Downing Abbey – Chapter 5

(Abigail)

It was hard not to notice Luke’s palm rested so low on my back, his pinkie edging the line between back and butt. His free hand opened the door and he smiled before ushering me inside, and I had to assume we entered almost looking like a couple. A small smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth at the idea.

‘Christ Luke, are you sure we’re in a bar?’

The first thing I noticed was the smell, and this place didn’t smell like a bar. No hint of vomit or Axe undertone, instead, this place was all fresh leather and vanilla. The room was designed for mystery at the edges, with subdued wall lighting cupped by semi-opaque shades and massive leather booths that could swallow me up whole.

But my eyes were naturally drawn to the center of the room, the mingling station at the bar. Housed behind the counter was an eight-foot tall rack with rows and rows of assorted bottles and a gargantuan, crystal chandelier illuminated the entire island. Let me repeat. There was a fucking *chandelier* in the middle of this bar.

This was a business meeting, but we both knew it was much more. None of my first dates ever took place in bars that looked like they belonged in Bond movies, but none of them ever involved Lucas Brimstone either. It was all new, and I couldn’t escape the unsettling flutter deep in my gut.

‘Ah, Monsieur Brimstone!’ a heavy French accent called out. A man who seemed to take facial hair inspiration from the Pringles guy floated across the room and shook Luke’s hand, dazzling both of us with a row of pearly whites. ‘We’ve missed you dearly sir!’

‘Hugo, it’s nice to be back,’ Luke said. ‘I trust my table is still available?’

‘Of course, it’s been untouched! Please, this way,’ Hugo said animatedly, gesturing for us to follow. Seemingly oblivious to the way his presence turning every woman into a hungry hyena, Luke kept his hand at the small of my back until we arrived at a corner table with a single U-shaped booth.

Luke unshed my coat, taking his time as if he wanted the process to last and making sure to graze as much of me as he could. He handed it along with our menus to Hugo. ‘We’ll take a bottle of the ‘66 Lafite, plea –’ Luke cut himself off as we sat. ‘Abigail, sorry for not asking. You’re alright with red?’

It’s been a while since I felt overwhelmed and underdressed. ‘Sure, red wine sounds great,’ I said as I eyed Luke’s chest. Those hairs were poking out of his collar again, and I wanted to taste him right there.

‘Good. We’ll go with the ‘66 then,’ Luke said to Hugo, who issued a soft smile and bowed before leaving.

I tucked a few loose strands behind my ear, surveying the crowd. They weren’t typical bar people, but I guess this wasn’t a typical bar. In fact, I’ve never even heard of *Maison Diamanté* before. Like Luke promised, background chatter was tempered and provided an endless cast of warm energy. Everyone was a three-piece suit or cocktail dress, definitely no tight shirt bros catching the game.

‘It’s an exclusive club,’ Luke said, gesturing to the attendees. ‘There’s a fifty-thousand dollar annual fee, and even if you have the dough, you must meet certain criteria before you’re allowed to buy in.’

I must have made a face because he gave me a look, a smug grin telling me he knew exactly how impressed I felt.

‘You’re not trying to show off are you?’ I teased, smirking innocently into him.

He leaned into the table. ‘And if I was, would that be so bad?’ he asked, looking me deadpan with those gorgeous green halos, and my smirk disappeared.

Oh, he’s good.

I folded my arms underneath my chest, and his eyes didn’t miss that either. ‘Did you find this place yourself, or were you recruited into this rich kid club?’ I nudged, raising one brow.

He moved his elbows from his sides to the tabletop, studying me with that damn grin, while that open collar did things to my focus. ‘Neither. I helped the owner win custody of his kids with three days of preparation,’ he said with upturned palms. ‘This table was just a side benefit that I couldn’t say no to.’

I choked out a laugh. ‘Okay Batman,’ I said, rolling my eyes. ‘You’re definitely showing off. I think it’s time for us to get to work.’

‘Batman?’ he mused. ‘You were calling me Mr. Brimstone just yesterday.’ He placed his hands closer to mine so that I could feel the heat of his fingers.

‘That was in your office,’ I said, keeping my hands within proximity as Hugo returned with our bottle of something French. ‘This is not.’

‘No, you’re not going to find alcohol like this up there,’ he grinned as he filled my cup first, then his own, the entire time his eyes never leaving me. It was almost as if he thought I was going to disappear if he broke view, intense and smoldering.

I had great wine before, but nothing like this. I didn’t give a shit about tannins or body, but it just tasted more satisfying. Like something that had been hiding from me until now to say, ‘Hey you’ve been drinking crap your entire life!’

