Pink or green?
Hot pink sequined dress or long, green classy ballgown?
Decisions, decisions.
Johnny would prefer the pink, an unwanted voice hisses in my ear. I packed the dress with him specifically in mind.
Really though, what does it matter what I wear to the party? I’m only going as part of my job. Dad even assigned me a date for the party tonight. I tried my best to get out of it, but Dad insisted.
“Juan Garcia wants to escort you,” he’d proudly informed me. “He’s a self-made oil multimillionaire, and someone of considerable influence. From Argentina. More than worthy to be your date for the function.”
That was the real reason Dad had shown up unannounced that night at my apartment. He hadn’t minced words about what he thought of Johnny then either.
“If you go for Johnny, you’re a fool,” he’d said simply. “He’s never had a recorded long-term girlfriend in history. I know, I’ve checked him out thoroughly before we bought out the sponsorship. Then again, if you enjoy being one on a list of hundreds, if not thousands of women...”
When I didn’t answer him immediately or promise that I would never see Johnny on a personal basis again, he’d quickly changed his tune.
“Under no circumstances are you to form any sort of liaison with that man, Summer. I’m disappointed I even need to tell you this. What would it look like to shareholders if our VP is sleeping with one of our drivers? Don’t forget you’re technically spending their money to sponsor his team. Act professional at all times. I insist upon it. The family name is at stake here.”
I’d managed to come up with no argument of my own. Dad was right. He was just reiterating facts I knew already.
Closing my eyes, I throw my hand out and grab a dress. Seeing my hand filled with pink satin, I grimace.
Pink it is then.
I spend an extra few minutes doing my hair and makeup. I’m kidding myself if I think it’s for my assigned date’s benefit. I couldn’t care less about the man.
Juan Garcia arrives at my hotel lobby promptly on time and immediately ushers me out the door to his waiting limo. Once we’re inside, he shakes my hand with his clammy one. He’s handsome, although there’s something about it that’s unattractive to me.
“What a pleasure this is can simply not be overstated,” he says in a silky voice.
When he kisses my hand, it leaves a wet mark.
“Your father tells me you are single,” he continues, his gaze lowering to my cleavage.
I shift in my seat, trying to keep the smile fixed on my face.
“I’ve been quite busy recently,” I say, “But yes, yes I am.”
The twinge of guilt in me, I ignore.
“Excellent,” he says, clasping my hand to his chest like a beloved pet, “We will get along just splendidly then.”
I can’t help but wonder what his response would’ve been had I said I was already taken.
The short ride to the restaurant passes in much the same way. Juan asking increasingly personal questions, and me answering swiftly and then lapsing into an uncomfortable silence.
As we’re pulling up to restaurant’s marquis-lit exterior, Juan clasps my hand with a vice-like grip.
“You’re aware that you are beautiful, yes?” his thick lips pronounce, as his eyes stare into mine passionately. “And that when a woman is as beautiful as you are, any man with her cannot be held accountable for what he does?”
Oh hell yes, they can.
Tearing my gaze away, I quickly exit the car and try not to think about the implications of his bizarre comment.
As I’m leaving the car, however, Juan’s meaty fingers slide down my ass.
“Please don’t do that,” I say coolly as he joins me.
Juan smiles his big white teeth, snatching my hand in his as if he hadn’t heard me. Peering into the already jam-packed restaurant, I try not to sigh. I’ve had weird unfortunate dates in the past, sure, but none quite like this.
It’s going to be a long night.
Inside, the restaurant’s tables have been almost entirely emptied out for the festivities. Instead, they’ve placed a few standing tables around the exterior, and converted the entire second floor balcony to a dance floor.
On the second floor, I can just make out Johnny, with a half-full glass of wine in each hand. Two girls are on either side of him, hanging onto his every word. Our eyes lock, and I hurriedly turn away.
“A drink for the Madame?” Juan asks, his hand sliding too low on my back.
“May as well,” I say with a resigned sigh.
I can already tell. There’s no way I’m getting through tonight sober.
Feeling eyes on me, I turn to see Johnny staring down at me. I glance down to see my hand still clasped in Juan’s. No wonder all my poor left fingers are uncomfortably numb.
“Drink up,” Juan urges, lifting a ludicrously tall glass to my lips.
