Relentless

Chapter 4

Nathan

I tilted my head back and groaned internally. Jack had cancelled his evening flight, something about his father needing him for the weekend. Whatever. The reason wasn't important. He wouldn't arrive for another day at the very least, that is, IF he came at all. Which left me alone with twelve recently graduated kids (yes - they were still kids in my opinion), and Willow.

I shifted uncomfortable in my seat.

"Christina said they've all settled in and are having dinner at the pool side." Ian, my chauffeur, looked at me from the rear view mirror. Christina was the house keeper to my father's Tahoe home and kept the place clean and ready for spontaneous visits, long or short.

It was over a week since my last interaction with Willow and yet I had thought of her more often than I would admit even to myself.

The image of her in that lavender dress played in my mind - the slope of her neck, the swell of her breasts, the slender curve of her waist. What I wouldn't give to put my mou—

I jerked the thought right out of my head. Something was wrong with me.

Owen pulled the car through the driveway. I got out the car and headed into the house.

Nothing could have prepared me for scene ahead.

Miles fucking Anderson was holding Willow.

Holding. Willow. In his arms.

About to ki—

"What the fuck is happening here?"

A dozen shock heads swiveled in my direction but I didn't spare them even a glance.

If that fucker didn't let go of her in the next five seconds I was going to punch the daylights out of him.

Fortunately - for Miles - Willow pushed out of his grasp and stared at me wide-eyed. She blinked, her gaze shocked and uncertain, and clearly very very drunk.

I strode ahead, ignoring the quiet looks of astonishment. I grabbed Willow's elbow and pulled her further away from Miles. In the next moment, all my brain function had ceased to exist. It was pure instinct.

I punched Miles across the face.

A round of gasps echoed through the room. I was ready to go for a second punch but Willow's hands grabbed my arm.

"Nate, bro, calm down." Alex rushed in, cautiously nudging me back.

Miles had fallen flat on the ground and was being helped by two of his friends.

"Didn't know you were coming." Alex continued trying to sound casual.

"It's my house, isn't it?" I bit between my teeth.

"Yes...yes of course." He shook his head in recollection.

All of them were drunk. Fucking perfect!

"It's nothing serious, Nate." Alex said, "We were just playing a game here."

My gaze drifted in his direction and I gave him a long hard look. "Forcing yourself on a drunk girl is a game now?"

"I wasn't forcing myself!" Miles shouted, indignantly. A dark bruise already forming on his left cheek. "According to the rules, which we all agreed on —"

"I don't give a fuck about the rules. If she's this drunk, you better keep your hands to yourself."

"Fuck you, Ryding. You're the last fucker to give me a lecture on moral standards. You go around fucking girls like it's a sport."