"I knew it the very first time I touched her. It was like coming home, only to no home I'd ever known." — Sleepless in Seattle
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Chapter 22
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Luke

Maggie looked fucking terrible.

That's what I'd claim if I were a liar.

I wasn't, though. I told the truth.

And, the truth was...

Maggie looked like a fucking angel. Like a luxury that money couldn't buy, nor touch. So magnificently breathtaking that the moment I saw her, I questioned why my eyesight had even been around this long without her in them.

It made me wonder if they could even fully take her beauty in by a glance alone. The answer was obvious: they couldn't; it wasn't possible.

I watched her from my spot at the table we had been at, earlier. I had panicked, and let her fall into anothers' arms. I wasn't even sure why I said what I said about her scars other than the fact that it was the truth. She hadn't even asked, but one doubtful expression from her, and I found myself spilling like a faucet.

Downing my third glass of champagne, I waved down one of the servers over for the umpteenth time, but since I tipped him a hundred every time, he didn't complain.

He offered a glass, but I grabbed the entire platter, and placed it down in front of me. No one else deserved this shit more than I did, right now.

I had Maggie in my arms. I had her, and for some fucked reason, I didn't want to let go. As disgusted as I wanted to feel just looking at her, it never happened.

Then, fuck me.

She looked up at me with those big green eyes of hers, and I thought my knees would give out from under me. As nervous as she had been of messing up, I was the one on the verge of a heart attack the longer I held her.

The moment she touched my scar, though, I was shocked at my own self.

No matter how many girls I fucked, I'd never, not once, let them, or anyone else touch my scars. Neither the one on my neck or my arm, but my neck was far more noticeable. If they did, I'd leave without a second thought to it.

But, Norris...fucking shit.

It was something I sometimes forgot even existed, until they caught the eyes of strangers, or things like that. All of my life, I had thought of the scars as monstrous. I never liked them, nor did I see any good in them.

Yet, when she touched them, I thought them good. When she looked at them, I thought them beautiful, not ugly. It was strange, and I felt like...

I shook my head to clear the thoughts. It was lust. It was simply lust. There were lots of that tonight.

Maggie had seen how badly just seeing her in that dress fucked with me, and of fucking course found it to be the funniest thing in the world. It wasn't to me.

I was more than glad that she didn't respond, though. If I would have heard a yes, there was no way in hell I would have stopped myself from pulling that car over, and taking her right there and then. I wouldn't have stopped until I had that smart ass mouth of hers screaming my name like a prayer. Consequences be damned.

There would be a couple of those tonight, it seemed. The most dire one was that tomorrow, I would have to pretend this shit didn't happen. That I didn't enjoy holding her hand, that I didn't laugh the hardest I ever had for the first time in my life tonight, that I didn't enjoy watching her toss back truffles and champagne like it was her job.

But I had. If I was asked to pick the best day of my life...

I fucking hated that it would be this one.

Aggravated, my fingers curled around the glass, the limb shaky, yet tense. Some of the cool champagne sloshed over the sides, but I paid it no mind.

I loosened the tie that seemed to restrain me from any type of relief, but it did nothing. I didn't think anything could help as long as she was standing in the same room as me, right now.

My eyes raised from the glass, and to where she stood. Except she was no longer there.

I stretched my neck until I found her. She wasn't too far away, just a couple feet, but she hadn't seen me, as well as the others. The girl was completely clueless.

I'd seen so many heads turn her way tonight, I had to refrain myself from beating them into the ground for even thinking they could catch a sight of her.

What the fuck am I talking about?

I shook my head at myself. This was Maggie.

She wasn't anything to me, and she never would be. We were just two people who were put in a bad situation. I only had to spend a year or two with her, then she and her smartass mouth would be out of my life forever.

My blood stung at the thought. A dread crept upon me until I felt my skin go cold at it. I had to push it back down, though. I was probably coming down with something or some shit, because there was no way in hell I'd miss Maggie.

She wasn't mine, and I wasn't hers. That wouldn't change. She could go, and fuck a different man right now, and I could go and fuck a different girl. Neither would have the right to say anything, because we had no hold over each other. We were free to do as we pleased, and neither of us were the other's concern.

My bones relaxed as I sipped the champagne. There it was. All I needed was a reminder of what was reality, and I was fine.

The fuck was I thinking?

Maggie was a brat, a smart-mouthed, unpredictable, impulsive hazard of a human. I wanted nothing to do with her that didn't involve my building.

A calm smile drifted across my lips as the champagne settled in my bones and mind, alike. Good.

My eyes drifted across the women in the building to further distract me. Half of them were married, and even more of them had bounced over to my table tonight with a suggestive tone. I'd take them up on it about now. I'd go and get my dick sucked, and all would be well in the world.

