Pretending (Westshore Series #1)

Chapter Twenty One: Pure ass-beating Rage

I didn't have a car here, but the one thing Juliet Grayson could do was a long walk. I went back into my room and changed into spy gear; by spy gear, I meant some black leggings and my black lululemon align jacket. I put my hair in a ponytail but left my makeup on because it was too pretty to take off.

The location wasn't too far away, so I start my walk at 230am and arrive at 315. Once I get there, I realize how bad my idea was. I thought maybe I would be showing up at a bar where older men would be drinking. This was entirely different.

It seemed to be some sort of casino, but not a normal one; something told me there wasn't a lot of legal betting going on here. I walk in and get some weird looks because of my outfit. However, since it is Halloween and everyone was drunk, nobody bothers me.

The place was crowded, most of the girls are in elaborate costumes, but the men are, of course, doing the bare minimum as usual in T-shirts and jeans. Each table has a different game going on, while some were just drinking and yelling.

I look for Warner, and once I do, I recognize that he is with two of the guys from the bar. Another man sits at the table, one I would recognize anywhere—Warner's father.

The group speaks in hushed whispers, and Warner's eyes give nothing away. His arms are crossed, but as if he can feel my presence, he meets my gaze, and I know this was a mistake.

Warner looks infuriated and is walking straight toward me.

The crowd parts for him as he stalks toward me, immediately quieting at the sight of him fuming. All eyes follow his gaze and eventually land on me. 

I want to curl up and die.

When he reaches me, he firmly places his hand on the small of my back and pulls me toward him, guiding me away from the crowd. As we walk away from the gaping swarms of people, he leans down.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Juliet?" His eyes are blazing darkly. He looms over me, almost pressing me against him.

"Are you fucking stalking me? Are you out of your goddamn mind?" He breathes out, taking his eyes off me to collect his thoughts and calm down. "Do you know the kinds of people here? What the guys here would do to a girl like you?"

I step back, insulted and angered by his tone and the implication of what he's saying. A girl like me? What does that mean? I straighten and stand on my tiptoes, trying to look him in the eyes. "Sorry for being worried about you. You don't have a right to talk to me like this."

"Well, when you follow me to an illegal betting site, blissfully unaware of the danger you're putting yourself in. Do you know what it would fucking do to me knowing you got hurt because of me?" He says, raising his voice. I don't let myself think about his last comment about him caring about me. 

"No, Warner. You lied to me; I knew something was wrong, so I came to see. You don't get to spin this around on me. If you just told me the truth in the first place, I wouldn't have come."

"I didn't tell you for a reason, now leave" His green eyes have hardened, and he scans over the curious crowd before focusing back on me.

I don't answer, I search his eyes for the guy who gave me that dress earlier today, but his eyes have gained a far-off look.

"Leave." I don't know what was worse, having him tell me to leave or the fact that every single person in the room knew he was kicking me out. This was so embarrassing.

I harden my own gaze, zeroing in on his stoney expression. My throat burns with every fiery word I want to throw in his face. But it's not worth it. I just want to go home and get away from him.