Entangled With The Mafia

Chapter 17: Savior

Amelia

I incline my head in greeting.

I can't imagine what the f**k it is this man wants from me. He's smiling at me like a fox, and I can feel every hair on my body stand. Elizabeth has turned away from me and is now deep in conversation with the woman beside her. I don't know why she detests me; I'm just an employee. I'm sent on errands, and I serve only as entertainment to their clients. I'm not a threat to anyone in this room.

Or, depending on how you look at it, I'm a threat to everyone.

"Huxley, sit with us." The only empty seat is beside Mr. Pascual. I should've recognized the dark, bushy hair. I would never have tried to get a better look at the man. I sit stiffly in the chair. He glances at me as I sit, but I don't meet his eyes.

Damien says to Mr. Pascual, "How long will you stay?"

"Oh," I feel him look at me. "With good company, I could stay much longer. Is that not so?"

Damien raises his glass in acknowledgment.

Meanwhile, I'm practically trembling. Having this man so near me is distressing. I shove my phone carefully back into my clutch. Why are my hands shaking? I have to control myself, especially around them.

"So, Miss Huxley. Are you enjoying yourself?" Mr. Pascual is asking. I don't even look at him. "Yes." "And did you come accompanied by anyone?" "I came with Mr. Keller."

He turns to Damien. "I didn't know you invited your employees to your birthday. How old are you now, by the way? 30?"

Damien frowns. "I invited Miss Huxley because she's not like other employees. She's different from the others." I'm stunned to hear this. He's never said this to my face. He doesn't have to lie. I know why I'm here. He invited me here because of Mr. Pascual. All that talk about gratitude was pure and absolute bullshit.

"Yes," Mr. Pascual glances at me. "Different indeed."

I keep watching his hand. Whenever he moves it, I flinch. I don't know what I'll do if he touches me again in front of all these people. All I know is I will not be used as an object he pets when he's contemplating something. That will never happen again.

Mr. Pascual turns to me. "Would you like a drink, Miss Huxley? Or should I call you by your first name? What is it again?"

"Yara."

"Yara," he repeats. He says it in the most disgusting way possible. I'm glad it isn't my real name. "Would you like a drink?"

I shake my head. "No, thank you."

He turns to Damien, and they start talking about miscellaneous things. The party, trips to Argentina, and business these days. He got close to touching my knee once, but I shifted my leg, so he touched the chair instead.

I have to think of a good excuse to get away from him. I look around once, and frankly, I don't believe that man is here. This is not the place to find him. Devon was wrong.

Bathroom. Is there any around here? I don't think so. It's a perfect excuse to leave. Besides, I saw some people having to go out, so it must be somewhere out there. I don't know precisely where, but I guess I will have to wander these halls until I find an escape. If I could just stay holed up in a room until this party ends, I'd be content. Anything is better than staying here next to Mr. Pascual and his wandering hands.

I should have rejected the invitation and made up an excuse. I should've quit and gone back home to live my simple life. My hopes of getting that name are growing slimmer with each passing day. I'm making no progress, and Devin guaranteed me that I'd be in and out in a month, tops. I've done everything right. I never faltered once. I allowed myself to be groped and disrespected. What could I have done differently?

Anyway, it's time to go. I better do it now that they're quiet because getting up and leaving will be seen as disrespectful, and Damien is my boss. I stand, "Excuse me. I have to go to the bathroom."

Mr. Pascual stands. "I'll accompany you. In my country, no young lady wanders about on her own. Especially when there are so many strangers around."

I grit my teeth. He's flashing all of his. I'm trying to get away from him, and he's trying to come with me. What kind of bullshit is this? I need to get rid of him. I start to reject his offer, "Mr. Pascual—"

"Will accompany you, Huxley," Damien interjects and finishes the sentence for me. "If he wishes to accompany you, he can do so."