I ran my eyes over the woman with tits larger than could be. Blonde hair, long legs, nice thighs. Nah.

The next was already eying me, despite being seated next to her husband. Brunette, pretty eyes, and what looked like a unrestrained throat. Pass.

I continued on, but it was a fail. I rejected every set before I could even get a feel for them. It was no use.

I cursed my cock under my breath, finally downing the last glass of champagne from the platter. The fucker seemed to only work for the wrong woman.

I scanned the crowd for another server, but as soon as I found one, my eyes returned to Maggie. This time, though, she wasn't alone.

Miles, my dad's campaigner's son, was dancing with her now.

I lifted up from the seat so quickly, some of the champagne splashed onto my shoes, but I paid it no mind as I leaned closer to get a better view at what the fuck I was looking at.

Maggie was apparently Michael fucking Jackson now, waltzing without a care in the world. Her hand was in his, and the other was draped over his shoulder. Miles, the little cocky motherfucker, was eating this shit up. He had her hand in his, and the other was hanging right above her ass. I saw his hand press down just enough to be passed as normal before he said something to her to make her laugh.

She fucking laughed.

The fuck was so funny?

I narrowed my eyes as he tucked her hair behind her shoulder. As if he thought he had any right to touch her.

My jaw tightened so hard, the fucker hurt. My stomach fell to my feet, and for a moment, I wondered if my blood had turned venomous.

Just as I thought the shit couldn't get any worse, the son of a bitch leaned into her ear to say something, to which she laughed. Again.

Fuck this. She was my date.

I slammed the glass onto the table, raising up from the chair. I was going to find out what the fuck was so funny, so that we could all be fucking comedians.

The closer I saw them grow, the more something built in my body. My mind continued to warp until I saw red as I crossed the room so quickly, a new record must have been made for it.

Just before I l reached them, a hand tapped at my shoulder.

I jerked around, ready to rip the limb from whoever was attached to it. "What?" I snapped.

Caroline drew back in shock, before she got herself together, blue eyes meeting mine with intention. "Luke, I didn't know you'd be here, hun."

I cast a quick glance behind me to make sure that Maggie was still there. I turned back to the woman, who was practically drooling at my crotch. I willed myself to stop from telling her to kiss my ass.

"Most people didn't," I responded dryly. "Is there something you needed?"

"Well..." Her hand went to my shoulder, pretending to graze something off before her finger trailed the length of my arm. "I was thinking it was something we both needed."

I eyed her with a raised brow. Caroline was one of Beatrice's best friends from childhood. She was well in her 30s, and while her husband thought she was at a book club with Beatrice, she was actually riding my cock in her husband's yacht while he was at a meeting with my dad. I had just turned eighteen at the time, and was willing to screw anything. The thought of pissing Beatrice off too aided in those times. Caroline just so happened to be the one who had taken advantage of that.

I was nineteen now, old enough to recognize that it was wrong. I was capable of my own shit at the time, but she was the experienced adult. She was nearly four decades older than me, and still couldn't let the shit go.

I yanked my shoulder back from her touch. "Your husband looks pretty willing over there." I jerked my head to the man, who was pretending to be engaged in a talk, even though his eyes were on us. "Go talk to him about it."

Her expression fell into a defeated one as she turned to look at him. She faced me again with a pout that made her resemble Scooby-Doo. "Well...Alvin doesn't understand—"

Oh, fuck this. Miles was probably tongue-deep in Maggie's throat by now. I'm ending this.

"He's your husband," I interrupted, my voice shot. "So bring that need to him." I jerked around before she could attest. I didn't want to hear shit else, right now.

I searched the spot Maggie had been in, but tonight, the fucking girl was like The Flash.

Fuck. I contemplated on going back, and cursing Caroline out for causing this, but I couldn't, right now. I needed to find Maggie, and go home.

The crowd had thickened, but without the ambition of anything other than finding Maggie, I pushed and shoved until I found her.

I recognized her simply by the back of her dress. This time, though, it wasn't Miles who was standing in front of her, which brought me a wave of relief for only a second. Because when I recognized the fucker that was grinning down at her, I nearly burst into flames.

Vance.

Panic seized every part of my body, building and tumbling over the rage. Despite my anger, I was more worried for her. And, I was even more worried for Vance if he didn't take his eyes off of her in the next couple seconds.

They were far from me, but I was sure I could reach them in a matter of seconds. Just as I started, I felt someone else grab my arm.

Not again.

I jerked around, my patience long gone. "I told you to leave me the hell alone, you used up, loose pudding cup excuse of a pussy, bitch."

My dad stared back at me in shock, his lips parted. My own expression matched his before I quickly shook out of it.

