The Key Ch. 01: Should've Known

I cringed inside, knowing he was already in a mood. Hoping to placate him, I smiled at him in the mirror while putting an earring in. "Just you. You know that."

"Better be," he warned, with a raised eyebrow while he eyed me over in the mirror.

"Do you like it?" I asked, turning around to face him with a nervous half-smile.

"Mmm," he voiced his approval and stepped closer, wrapping his arms around me and giving my ass a squeeze. His eyes took on his typical seductive look while his hand slunk up my back and latched onto the zipper. "You look yummy...but I would definitely like this dress better on the floor."

"No, no!" I scolded playfully, twisting out of his arms. "You are the one who is in a big hurry, so we better go. We wouldn't want to keep Russ and the guys waiting any longer."

Grabbing my I.D. and credit card sleeve out of my day purse, I tucked it into my small evening purse with my cell phone. After locking the door behind us, I dropped my key into my purse, as well.

We arrived at the club close to 9 pm. Mike had told us he was bringing a date—a girl I didn't know—and they were on the dance floor when we met up with Russ and Craig at our usual lounge area. They had Rick's standard—a double Fighting Cock Bourbon, neat—waiting for him.

Apparently, I was going to have to fend for myself and get my own drink. I sighed and swallowed my irritation, not wanting to make waves. Tucking my purse under my arm, I leaned up to Rick's ear to let him know I was going to the bar for a drink.

When I approached the bar, I received several admiring looks. Two smiling men allowed me to squeeze between them to edge in at the bar. I raised my hand to get the bartender's attention. Over the next few minutes, I tried several times, but my efforts were all in vain. Either I wasn't tall enough, or I wasn't making enough noise to warrant his attention.

I felt breath on my neck, causing me to gasp in surprise, and heard a masculine voice in my ear. A warm, resonant voice with a slight accent that I couldn't place.

"Excuse me, miss. If you stand there looking pretty all night, you're sure to get some attention, but I don't think it'll be the barkeep's. Shall I call him for you?" the voice offered.

When he spoke, a thrill zinged down my spine, and my pulse quickened. I had to admit, it might have been the sexiest voice I'd ever heard. I turned slightly to look over my shoulder, and the moment my gaze met his, I knew I wouldn't be able to look away. His eyes were captivating. Their color was like the sea, deep green with blue and gold flecks. They seemed to twinkle when the corners of his heart-shaped mouth curled up into just a hint of smile.

I felt my eyebrows raise and my lips part while I gaped at the handsome stranger. His light chuckle snapped me out of my daze.

"I'm sorry..." My cheeks felt like they were on fire. Ohmygod. Why was I apologizing? Just stop talking, Keira.

The man's lips slid into a wide grin; he had surely noticed the color in my cheeks. Putting his fingers to his lips, he let out a loud whistle and threw his hand up in the air, his index finger raised as if to say, 'Here!' Well, if that didn't get the bartender's attention. In a matter of a few seconds, this man had managed to accomplish what I hadn't in just as many minutes.

"What'll it be?" the bartender asked, looking at the man next to me.

I glanced at the bartender and then back at Mr. Tall-dark-and-handsome, who was looking down at me, towering over my five-foot-seven frame by at least five inches.

"Please get the lady whatever she would like," he answered smoothly, though his gaze was still on me.

With difficulty, I tore my eyes away and looked to the bartender. "Thank you. A wet vodka martini, shaken, straight up with a twist of lime, please."

I saw the bartender's eyebrow and lip quirk up, presumably at my very specific order, and then he went to work on my drink.

"Hmm. A girl who knows what she wants," the velvety voice next to me said with a note of admiration.

I felt the blush return to my cheeks. What was it I wanted?... Glory be! What had come over me?

The bartender delivered my drink, and I set down a ten and a five to cover my drink and the tip. I glanced sidelong through my eyelashes and softly thanked the green-eyed stranger before I took a sip of my drink and walked away. My pulse had almost returned to normal when I arrived back at the lounge area where Rick and his friends were seated on a bright, multi-color, vinyl sofa.

I smiled at him, taking a seat in a wooden chair to his right.

He was silent for a moment while he sat there glaring at me, his lips set in a hard line. "Took you long enough. Where were you?"

