Adrenaline is coursing through my blood, and all I can see is my father. I’m breathing heavy, and my fist is screaming in pain. My knuckles split from the impact of landing the punch right to this fucker’s jaw.

Don’t fucking talk to her like that! I can hear myself scream as my father tries to hit her again. It’s all I can see. How I was helpless back then. But now, watching the same scene play out, I’m not going to sit back and watch.

I can’t allow it. I can’t fucking stand a man yelling at a woman. A man putting his hands on her, talking down to her. Degrading her and making her scared.

I won’t allow it.

The table rattles and the glass clinks as the other man at the table jolts back, his chair hitting the floor as he stands and backs away slowly.

My body’s tense and ready for a fight.

The waitress steps back, and so does everyone else. I can feel their eyes on me as the fucker lands hard on the tiled floor. He throws one hand up in surrender while the other cups his jaw. His mouth fills with blood. All I can see is red.

“I-” The fucker on the ground cowers and starts to speak, but I yank him up by his collar. Every inch of my skin covered with a cold sweat as my heart pounds.

“Apologize,” I scream in his face. I clench my jaw so tight, I think my teeth crack. I’m so on edge.

“Derek.” I can faintly hear Emma’s small voice, laced with fear. My grip loosens for a moment, my heart skipping a beat. Shame momentarily cripples me.

“I’m sorry,” the man in my grasp says to the waitress on my left.

“I’m alright.” I hear the waitress's voice. She’s talking to the maître d', who’s consoling her a bit to my left and behind me. Not this prick.

I know her. I forget her name, but I know her story. She’s a friend of the Marianis. She lost her husband recently, and is just trying to get by. She’s new, and she fucked up. But she didn’t deserve that. And this asshole being so comfortable doing this in public means he’s done it before.

I’m gonna make sure he never does it again.

“Derek,” Emma calls out a little louder, desperation clearly there. I see her walk closer to us in my periphery. I hesitate. She shouldn’t see this shit.

“Stay there, Emma,” I tell her sharply. I swallow thickly, wishing I could just take this shit out on him. He deserves it.

“I’m sorry, just-” The guy says; he’s shaking so hard I swear he’s gonna piss himself. Just the sound of his voice pisses me off.

“Derek, stop!” Emma calls out again, taking a step forward and reaching out for my arm.

My anger wanes as my concern for her getting in the middle of us grows, but it’s still there, raging inside of me.

“Get the fuck out,” I say beneath my breath and start to shove him away, back against the wall. But it’s not enough. I haul his ass out of the restaurant, not letting go of the grip I have on his shirt. I’m walking so fast he struggles to keep up.

As soon as we’re outside, I shove him forward. The cold bitter air chilling my heated skin. He slips on the thin sheet of snow, landing hard onto his knees, the palms of his hands bracing his fall and a small splatter of blood hitting the pure white sidewalk.

I get a strong urge to kick the fucker right in his ribs. I want him to hurt. I want him to feel this for a long fucking time, but Emma runs out like a fucking madwoman, right in front of me. She's wearing her coat and has her wristlet in hand, with my coat draped over one arm.

I grit my teeth and grab hold of her waist to pull her behind me.

“Stop!” she screams at me.

What’s she doing? She should know better.

The sounds of the people coming out of the restaurant and stirring around me barely grab my attention as the man hobbles forward and turns on his side to stand up. I give him a look that should fucking kill, and he freezes on the sidewalk.

“Please Derek, let’s go. Just stop.” Emma sounds so hurt as she pulls on my arm. “Please,” she says and her soft voice grabs my full attention as she tugs at me again, pulling my shirt tighter across my chest. “Let’s go.”

Her beautiful doe eyes look up at me. My heart slows. It’s only then I realize how heavy I’m breathing. How cold it is.

The man on the ground coughs and scoots farther away. I spare him a quick look, but nothing more.

“Let’s go,” Emma pleads as she tugs on my arm again, and this time I go to her, shrugging on my coat easily. I wrap my arm around her waist and walk us toward my car. Emma looks over her shoulder a few times, but I don’t. My pace is fast. I just want to get the fuck out of here.

