Chapter 6 Unexpected Rescues

[Sera]

"Is something wrong?" my father asked, his voice deceptively casual.

"He—he touched me," I whispered, hoping for some parental protection.

Instead, my father's face darkened. He leaned close, hissing through clenched teeth, "Don't you dare make a scene. You think you'll still have a place at Hallowy University? One call from me to Dean Wilson, and not only is your scholarship gone, but your admission too." He straightened up, his public smile back in place. "Apologize to our guest, Sera. Now."

Melvyn's smug smile made my stomach turn as I forced out an apology. After that, I surrendered, letting him have his way. His hand would "accidentally" brush against mine, his fingers lingering on my arm when he made a point. Each touch made me want to scrub my skin raw.

"Your eyes are like emeralds, your skin like silk," he murmured, leaning too close. "I would treasure you, my dear."

I couldn't take it anymore. The revulsion had built to a breaking point, and I abruptly pushed back my chair. Maybe Hallowy wasn't meant to be. I could study elsewhere, take a gap year, work and save money. I still had options.

"I'm sorry, I need some air," I said, desperately trying to keep my voice steady. "Please excuse me."

My father's hand shot out, gripping my wrist with surprising strength. He yanked me back into my seat, his fingers digging painfully into my flesh.

"Sit down," he commanded through a tight smile. To anyone watching, it might have looked like a father gently guiding his daughter. Only I could feel the bruising pressure of his grip. "Melvyn has been so generous with his time. The least you can do is be a gracious companion."

Melvyn's eyes glittered with triumph as my father held me captive. "Perhaps the young lady is simply nervous. A little more wine will help her relax."

The wine kept coming. Melvyn insisted on filling my glass repeatedly, and my father encouraged me.

"Sera, don't be impolite. Melvyn is offering a toast," he said when I hesitated.

"Come now, drink up," Melvyn urged, his eyes gleaming. "No need to be shy."

Glass after glass, I drank, desperate to please my father, to protect my scholarship and my future. But halfway through dinner, my stomach began to churn violently. The room spun around me, and I gripped the table to steady myself.

"I... I don't feel well," I mumbled, my tongue suddenly thick in my mouth.

Melvyn exchanged a look with my father. "The young lady seems tired. Perhaps I should escort her upstairs to rest?"

"By all means," my father agreed, not even looking at me. "Thank you for your understanding, Melvyn."

I tried to stand but my legs felt disconnected from my body. Melvyn's arm snaked around my waist, supporting me as we left the restaurant on the top floor of the hotel, the sounds of a lavish party in the adjacent ballroom briefly washing over us before we headed through toward the elevators.

"Tonight will be very... special, my dear," he whispered, his hand dropping lower than my waist.

The elevator doors opened, and Melvyn guided me inside. As the doors began to close, the churning in my stomach intensified. Without warning, I doubled over and vomited spectacularly all over Melvyn's expensive shoes and pants.

"You disgusting little bitch!" he snarled, his charming facade instantly vanishing. His hand raised to strike me. "Do you have any idea how much these shoes cost?"

I cowered against the elevator wall, too sick and disoriented to defend myself. Just as his hand began to descend, another hand caught his wrist in mid-air.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

A tall man with piercing blue-gray eyes had appeared beside us, his grip on Melvyn's wrist unyielding. His expression was cold as ice as he assessed the situation. Even in my hazy state, I couldn't help but notice his impeccably tailored charcoal suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and athletic build.

[Barret]

I despised these social functions.

Standing in the corner of the hotel's rooftop ballroom, I nursed the same glass of scotch I'd been holding for the past hour. My nephew Ronan's birthday celebration was in full swing, with Celeste City's elite engaged in their tedious dance of fake smiles and calculated handshakes. Business deals disguised as casual conversations. Power plays masked as friendly banter. All of it utterly exhausting.

My sister-in-law Gloria approached, her perfectly manicured hand wrapped around the elbow of a young woman in a sleek blue dress.

"Barret, darling," Gloria's voice dripped with artificial sweetness. "You simply must meet Caroline Winters. Her father's hedge fund just acquired that tech company you were interested in and—"

"Not interested," I cut her off without even glancing at the woman beside her.

Gloria's smile tightened. "You haven't even looked at her. The Winters family is quite—"

"I said no." My tone left no room for discussion.

My brother Dominic appeared beside his wife, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Still refusing to listen to your big sister-in-law, little brother? Some things never change."

I turned to face him fully, my gaze cold. The smirk on his face faltered as I stepped closer, using the two inches I had on him to look down into his eyes. "Many things have changed, Dom. I'm not the same boy you used to push around. I suggest you remember that."

Dominic's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, taking a small step back. The flash of fear in his eyes was satisfying.

Across the room, I noticed Ronan laughing with his girlfriend Marissa Ginger, the two of them looking perfectly matched in their coordinated outfits. At least someone was enjoying this party.

I was deep in conversation with an investor when I felt something cold and wet splash against my back. Turning around, I found myself face to face with a woman in a tight red dress who seemed vaguely familiar - probably one of the young crowd that hung around with Ronan and Marissa. Her expression was a carefully crafted mask of mortification.

"Oh my God, Barret! I'm so clumsy," she gasped, dabbing at my now red wine-stained white shirt with a cocktail napkin. Her fingers lingered longer than necessary. "Let me help you clean that up... perhaps somewhere more private?"

I stepped back, my irritation mounting. These games were tiresome, and I had better things to do with my time than entertain another desperate attempt at getting my attention.

"That won't be necessary," I said flatly.

"It was an accident, Barret. You don't have to be so cold." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm staying in room 1642. No strings attached. I can be there whenever you call."

A woman nearby snickered audibly. "Someone's been reading too many romance novels," she muttered to her companion, just loud enough for us to hear.