I sighed. What was he going to find fault with this time?

"I told you I was getting a drink. See?" I held up my martini. "It was hard to get the bartender's attention." Maybe I'd overdone the sarcasm a little. Cool it, Keira. He's already worked up.

"Yes, I saw your friend wave him over," Rick said with a sneer.

"What friend?" I knew full well who he meant, but I tried not to let my uneasiness show. But inside—my stomach lurched, realizing he'd seen the exchange with the stranger at the bar—or at least part of it.

"Don't be stupid, Keira," he scoffed. "The guy who was next to you. The one smiling at you like a snake."

Swallowing the lump that had suddenly formed in my throat, I said as nonchalantly as possible, "Oh—I don't know him. He saw that I was having trouble getting the bartender's attention, so he called him over for me."

Dealing with his accusations was wearing on me. And I was slightly off-kilter after my encounter at the bar. Normally, I would have bitten my tongue, and probably should have. I knew better. But that night, circumstances being what they were, I wasn't so careful when I returned Rick's sneer. "I wouldn't have had to go up to the bar if someone had bothered to order a drink for me."

Oops. Wrong thing to say.

He latched onto my wrist, twisting it while he squeezed. Nearly pulling me out of my chair, he jerked me toward him, his lips brushed my earlobe while he hissed, "Don't be fucking smart-assed with me, damn it!"

The lump in my throat grew bigger. I hated when he got like this. He had already had a double bourbon and been in a snit before we left my house. His friends obviously hadn't lightened his mood, and with his second double bourbon nearly gone, I should have kept my mouth shut. I backpedaled, trying to sweet talk him. "I'm sorry. I was just annoyed that I had to spend so much time at the bar when I would rather have been sitting here with you."

Rick's lips quirked. I couldn't read his expression, but he said nothing more. He released me, shoving my arm away. Russ and Craig hadn't even seemed to notice out little exchange.

I sucked in a sigh of relief. Rubbing my wrist, I shook my head back and forth ever so slightly while silently chastising myself for my little explosion.

Turning his back to me, he joined in the conversation with Russ and Craig, leaving me out, as though it were a punishment. It was laughable. As if I wanted to talk about their cars and sport, anyway.

I decided to text my friend, Wynne. Before leaving school that afternoon, we had made tentative plans to go shopping next week, and I wanted to see if she had a day in mind. I tried to convince her to come and join me at the club, but she was already snuggled in with her boyfriend. After we decided on Wednesday for shopping and lunch, I shoved my cell phone back into my little purse.

My eyes wandered around the room. I smiled, watching Mike dance with his date. I loved to dance. I crossed my arms and sat back in my hard, wooden chair, sulking. Rick used to dance with me, but it had been a long while since he had. His friends always seemed to take precedence when we were at the club. That night wasn't turning out to be much of a celebration of my last day of work for the school year.

Looking around the room, I skimmed over the faces at the bar and realized with a start that I was looking for someone in particular. But he was not among the patrons along the counter. The crashing of billiard balls brought my attention to the pool table that was a short distance from where I sat. I smirked, watching the two men play. Neither one had much skill. If I were in different company maybe I would go over there and show them how it was done.

Moving on, my eyes swept over the crowd, a sea of smiling faces. And why wouldn't they be? Most people came to the club to have fun. With a sigh, I went back to watching the dance floor. Something in the far-right corner stuck out, drawing my attention. There, I saw a man standing stock-still among the people moving to the beat of the music around him.

I drew in a breath when I realized it was the stranger I had encountered at the bar earlier, and his eyes were trained on me. He sent me a provocative smile from across the room, so suggestive that it caused my heart to thrum, and I felt my body flush—across my chest and up my neck, my ears catching fire. I was so flustered that I couldn't help the grin that formed on my own lips. What on earth had come over me?

We'd been staring for far longer than was proper, so I dropped my gaze, smoothing my hands over the chiffon skirt of my dress just to give my nervous hands something to do. Yet, I felt compelled to look back at him. But when I raised my eyes to where he had been standing, he was gone. I scanned the dance floor and surrounding area. He was nowhere to be seen.