I stare at Damien. He's smoking his cigar and watching me with an unreadable expression. Ethan and his escort are watching me. Only Elizabeth isn't. Damien taps his cigar. "Besides, you don't know the way."

Without another word, Mr. Pascual follows me out of the room. I walk ahead of him, and he lingers behind. The doors are wide open, so I walk out. I turn to my left, but there's a dark corridor. No lights are on, just a little from the party. Mr. Pascual places a hand on my shoulder. "The bathroom is just down there. I know because I've been here countless times when Damien's father was still alive."

I gulp. I have a feeling that he's lying. Still, I start walking, and he's right by my side. We walk down the narrow, dark corridor. There are some doors on my right, but they're all closed. I wonder why he didn't switch the lights on, but I don't think I want to know the answer.

I feel his hands on my lower back, and I flinch. I step away from him. "Don't," I warn him.

"Why not? You weren't complaining last night. In fact, you enjoyed it."

"Just don't touch me." I can't even see his face. I can tell he's towering over me, but I can't see anything else. I feel his hand on my breasts, and instinctively, I slap it away. That makes him angry.

He grabs me by my shoulders and pushes me against the wall. I drop my clutch and forcefully push him away, but he's taller and stronger than me. Even though he's in his fifties, he's got the advantage. My 5'4 frame is no match for him. I open my mouth to scream, but he covers it with his large palm, and the sound is muffled.

"Shh. No one will hear you here. Not with that loud music. What's the matter? You were very cooperative last night."

Last night. Last night was a mistake. I should never have allowed that to happen. I bite the flesh of his palm, and he retracts his hand. "Let go of me!"

He wraps a hand around my neck. "You're making this more difficult for yourself." He grinds his hard-on against my stomach. "If you collaborate, this will end rather quickly."

He pulls my dress up, and I pound my fists against his chest. I use all my force and all my might. He manages to get a hold of my panties, and he rips them off. I felt the material stretch and tear. I feel the cold air on my bare legs and ass. I kick his legs, and he hisses. He tightens his hold on my neck. He unbuckles his belt. This sound, it's straight from hell. I press my legs together, and when he realizes this, he slaps me across the face. It stings and renders me stunned for a moment.

"Mr. Pascual," a voice in the dark says. He stops his movements. I smell the stench of the cigar. I turn to the voice, breathing hard. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Go back to your party, boy. This is no concern of yours."

"That's where you're wrong," Damien approaches us. I see only his silhouette, not his face. It's too dark for that. "She's my employee. And you will get your hands off her if you don't want trouble."

Mr. Pascual scoffs. "You must think I fear you. You're mistaken. You're not half the man your father was. You'll never be. You're just a spoiled boy who wore his daddy's suits and now thinks he's a man. Go suck your mother's t**s, Keller."

Damien takes a drag of his cigar. The end burns bright red in the dark. "Don't make me prove you wrong, Eduardo. I'm no longer the boy who used to sit on your lap. I will have you killed if you disrespect me ever again."

Mr. Pascual takes his hands off me. I pull my dress down and look around for my torn panties. I find them and shove them in my clutch. Tears sting my eyes, and I let them fall.

Mr. Pascual's voice is a low and threatening rumble. "You'll regret this."

"So will you."

I hear Mr. Pascual walk away. I wipe my tears swiftly. When his footfalls recede, I finally breathe. The memory of his invasive touch remains on my skin. I feel his hands on my neck even though he's gone.

"I want to go home," I say, and a sob escapes me. I cover my mouth. I don't even know which home I mean. He takes another drag of his cigar. I don't know how he can be this calm; I'm struggling to regain my composure.

"Of course," he says. "Meet Diego outside. He'll know what to do."

I walk past him. I know the way out. I start crying again. Before I get to the exit, I fall and bruise my knee. I stand back up and keep walking. I don't even know who this Diego is, but I assume it's this man with a scar on his cheek. If it's not him, I'll find whoever he is.

I want to go home.