Even more impressive was how efficiently we worked considering I constantly fell into mini-episodes of staring at his chest. And shoulders. And arms. Though his musculature showed through his blazer, it was hiding all the little details I wanted for vibrator hour.

I took partial credit for being a fast learner, but I found Luke to be a phenomenal teacher. He was patient at the right times, listening to all of my ideas and telling me what he liked and disliked without as much as a hint of belittlement. There was a natural rhythm to the way we worked together, his Ying fitting perfectly with my Yang.

He was extremely thorough, and by the time we both decided to wrap for the night, I felt like I was well on my way to writing the encyclopedia on Cheryl Wynn. And there was just the right amount of fingers brushing to keep the conversation interesting.

Though there were no more professional ties for us to stay, the way his eyes smiled alongside of his mouth whenever he laughed at one of my weird comments and the way his shoulders filled that suit jacket kept me firmly glued in my seat, which, by the way, was one of the softest seats my ass had ever known.

I was on my fourth glass of red, and was having fun. Real, loose fun with this man I barely knew in a place twelve levels above my pay grade. But more than just fun, it was organic and felt so . . . easy.

Our conversation led to a natural lull, and he leaned over the table into my side of the booth while holding my eyes hostage, clearly something on his mind. ‘Abigail, the case notes only tell me so much . . . I’d like to know exactly what happened that day, that morning,’ he eluded, but I knew exactly what he was referring to. ‘If you’re comfortable enough sharing,’ he added, thumbs stroking my hand.

I gestured to the drained bottle. ‘If there’s more where that came from, I’ll tell you whatever you want.’

‘Of course.’ He called Pringles over. ‘Hugo, we’d like another bottle please.’ Hugo bowed and smiled wide to himself as he went to fetch our wine.

‘He seems happy about something,’ I pointed out, a few tipsy giggles escaping as I took another welcome sip.

A grin spread across Luke’s face. ‘He is. Do you know the kind of tip money he’s getting from two twelve-hundred dollar bottles?’

*Twelve-hundred dollars?!*

I actually choked on the fluid in my mouth, and in a flash, Luke’s hand was approaching my face, but instead of batting it away I allowed it to come to me. He cupped my jawline as his thumb wiped away a dribble of wine that escaped from the corner of my mouth and kept his hand there as he gave me a heart-stopping look that made my ladybits very, very bothered.

The faint blips of electricity that was ever present between us grouped together into a raging, all-consuming thunderstorm that I couldn’t look away from and oh, dear, I was in trouble.

His eyes moved from mine to my lips, but Julia’s heeding messages slammed into my consciousness. I knew that if I didn’t stop what was coming, there would be no turning back. I knew that if I allowed his lips on mine, I’d lose what was left of the self-control the wine didn’t already wash away.

I bowed my head, dismissing what could have been, and allowed his hand to slip off my face. ‘I had no idea, Luke, I’m sorry. You should tell Hugo we changed our mind,’ I said quickly, clearing my throat and avoiding his dangerous gaze.

His hands dropped to the table, but he didn’t seem affected otherwise. ‘I don’t think Hugo would be very happy about that,’ he said. ‘Besides, you still owe me a story, and I’d rather have another glass or two while I listened.’

‘Why do you want to know anyways?’ I stabbed in a piecing tone, folding my arms across my chest. I knew I was being a bitch on purpose to find another way out, because I was one smoldering look away from pressing my foot against his crotch and I didn’t have the power tell him no.

He leaned back, tilting his head and said, ‘Because I want more motivation. More reason to fight for you. Abigail, What he did to you was horrible, and unless I know exactly how horrible, I wouldn’t be as effective as I could in winning this case.’

Hugo returned and before I could get a word in, the cork was already popped and my glass was filled again with what should have been the cure to freaking cancer.

He didn’t seem to mind the uncomfortable silence that followed. A patient smile settled on Luke’s face as he took periodic sips, boring into me. I shook my head – he was clearly not giving in.

Seeing as he already opened the wine, I decided to just tell the damn story, sighing as a validation of my submission. ‘We were discussing a possible raise,’ I began.

‘Things were normal. Fun, even. He told me about his weekend with his kids and Six Flags and cotton candy. I thought I could inject my agenda into the conversation, and that’s when the creep came out. He asked me to lock the door, and like a good little girl, I did. I won’t – I can’t, forget that look he gave me. That look like he owned me. My body. I physically felt it.’ I stopped to down half my glass, but Luke didn’t say anything, drinking me in like the wine in his hands.