Apprehensively, I glanced at Rick to see if he'd caught any of that exchange, and was relieved when it appeared he hadn't. I leaned in toward the guys, pretending to be interested in their conversation. But, in my mind, I was sighing and rolling my eyes. To be honest—I didn't enjoy the company of his friends much, despite the amount of time we spent with them on the weekends. Their conversations were a bore, and they shared none of my interests. There were many nights when I sat there without participating in their conversation or uttering a single word.

After close to an hour, I could bear no more. Grabbing my little purse, I excused myself to use the restroom. I took my time, dreading the mundane discussion I was destined to return to. When I thought I had dragged out the time as long as I could, I headed back to the lounge area.

The club had gotten mobbed in the two hours since we had arrived, and navigating around the sea of people was difficult. I wove through where there were openings and found myself passing near the bar where there seemed to be less of a crowd. That didn't seem to matter, however, because I was knocked into from behind. I went hurtling forward, bumping into someone from the side and spilling his drink on his trousers.

"Oh, my gosh! I'm so sorry!" I apologized, looking mortified at the mess on his pant legs.

When I looked up, I came face-to-face with those captivating sea-green eyes and a kind smile. I felt my stomach flip and the blush return to my cheeks while I stared up at him. I cursed under my breath at the effect this man was having on me—again.

No wonder. Not for the first time that night, I noticed how very attractive he was. He had off the charts sex-appeal. There was a masculine elegance about him—in the way he carried himself and even in the way he held his, now empty, glass. And his smile... I was sure it could make any woman swoon. Apparently, I was no exception.

Above that gorgeous smile was a mustache and goatee, trimmed short, and a thin line of facial hair running from his long sideburns to his chin, defining his strong jawline of his chiseled diamond-shaped face. His refined Roman nose, slender and straight, complimented his long-lashed, almond-shaped eyes, which were set below slightly curved, manicured brows. He wore his chocolate-colored hair side-parted, medium in length on top, and cut closer on the sides and back, perfectly accentuating its natural waviness.

I can only imagine the look on my face, as I stared—yet again—and his smile faded to a look of concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his fingers barely grazing my cheek. He seemed unphased about to the fact that his beverage had been spilled and that his thighs were wet with its contents. Rick would have been furious.

"I—I'm fine. I just...your drink. I'm sorry. Let me get you a new one."

I raised my hand to flag the bartender. But before I got his attention, the man placed his palm on my forearm and gently lowered my arm. I turned to him, a quizzical look on my face. He beamed that smile of perfect white teeth at me, the corners of his eyes crinkling the same as the corners of his mouth.

He leaned into my ear and said in his velvety voice, "That won't be necessary." Only then did he drop his hand from my arm.

"Oh... Are you sure? I feel bad that I spilled your drink and—"

"You could hardly have helped it, being pushed from behind."

All I could reply was, "Yes...well..."

I couldn't tear my gaze away from him and his never left mine. It was intense like we were both under a spell, mesmerized by the other.

Just then, he leaned in, placing his hand just below my shoulder blade while he spoke into my ear, "I hope it's not too bold of me. But I would be remiss if I didn't tell you—that you—are stunning."

Though he removed his hand from my back, he remained standing close. If I swayed slightly, my chest would bump into his. His compliment and his closeness were unnerving. My pulse was beating frantically in my neck, and I felt a blush roll over me again. How many times does that make this evening?

There was a mischievous smirk on his face and one eyebrow arched. I'm sure he was noticing the effect his statement had on me. He leaned in once again, whispering, "That color looks good on you." When he spoke, his breath tickled my neck.

I gasped, a bolt of electricity zipping down my spine and igniting a fire in the pit of my belly. Was he referring to my dress or the blush on my cheeks? I just stood there, his eyes holding mine. I'm not sure what would have happened if I had stayed there a moment longer, but I finally came to my senses.

Taking a step back, I drew in a deep breath. "Um...thank you for, uh...the compliment. I have to get back," I stammered.

It might have been my imagination, but I thought his smile seemed to fade just a little when he said, "Of course. Have a nice evening."

