He looks into my eyes. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice is soft. He offers a reassuring smile before continuing to button up my jeans and adjusting my blouse that’s ripped and gaping open, pulling it across my chest to cover up my exposed bra.
The simple act making my heart swell a little. Under any other circumstances, my cheeks would be ablaze with embarrassment at my lack of clothing but it’s the last thing on my mind right now.
Kyle takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over my shoulders, wrapping an arm around me, tucking me into his body, shielding me. He leads me back towards the casino, only we bypass the main doors and instead walk down the side of the building and into a side entrance.
My mind races. It skips from one thing to another, unable to settle, tiny flashes of my life pass through my mind like I’m watching a trailer for a movie, little snippets of past events and memories replaying in my head. The next thing I know, we are in an elevator, and then outside a door, then inside what I presume is his suite.
Kyle guides me over to the couch and kneels down in front of me. He wipes my tears away with his thumb before placing both his hands on the couch, either side of where I sit. His crisp white shirt soaked and sticking to his body, splattered with specks of blood, droplets of rain falling from dishevelled, wet hair.
His hands trail over me, from my face to my arms and then to my hands. “Christ, you’re frozen.”
He stands up and pulls a blanket from the back of the couch and wraps it around my body before returning to sit in front of me, perching on the edge of the coffee table.
I glance at his hands that are red and bleeding. “You need ice,” I say, my voice shaky.
“I’m fine,” he says, dismissively. He leans forward, his eyes on my neck where I’m sure a fresh bruise has now appeared. His nostrils flare. He touches his fingers lightly to my neck, then slowly moves up to my face, to my cheek where I was hit.
I can’t deny how my body reacts to his touch, how his fingers leave a trail of fire on my skin as he touches me.
He shouldn't make me feel like this. My body shouldn't react to him like this.
He pulls away, rising to his feet, running his hands through his damp hair. “Fuck,” he mumbles. He begins pacing back and forth in front of me. “What the fuck were you doing in that alley?” he asks sternly.
“I got lost.”
“You got lost...” he repeats slowly, mockingly, shaking his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t you realise the danger you put yourself in by going down there?” He grits his teeth in anger.
“You think I went down there by choice? That I went down there on the off chance there’d be three drunk guys waiting for me? I wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for you!”
“So now it’s my fault is it? It’s my fault you just happened to get lost in a dark fucking alley, alone, at night, in Manhattan for Christ’s sake!”
“If you hadn’t tricked my dad into your stupid deal, I wouldn’t have stormed out and I wouldn’t have got lost. I wouldn’t have even been in your casino again if it weren’t for you. Fuck you!”
I get up, the blanket and his jacket falling from my shoulder as cross the short distance between us and slap him hard across the face. My palm stings from the contact.
He grasps my wrists in his huge hands and pulls me against him, his hard body pressed tightly up against mine as he towers over me. “Don’t hit me again,” he warns.
“What? You going to finish off what they started back in that alley? That’s what I’m here for after all isn’t it? I wouldn’t be surprised if those assholes weren’t part of your sick little game,” I say.
His grip on me loosens. “You think I would do that? Is that really what you think of me? That I’m some kind of monster?”
“Just seems a little convenient,” I snap.
“I may be a bastard Hayley, but I am not a... a rapist.” He flinches as he spits out the last word.
He lets go of my wrists and recoils from me, his face faltering. He leans against the wall behind him, staring up at the ceiling, his hands thrust deep into his pockets. “You know I didn't have to come after you, I didn't have to save you from those sick bastards, but you want to know why I did?”
I say nothing.
“Because despite what you think of me, I don’t agree with rape, I could never just turn a blind eye and keep on walking, it’s just not who I am. When I heard you scream...” His jaw clenches, exhaling deeply as though to calm himself.
A pang of guilt tugs at my insides at his words, at how his honesty pours through them.
An awkward silence hangs between us once again until I decide to speak.
I clear my throat. “How did you find me? Did you follow me?”
His eyes flick to mine. “I did. I came looking for you, a lady told me which way you went. I wanted to talk to you.”
“About what? About how you played my dad all so that you could have me, all for your little game?”
“I told you before, I know what I want,” he replies, coolly.
“So, what, you’re going to keep me locked up here for a week, knowing full well I don’t