Clearly the man wants me drunk too.
It’s kind of annoying to placate a man who I already borderline hate, but I take a nice big gulp anyway. Since we’re temporarily after the same immediate goal.
To get me wasted.
“Good girl,” he says, patting me on the arm.
Ugh! He’s disgusting.
When I glance back, Johnny isn’t standing where he was before. Disappointment pangs through me. What I need is another drink to go with this one.
I turn to see that Juan has moved a few feet away. He’s sitting on a low-slung armchair with his legs spread wide. He pats one knee, beckoning me over to him like a puppy.
“I’ve got your drink right here. Come on over and sit down.”
I blink back my anger. Tonight keeps getting worse and I haven’t been here ten minutes yet.
As I stride up to take the glass, he moves it away at the last second, shaking his head. He pats his knee.
“Have a seat. Madame wants a drink, Madame sits on seat.”
“That’s your leg you’re gesturing to,” I point out, “Not a chair. So, it’s okay. I’m perfectly fine with standing. I can get my own drink.”
“Nonsense,” he says, standing as well.
He must know I’m ready to flee.
“Fancy meeting you here,” a deep, sexy voice says.
I turn to see Johnny, his hair all wild and tousled, exactly the way I love it. He’s wearing a French jacket that’s open to show off his impressively chiseled chest.
“Hey,” I say weakly, feeling Juan’s arm slide around me possessively.
“Your date?” Johnny says, tipping his head uncertainly.
Delicately, I try extricating myself, but Juan’s beefy arm won’t budge. His oily face is uncomfortably close to my shoulder. I can feel his breath on my neck and it’s creeping me out.
“You’re the famous racecar driver?” he says to Johnny.
Johnny lifts up a wine glass.
“The very same.”
An awkward silence descends on us. Every part of me wants to rip myself out of Juan’s grasp, snatch Johnny’s drink and throw it in Juan’s face, but I hold myself rigidly still. Johnny must see the conflict on my face, because he pauses and gives me a concerned look.
“You sure you’re alright?” he asks.
Willing my furious features into neutrality, I nod. If there is one thing I hate, it’s embarrassing public scenes. I’ll do almost anything to avoid them.
“Yep,” I croak.
“Okay, if you’re sure,” he says, “Guess I’ll see you around then.”
He’s a few steps away, when I manage to rip myself free.
“What’s wrong?” Juan asks, squeezing my ass.
I don’t care who he is, I’m not about to be mauled by a jerk like him. I round on him, eyes blazing.
“I swear, if you do that one more time, I’ll slap the shit out of you,” I hiss.
Now it’s Juan’s bushy brows lowering in anger.
“Who are you to talk to me in such a way?”
I glare into his glittering black eyes, imagining myself giving him a full piece of my mind. But then an image of my dad’s own furious face flashes in my head.
“I have to go,” I say, turning away. “I’m not feeling well.”
He grabs my arm.
“Hey,” I snap, trying to yank it back, “Let me go, asshole.”
“Get your fucking hands off her.”
It’s Johnny, storming back across the room until he’s face to face with Juan.
“Or what?” Juan says.
“Or I’ll make you.”
“Johnny,” I say quietly, “Thank you, but this is between us. It’s not your concern. I have everything under control.”
“The Madame is right,” Juan says, lifting his chin so he can look down his bulbous nose at Johnny, “Move along, car boy.”
Johnny laughs.
“Sorry, I don’t think you realize who I am. The car boys are the reason this whole party is happening.”
Grabbing Juan’s fingers, he pries them off my arm.
“I’d be careful what you say to me,” Johnny growls, standing in front of me protectively, “And what you say to this lady.”
For one dangerous second no one moves.
The entire room has gone deathly silent as everyone watches Johnny.
Juan takes a step forward. Clasping his big hands in front of him, he tells Johnny, “That’s my date, so I’d suggest you move along.”
I lock my hands around Johnny’s arm.
“Johnny, don’t,” I whisper, “Don’t make a scene. Please.”
“But, this asshole is bothering…”
Johnny looks down at me and doesn’t see Juan’s massive fist coming at him.
The sound of flesh meeting skin as Juan’s fist splits into Johnny’s face is deafening.