Girl in Gold

Chapter 12 - Amber Marigold

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CHAPTER 12

Amber Marigold

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Amber was stone-cold sober. Even so, Blake's words nearly made her stumble like a drunk. Shit, she thought. Shit, shit, shit.

He was dressed the same as usual, pretentious leather jacket and black jeans. The death glare was new though.

Owen turned back to Amber, mouth parted as he stared. Honestly, these boys had no right to be shocked about her lying to them. The only regret she had was them finding out about it.

"Bowmen, you better get the heck out of here," Owen slurred, turning back to Blake with some effort. The alcohol was working.

Amber made herself look off balance as well, not even sure if the charade was worth it anymore. Her efforts during the night were all but ruined by that damned cyng of the West.

"It's neutral ground, Rhodes. You can fuck right off," Blake shot back, walking over to them with controlled steps.

"You want another fight?" Owen asked, stepping between Amber and him, but that only got the cyng of the West to walk faster.

"Get. Away. From. Her."

"You have no say over Goldie out here."

Amber opened her mouth to yell that nobody had a say over her, regardless of the location, but Owen took two wobbly steps and threw a swing. Blake lunged and closed the gap between them, stopping the wide hook and countering with a straight punch. A crack came from Owen, and he staggered, held onto the wall, then slid to his knees. He held his nose.

"Prick," came his muffled curse.

"You're coming with me, Cariño," Blake said, grabbing Amber and swinging her over his shoulder.

Not this again! She started kicking and swinging.

"LET ME GO!" she yelled, her view limited to his legs and back. She tried and failed at reaching behind to ensure her dress was not flashing her ass to the whole world.

"The made-up boyfriend thing? That was smart," Blake said like he was not manhandling her.

"Helps if the audience got their heads up their asses," she retorted, dropping the slur she was keeping up. "Also, Owen has my phone! I need to get my phone!"

One of Blake's goons, a tattooed guy with bleached hair and a studded choker, whom Amber already forgot the name of, passed them.

"Get the girl her phone," Blake instructed.

'The girl' did not stop struggling. It took a great deal of restraint to not be serious about the matter and break his neck. Murder was not quite justified in the current situation. Not yet. They got downstairs, and Bleached Guy handed her phone back to her.

"Thank you," she smiled and promptly punched him in the face.

Her knuckles stung, and she bit Blake's shoulder. He yelped and let go, dropping her to her feet. Amber dived for the crowd, and as she glanced back, he was already looking for her. Squeezing her way past drunk bodies, she got to the dance floor and tried blending in with the blue-washed crowd, dancing with whoever. Eyes alert. She switched partners left and right, avoiding Blake like a plate of fish. The bastard knew of her fake boyfriend, and her defensive pawn just got taken by a knight.

"That's quite the dance moves you have," a voice whispered in her ear, a flash of red strobe lights swallowing the crowd.

"Thanks," she replied, swapping partners again without a glance.