Chapter 3

• "Who the hell do you think you are? Touching me like that? Taking advantage of me that way?" Annabelle spat at him, using anger to ward off the hurt she felt. She wasn't sure if she was more upset at herself for her willing submission to him or the fact that he took advantage of her in her frenetic state as a means of amusement while killing time.
• Or was it that she felt ashamed because she succumbed to his mind-blowing kiss and skilled fingers without even knowing his name? Something that she would never do under normal circumstances.
• The maddening fact was that she wasn't sure who she was more upset with, him or herself.
• He continued to observe her, his anger simmering, eyes glowering. "Really?" he scoffed at her, cocking his head to the side and rubbing a hand over his condescending smirk. She could hear the rasp of his stubble as his hand chafed over it. "That's how you're going to play this? Were you not participating just now? Were you not just coming apart in my arms?" He laughed snidely. "Don't fool your prim little self into thinking that you didn't enjoy that. That you don’t want more."
• He took a step closer to her, amusement and something darker blazing in the depths of his eyes. Raising a hand, he traced a finger down the line of her jaw. Despite flinching away, the heat from his touch reignited the smoldering craving deep in her belly. She silently castigated her body for its betrayal. "Let's get one thing clear," he growled at her. "I. Do. Not. Take. What's. Not. Offered. And we both know, sweetheart, you offered," he smirked. "Willingly."
• She jerked her chin away from his fingertips, wishing that she were one of those people who could say all the right things at all the right times. But she wasn't. Instead, she thought of them hours later and only wished that she'd said them. She knew that she'd be doing that later, for she couldn't think of a single way to rebuke this overconfident yet completely correct man. He had reduced her to a mass of overstimulated nerves craving for him to touch her again.
• "That poor defenseless crap may work with your boyfriend who treats you like china on a shelf, fragile and nice to look at. Rarely used," he shrugged, "but admit it, sweetheart, that's boring."
• "My boy—" she stuttered, "I'm not fragile!"
• "Really?" he chided, reaching up to hold her chin in place as he looked into her eyes. "You sure act that way."
• "Screw you!" she jerked her chin from his grasp.
• "Ooooh, she's a feisty little thing." His arrogant smirk was irritating. "I like feisty, sweetheart. It only makes me want her that much more."
• Prick! She was just about to make a retort about what a manwhore he obviously was. That she knew about his "getting acquainted" with someone else down the hall not too long ago before moving onto her.
• She stare at him, the thought rattling around in the back of her head that he vaguely reminds her of someone, but she push it away. She's just flustered, that’s all.
• Just as she's about to open her mouth, from behind me she hear Caleb's voice calling her name. Relief floods her as she turn to see him standing at the end of the hallway, looking at her oddly. Most likely perplexed at her disheveled state.
• “Annabelle? I really need those lists. Did you get them?”
• “I got sidetracked,” she mumble. She glance back at Mr. Arrogant behind me. “I’m coming. I just … wait for me, okay?”
• Caleb nods at her as she turn to the open door of the storage closet and quickly grab scattered paddles off of the floor as gracefully as possible and shove them in the bag. She exit the closet and avoid meeting his eyes as she start to walk toward Caleb.
• She exhale silently, glad to be heading toward more familiar ground when she hear his voice behind me. “This conversation isn’t over, Annabelle.”
• Annabelle quickly reaches Caleb, her closest confidant and friend at work. Concern etches his boyish face as she loops her arm through his, tugging him back toward the party. Once they’re through the backstage door, she releases the breath she didn’t know she was holding and leans back against the wall.
• “What the hell happened to you, Annabelle? You look like a hot mess!” He eyes her up and down, “And does it have anything to do with that man back there?”
• It has everything to do with the man, she wants to confide in Caleb but for some reason holds back. “Don’t laugh,” she says, eying him warily. “The closet door jammed shut, and I was stuck on the inside.”
• He stifles a laugh and looks toward the ceiling to contain it. “That would only happen to you!”
• She pushes his shoulder in a friendly manner, relieved to be back on more familiar ground with someone. “Really, it’s not funny. I got panicked. Claustrophobic. The lights went out and it brought me back to the accident.“ Concern flashes in his eyes. “I freaked out, and that guy heard me yelling and let me out. That’s all.”
• “That’s all?” He questions, his eyes narrowing at her in suspicion for he has known her for too long.
• She nods. “Yes. I just really lost it for a minute.” She hates lying to him but for now, it’s her best course of action. The more adamant she is, the quicker he’ll drop it.
• “Well, that’s too bad because damn, girl, he’s fine.” She laughs at him as he wraps his arm around her in a quick hug. “Go on and freshen up. Take a breather, then we need you back out to mingle and schmooze. We’re about thirty minutes out from the start of the date auction.”
• She stares at herself in the bathroom mirror. Caleb's right, she looks like hell. She’s ruined a large portion of the painstaking preparation her roommate, Haddie, has done with her hair and make-up for this evening. She takes a paper towel and tries to blot at her makeup to repair the damage. The tears have left her amethyst eyes rimmed red, and she needs not wonder why her lipstick is no longer perfectly lining her lips. Pieces of her chestnut color hair are falling out of its clip, and the seam of her dress is horribly askew.
• She can hear the dull bass of the music on the other side of the wall. It plays background to the voices belonging to the hundreds of tonight’s potential donors. She takes a deep breath and leans against the sink for a moment.
• She can see why Caleb questioned what had really happened and if Mr. Arrogant had anything to do with it. She looks completely disheveled!
• She shifts her dress so that its sweetheart neckline sits correctly, adjusting her more-than-ample girls to sit properly. She smooths her hands over her hips where the fabric clings to her curves. She starts to put the wisps of hair that have escaped back into her clip but stops herself. The tendrils have returned to her naturally wavy state, and she decides that she likes the softened effect the curls have on her overall look.
• She reaches into her purse, which Caleb has brought her, and freshens up her make-up. She adds some mascara to her naturally thick lashes and reapplies her smudged eyeliner. Her eyes look better. Not great—but better. She puckers her lips, tracing her lipstick over the full M shape of them, rubs them together, and then blots them.
• Good enough. She’s ready to rejoin the festivities.