Mariani’s will be fine. The other owners have done worse. She doesn’t need to know that though.

She tries to open the passenger door, but I push her against it instead. Her back hits the car door and she gasps as I press my body against hers.

I just wanna feel her. I need to.

“Derek,” she whimpers, moving her neck to give me more access as I lean against her. Kissing her exposed skin, I push my knee between her legs. Fuck, I want her so bad. My dick starts hardening at the thought of taking her right here, right now. I’m so worked up. And I’ve wanted her for days. Fuck that. Years.

My heavy breath turns to fog as I leave open-mouth kisses along her neck.

“Derek,” she says again in little more than a whisper, pushing me away slightly.

I don’t expect her to push me away, since she was leaning into me at first. But she looks over her shoulder at the entrance to the Bistro and then back at me, that vulnerability in her eyes again.

I pull away and open the door for her without another word. Waiting for her to climb in, I can hardly look her in the eyes, before I shut it gently and readjust my cock in my jeans.

I look back at the restaurant one last time, the bright red blood still visible from this far away.

I shouldn’t have done that.

I just can’t allow a man to treat a woman like that. But the way Emma’s pushing me away makes it more than obvious I shouldn’t have done that.

* * *

It’s quiet in the car. Too fucking quiet. The small cuts on my knuckles are irritating the shit out of me as I drive on the interstate, taking us closer to my house, and her sister's.

I don’t want to end the night like this. I want her to come home with me. I wanna make it up to her. I twist my hand on the wheel and swallow down my pride.

“I’m sorry,” I finally say, my voice rough and low. I’m staring straight ahead, but I can feel those beautiful hazel eyes on me. I chance a look at her and she doesn’t seem angry, or disappointed. Instead there’s a different look in her eyes, the same look she gave me that first day all those years ago. Like she’s trying to figure me out. Trying to decide who I am.

“He was a dick,” she finally says, ignoring my apology. My skin tingles with an uncomfortable heat as we get closer to the off ramp. My heart is clenching tight in my chest.

“Yeah. You okay?” I ask her.

“I’m fine,” she answers quickly. She finally sits back in her seat a bit, but she still looks tense.

“I mean it,” I say and look at her and wait for her eyes to meet mine. “I’m sorry.”

Her expression softens and she puts her small hand on my lap, leaning toward me slightly.

“It’s alright,” she says softly. But that look is still in her eyes.

“I want you, Sweetheart.” I look back toward the road, and realize I have to decide soon where I’m taking her. “Come home with me tonight.”

“I’m not like that.” She shakes her head a bit and pulls away from me. “I’m really sorry I gave you that impression.”

“Like what?”

“Just an easy lay,” she answers absently.

“Where the fuck did that come from?” I ask her with some of my anger coming through. Before she can answer, I continue. “I’ve wanted you since high school. I don’t fuck around. I don’t let people in. But you’re there. Somehow I never had a choice on whether or not I could let you in.”

“It’s just that I’m going back-” Emma starts to say, but I’m shutting that shit down. She can tell me she hates what I do, over and over again. I can live with that. But I won’t let her think that she’s just an easy lay for me. Joking around? Sure. But actually believing it? No. She better fucking not.

“This isn’t me thinking you’re a one-night stand. I want you.” I emphasize the last part and feel a prickling sensation along my skin as she stares back at me. I can see she’s deciding whether or not she believes me. I’ve never given her any reason not to, but it’s been so long. I still feel everything from back then as if it was yesterday. I can only hope she does, too.

“Just give me the night to convince you,” I plead with her. I know I fucked tonight up. I know she’s worried about the shit I do, and the man I am. But I just need her touch. “Don’t think about anything else. It’s just you and me right now.”

I turn the car onto the exit ramp, and now I have to go one of two ways. Left takes me home; right takes me to her sister’s.

“Just tonight?” I ask her, keeping my car in the left lane, but looking behind me in the rearview, ready to steer the car to the right if she tells me to.

Finally, she nods and answers, “Just tonight.” My body relaxes slightly, the adrenaline still coursing through me.

I have her for the night. If nothing else, I have her for tonight.