His Greatest Liability

chap 4

Rory

The air coming from my lips creates an imaginary noose that wraps around my throat and tightens until I can't breathe anymore.

"You have approximately," Nico glances down at the gold Rolex strapped around his wrist, though I'm not sure how he's able to read the time because it's completely dark in this corner he has me in. "Ten minutes to tell me what the fuck you're doing here." His voice, dipped in something sinister, penetrates my veins and the noose around my neck clenches.

I physically tense so hard that it hurts to think. "You can't..."

His grip on my arm suddenly tightens to the point of pain. I wince. "I can't what?" He steps closer, so much closer that I can smell his cologne. "Question you?" My stomach tightens as it presses against his, and all I wish for is some space. Every thought of mine is penetrated by his intoxicating smell and heavy gaze.

The tag on my dress chafes against my side as I try to come up with something good to say. My eyes quickly shift down to his arm as he holds me hostage against the wall, and I follow the dark ink that disappears up the rest of his white dress shirt. He has a sleeve. I assume it starts from his shoulder and stops at the rolex on his wrist.

I glare at him.

A little whorish, if you ask me.

"Yes." I bite out. "I don't see you questioning anyone else here."

"That's because I don't have a problem with anyone else in my club. When someone gets kicked out the first time, their will to live detours them from coming back." Dark annoyance bleeds through his lethally gorgeous features, but only for half of a second before that bored, stoic expression is back.

"Well maybe," I force out my voice through my compressed lungs. "I don't have one."

"Have what?" His laugh is cold, but somehow burns me alive all at the same time as it slides down my bones and seizes hold of my ribs. "A will to live?"

Instead of replying, I wiggle beneath his grip. "Let me go."

"Five seconds." He repeats coldly.

"I'm not a ch—"

"Four."

I press my lips together, more than a little aggravated. My fear, although loud and blinding, was fighting for room with the annoyance brewing beneath my flesh.

"Okay, then." Releasing his grip on my arm, Nico steps back.

Is he going to let me go?

The minute the thought graces my mind, Nico grabs me by the arm and spins me around to not so gently shove me forward in a silent command for me to walk. I sway on my feet. The high-heels laced up around my calves and bruising my ankles make it hard to move as quickly as I want to. "Start fucking walking, Victoria." My name sounds like a threat on his lips, and my spine jerks upright.

Victoria?

He knows me.

The feeling of something cold, presumably metal, pressing against my spine through my dress makes me freeze.

"Not a fan of repeating myself." He nudges me with the gun, and I straighten my stance, fear running through my veins like ice water. "So don't make me."

Swallowing, I move my feet. One foot in front of the other, slow and steady. Growing up with a man like Jeremiah, this isn't the first time I've had a gun aimed at me. The fear was familiar to me, believe or not, but for some odd reason, it was blooming into something larger— bolder, with Nico being the one holding the gun.