He narrowed his eyes at me, searching the crowd for anyone who could have heard me. I'd earned several looks from the closest people, but most went back to their business. The others continued to look on without any shame, though.

My dad noticed it too, of course. He was always one step ahead.

"Luke," he said in an eerily calm tone, painting a smile on. "Do we need to step outside for some air?"

I could feel the imprint of his fist against my skin before it even happened, already. "No," I rushed out before I corrected myself. "No sir, we don't."

The onlookers turned away at the lack of entertainment, and tended to their own shit. My dad caught on, letting his smile remain just for a second, before he squinted his eyes at me.

"Good," he said, his voice stringing along the threat in a hiss. "Because I'd sure as hell hate to bloody up my suit for you, boy."

I nodded steadily, pulling any fraction of traceable emotion from my expression. I settled on one: discipline. "Yes sir."

His glare raked over me in discontent. "Have you apologized to your brother yet?" he asked me. "I haven't heard a mention of it from neither him or Beatrice."

I had to refrain from rolling my eyes. "I haven't seen him, yet."

"Mhm," he hummed, taking a step closer. I willed myself to remain still; he wouldn't hit me in front of everyone simply for his own good. "Well, why didn't you pass the message through your mother? She would have more than happy to give it."

"She's not my mother," I blurted out before I could think it over. I froze as the gravity of my own words settled in. Shit. "I mean, no. No sir, I didn't want to bother her."

My fathers' eyes narrowed at the first part; it was too late to correct it, now.

"You know." His hand went to my coat jacket, pretending to clean it off. "Beatrice told me about this...Miss Norris, isn't it?"

My head bobbed on its own, despite the tick of anger in my blood. I didn't like her name on his lips. It made me want to tear them from his body before he could even get the pronunciation started on it.

His brows scrunched at my shirt. "Beatrice told me that she has quite the tongue on her, as well. That she smart-mouthed her. Is that true?"

I should have known Beatrice would go back, and make Maggie's comment bigger than what it was. I'd scolded Maggie about it, but in truth, I'd found myself chuckling at it. No one had ever responded to Beatrice's bullshit before, but Maggie had no filter, no matter who she was talking to.

As humorous as it was, though, I didn't want my father to put it on Maggie. He could do what the hell he wanted to me, but I'd take my first swing at him if he ever grazed a hair on her head.

I held my posture. "I told her to say it," I responded with a calm expression. "It was simply a joke. Nothing more. I'll apologize to Beatrice the moment I see her." I'd rather do anything but that, but I'd push my pride aside to stop my dad from reaching Maggie.

My mind was ringing. Why the fuck was I being so protective of her? She'd probably smack the shit out of me if she heard me say these type of things. I just couldn't will myself to stop, though.

I could tell my father didn't believe me, but his ego made him. His expression darkened for only me to understand. "Really now?"

I nodded, breathing in a tight patch of air as I awaited the result. Maybe he'd make it quick this time, considering the setting. I had the first aid in the car, so I was prepared.

His hand released my suit, and instead crept to the back of my neck. My skin crawled under his touch, but it soon shifted into a painful sensation as he tightened his hand until his nails were digging into my skin.

I hardened my gaze to stop from reacting. Several people glanced our way, and my dad caught onto it.

He pulled back, grinning at me. "Well, we love jokes don't we, Luke?" His hand remained, tightening and tightening until I was sure I felt blood. "Don't we?"

"Yes sir," I managed to hiss out.

His trophy grin remained until the people looked away. To pass it off, he pulled me back in, resembling a hug to the outsiders. To me though, he was doing the thing he always had. Punishing me.

This was the move he always used when we were in public. It was harmless to the others, but to me, it was him warning me of the consequences the moment we were out of view from the cameras. If I ticked him off enough sometimes, he'd go through with the hits, then claim that I was sick to the guests, and had to go home, early. It was all routine.

His hand drew back enough to go to the back of my head. "Follow me to the back of the building," he hissed into my ear, pulling at the strands of hair until I bit back a hiss. "Since you want to be a little pain in my ass, I'm going to show you what happens when you don't listen." At my sigh of pain, he released me with a small shove.

His jaw hardened before he swept a hand down his suit. He motioned for me to do as he said with a flick of the head.

I pushed back every ounce of foreseeable pain, and turned. I'd never done this shit, not once, in my entire nineteen years. I'd never not taken the beatings the moments they were threatened. But, now, none of that shit mattered.

I didn't care how bad I'd be punished for defying him; I wasn't leaving Maggie alone with a rapist. I'd accept the consequences when they came, and with my dad, they'd come hard and soon, but I'd take a million to stop Vance from touching her.

I glanced over to where I last saw her. My eyes searched for Maggie, but at the empty spot, my blood chilled. She was gone, and so was Vance.