you, man!” I can hear the loud sniff from here and I know that jackhole took some of his own product. And where’s Philippe-Alain’s legendary security? Because right now there’s a bristling wall of bodyguards and bad guys - ours and Ortega’s - on either side of the table and I know they’re armed.
It was so quick that I had to replay it in my head later to get the sequence straight. Yuri’s fist lashed out and crushed Ortega’s nose. The blood flew away from his face in gruesome splatters and I could see his nose, flat against his face as he fell backward and hit the floor before his men could catch him.
“Oh, god…” I whispered it, terrified to distract Yuri because now the guns are out and pointing at everyone.
“This will stop immediately!”
Oh,nowthe Frenchman was charging up the hill - or the stairs in this case - surrounded by his guards.
“Nice timing,pal,”I mumbled as they passed us. Ivan still had a death grip on my arm and I was straining to see if Yuri was okay. Ella tried to go to him and Maksim was holding on to her, too.
Then I could see why. There was a red stain, spreading across his white dress shirt and I know he had popped some stitches. God, there were so many stitches, especially around the area Dr. Guilanos had to take part of his liver and his hand was swelling too, more blood tingeing the tips of the two fingers where his nails were torn out. But he was still standing tall, his beautiful face stone cold and composed.
I knew he would still think this was a display of weakness to all these grotesque thugs and made men, and fuck them all, sitting there watching like it was all a show for their entertainment. Of course, for these assholes, it was the best kind of entertainment. Pain, blood, brutality… they must have been squirming in their seats.