I threaded my way back to Rick and his friends. The smile that had been on my face since my encounter with my stranger fell away when I saw the look of disgust on Rick's face. When I neared him, he stood, grabbed my forearm forcefully and jerked me up against him, twisting my arm behind my back and holding it uncomfortably tight. His other arm wound around my waist keeping me pressed snugly against his hips.

"Ouch, Rick! You're hurting me," I protested, wiggling to try to loosen his grasp.

"Mmm," he hummed. Then he continued, "Everything go alright in the bathroom, Keira?"

"Fine. Let go!" I demanded.

"Shut your fucking mouth," he sneered quietly. He may have been fuming, but he was cunning enough not to want to attract attention. "I saw your little escapade over by the bar. Are you fucking him?"

"What?!"

I stared at him in disbelief.

"You heard me," he spat.

"That's insane! I was pushed, and I spilled his drink on him. I apologized and offered to buy him a new one," I tried to explain.

"That is not what I saw," he seethed through clenched teeth.

"I don't know what you think you saw, but—Ow!" He twisted my arm tighter.

My heart was beating fast and my stomach was in my throat, but for a whole different reason than moments before. Before, Rick's jealousy and controlling behavior was annoying, and certainly not ideal. But that moment—was the first time I'd felt really afraid. Could he—break my arm?!

"Oh, really?" he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "We. Are. Leaving." With each of those last three words, his voice deepened. Then he stalked off, pulling me by my arm so forcefully that I stumbled along behind him.

I thought he would calm down once we were outside, but no. I saw surprised at how quickly he stalked down the street to his car after how much he'd had to drink. As we approached his Mustang, he blipped the remote to unlock the doors. He opened the passenger door with such force, that I flinched, and then he was shoving on my back to push me into the car.

"Rick, let me drive." My voice was shakier than I'd hoped.

"Not on your life. Get in!"

Normally when we left the club, he would toss the keys to me because he'd had too much to drink. But not that night.

I was on edge the whole ride back to my house. Rick sped through the city, even passing on a double line a couple of times. His ability to maneuver through the streets was impressive, considering how much he'd had to drink. I thought maybe the twenty-minute ride would give him some time to cool down, but the anger etched on his face and the tight, straight line of his mouth, remained throughout the car ride.

When his car jolted to a stop at the curb in front of my place I breathed a sigh of relief. Rick nearly leaped from the car and was around to the passenger side by the time I got my door open. He grabbed my wrist and yanked me out of the car, forcefully shoving the car door shut. I nearly fell because I barely had time to gain my footing before he was dragging me down the sidewalk and up the few stairs to the front door.

The full magnitude of his anger was obvious by that point. My insides were shaking and my nerves were frayed. "Rick... I don't understand why you're so angry with me. I—"

"You don't understand?" He chuckled menacingly, then snarled, "I saw you nearly throw yourself at that fucking guy, Keira!"

"That's not what happened!"

"The hell it isn't! I saw the way you looked at him. And I saw that fucker—touch you." He sounded like he was spitting venom when he said those last two words.

Releasing my wrist, he shoved me into the door and snatched my purse out of my hand. He dug around, pulled my key out, and slid it into the keyhole.

Panic rolled in my stomach and my heart began to pound. While Rick fished around in my purse, I tried again, "No, Rick. I—I got—shoved, and—and he was steadying me."

He uttered an annoyed grunted. When he opened the door, he pushed me inside, slamming the door behind us.

I could hear the desperation in my voice while I tried to reason one more time, "I—I don't—know him! I swear! I promise—I promise there's only you!"

He was standing with his hands on his hips, looking menacing, but he said nothing.

My throat felt dry. I needed a drink desperately. Nervously, I turned to walk to the sink.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Rick muttered from behind me.

I swallowed hard but didn't turn around. "I need some water," I replied, trying to sound calm, though the waver in my voice gave me away.

After filling the glass and lifting it to my lips, I glimpsed over the edge of the glass at Rick trying to assess the situation. While he wasn't breathing fire anymore or moving about in such a threatening way, the tension was thick in the room. His body language and the dark, contemptuous expression on his face told me he was still angry.

While he stood there scrutinizing me, he unbuckled his belt and pulled it through the loops with one fluid whoosh, dropping it to the floor with a clank.

I jolted when it hit the floor, nearly sloshing my water over the edge of the glass.