He began to nod again, but stopped abruptly. His body tensed, and I looked up at him and his gaze was straight ahead, that smile of his gone. I didn’t have to look to know. I could feel Borden’s presence in the air. Even with the music on, I was sure we’d all fallen silent.

I slowly turned around. Standing half a room away, his body was tall and rigid. His blue eyes held mine for a moment that seemed to stretch for an eternity. He studied me, head to toe, and his jaw ticked and his anger rose. Then his gaze flickered to Graeme, and that simple gesture had Graeme turning to the stereo and shutting the country music off.

Uncomfortable silence followed, the kind that made your lungs work harder, as Borden quietly analysed the situation. I caught the sight of Hector feet behind him, amused at our situation, leaning his back against the wall. Jesus, he looked comfortable, like he’d been watching us for a while. Oh God, how long exactly? I looked back at Borden, and he was staring between Hawke and me, a face of raw disdain. I waited for him to say something. To ask us what the fuck we were doing. Never did I think his face would darken even more. I’d seen this look recently, but in small bursts and only fleetingly. It was that face he made when he felt extremely possessive of me, and it usually happened when a man stared at me inappropriately.

Finally he cocked his head in Graeme’s direction. “Are you drunk?” he asked him, his voice hard and low.

Graeme nodded calmly. “Damn close, Mr Borden.”

“Then you’re useless. Go home. Come back when you want to take your job more seriously. That includes you too, Hawke. Get the fuck out.”

While Graeme nodded and gathered his things to leave, Hawke stayed put, his body still, his face tense. “I had hardly one beer,” he said. “I’m fine.”

“I don’t care if you’ve had a teaspoon of that shit, I want you out.”

“You’re seriously sending me home?”

“What did I just say?”

“Borden,” I cut in softly, raising my hand up to him, “it’s my fault. I forced this on them –”

“Stay out of this, doll,” he interrupted, sharply, giving me an eyeful with that glare of his. “I’m talking to these men I entrusted to look after you, who think they can drink on the fucking job like I’m operating a clubhouse the likes of which Hawke grew up in.”

Hawke’s face split with anger, his lips twitching as he retorted, “This is fucked up, and you know it. I just told you I had just one beer –”

“And I just told you I don’t give a fuck.”

“Well that’s a piss poor excuse, Borden. I know what’s going on. You’re getting your panties in a twist because I’m harmlessly chatting to your girl? Honestly, after everything I’ve done for you, you’re going to stand there and question my intentions? Fuck you.”

Borden stepped closer, fisting both hands as he growled, “Don’t you fucking talk back to me. Remember who you answer to since I saved your fucking ass. Get the fuck out of here before I remind you every second of it, asshole. Come back when you’re not so fucking obvious about your wants around someone you can’t fucking have.”

In a blink of an eye, Hawke grabbed the bottle he’d been drinking and threw it hard across the room, past Borden and feet away from Hector. It smashed against the wall, pieces nailing Hector’s arms and face. He stepped away, shooting his older brother a look of shock. Hawke took two fevered steps in Borden’s direction, every inch of him trembling with fury, but Graeme, even in his drunken stupor, got to him in time. He thrusted himself in front of Hawke, shoving his chest back, repeatedly telling him to take a walk. Hector moved just as fast, grabbing at Hawke’s arm and pushing him in the direction of the entrance doors.

“Come on, brother,” Hector said. “It won’t end well if you don’t stop.”

“I didn’t fucking do anything,” Hawke growled.

Even then I knew Hawke, over six feet tall and built like a wrestler, could have overtaken them to get to Borden. But he let them push him out, all the while levelling Borden with a look that spoke of so many conflicted emotions: hate, betrayal, sadness. It was difficult to watch Borden barely react. He stared on with those empty hard eyes, fists still clenched at his sides.

“Fuck you, Borden,” were Hawke’s final words before he was out of there. Borden didn’t even blink, so coolly reserved until the second they were gone. Then he looked back at me, and I saw that face split. He moved to me quickly, practically knocking me back a step as he abruptly grasped me by the chin and forced me to look up at him. His grip was rough, but still his touch spoke to me, making me tremble. He studied my face, roaming every inch of it with nostrils flared, and I stared on back, my mouth slightly open, my gaze locked with his.

“You’re actually fucking drunk,” he spat out in disgust. “After everything you fucking said about your mother and why you don’t drink, you fucking picked up a bottle and decided to down that shit? What the fuck is wrong with you, Emma?”

What was wrong with me? I fumed, sputtering out, “I was tired of waiting around for you to finish getting your goddamn lap dance! Did you enjoy it?”

His face hardened. “Are you a fucking idiot when you drink? Are the circuits in your head broken or something? Because it must be the alcohol that’s fucked you up right now.”

“I’m not drunk. I know what I said.”

With an annoyed grunt, he dropped his hand and grabbed me by the arm, harshly, and dragged me fast across the club and to one of the private rooms. He opened the door and pulled me in, slamming it loudly behind him. The room was dim, and black leather couches occupied one side of the room, against a wall of red curtains – probably the seedy ones Hawke had mentioned earlier. Several small stages, each fit for one person with a pole running down it, occupied the other side of the room. It was like a cross between a party room and a mini strip club, and it looked high-end and posh, but still in that man-cave kind of way. It also smelled like fresh cologne – cologne that smelled of Borden – and perfume combined. My spine straightened as I realized this was the one he was in with Hector and the girls.

“You think I was getting a lap dance in here?” he growled, forcing me in front of him. His chest pressed against my back and his arm wrapped around my waist.