‘He kept himself between the door and myself, and I felt scared. I mean, I know now that it was an unreasonable reaction considering I could have broken his arm in six locations, but in the moment . . . I felt scared. Scared of what he wanted to do with me,’ I croaked, and I felt heat building behind my eyes.

I swallowed before continuing, and Luke opened his mouth to say something but I waved my hand no. I was only going to tell him this once, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to repeat it again.

‘As he made his way closer to me, he told me he knew the divisional manager very well, and that he could get me even more than what I was looking for . . . for the right favors. I remember way he kept *observing* different parts of me, like he was in a grocery store deciding whether to buy apples or bananas . . . He walked towards me until he was close. Inappropriately close.’

Luke put two fingers on his lips, and I saw the sinewy fibers of his jaw contract as he listened, a predatory look in his eyes. His other hand was balled up tightly around mine, a silent message of his sympathy.

‘Then . . . he slapped me on the butt. And for the first six or eight seconds, I just – I just allowed his hand to freely fondle me. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I was frozen and . . . and oh god Luke, the feeling of being so supremely and entirely violated . . .’ but I couldn’t continue, as tears started streaming down my eyes. He was quick to whip out a handkerchief, and goddamn it, who still carried around a handkerchief?

He slid around to my side of the booth to hold me, and the gesture was the last necessary force to break the dam I’d been trying to hold up over the past two weeks. It broke spectacularly and entirely as I cried and cried into his chest, eyeliner and tears proving too much for the cashmere cloth and smudging his dress shirt charcoal.

His long, hard arms surrounded me easily and his embrace felt safe, protective. He didn’t condescend my emotions with sarcastic pats on the back or try too hard to assuage the moment with uneven squeezes. He simply held me, firmly and softly altogether, and I didn’t feel embarrassed or ashamed to openly weep into him.

These tears were as surprising to me as to the handful of eyes I was drawing from the bar, and damn it, I thought I had my shit together but it turned out it was splattered all over. I was broken, and as much as I didn’t want to be affected, I wasn’t fully at peace with what happened.

Other than a few phone calls with Stacey and Julia, there was no one else I confided in. I was on good terms with all of my staff, but I didn’t dare cross that line, and if my parents found out, the TSA would find the shotgun in my dad’s luggage. My brothers would probably just murder Brett in his sleep – an attractive option that I’ve humored more than once.

I caught myself with my arms wrapped around Luke’s waist, and between the chaos of emotions I wanted to hold onto him tighter, closer. But as much as I wanted to lose myself in him, I knew better. ‘I’m going to the restroom,’ I sniffled as I rose abruptly. His hands came up with me, lingering in the empty space between us before dropping to his sides.

‘Of course. I’ll be here,’ he said so fucking gentlemen-like, and I quickly turned around before he could see how his courtesy brought fresh tears to my eyes.

I felt his gaze heavy on my back as I made a beeline for the restroom. It was in the far corner of the bar, and as I passed the edge of the island to get there, some drunk douchebag whistled and said, ‘Sugar tits, come – come over here. Fuck that guy.’ A few hurried steps and I was away from his grabby hands, trotting into the empty ladies room and occupying a sink.

I was a hot mess, hair tangled and wild, dried rivers of mascara branched out over my cheeks. Grabbing a rolled towel from the mound sitting between each pair of sinks, I wiped a mixture of several facial fluids off my upper lip, along with what pride I had left.

The restroom was quiet, as the path to get here involved several corners, multiple walls separating it from the main space. I used the silence to fix my face and flesh out my feelings.

Complicated was an understatement. My feelings were intertwined, cloudy and unclear. There was a shot of sorrow, a splash of regret, and whole lot of anger. My fingers gripped the edge of the counter, nails whitening. I was angry at Brett, but even more so, I was angry at myself.

I let myself down that day, and now, I was letting myself down again, ruining an otherwise perfect night. I wouldn’t be surprised if Luke had left by now, and I’d wake up tomorrow to an impersonal email that started with “Sorry this couldn’t work out”.

‘Are you all alone in here, sugar tits?’

The hairs on my neck stood up. Swinging around, I was met with a mountain of a man. Glossy-eyed, he was smiling at me like he knew a secret I didn’t, and that look told me he wasn’t here by accident. It was him – Grabby Hands. He fucking followed me.

I didn’t get an honest appreciation of how big he was sitting down. He was a good foot taller than I was, and probably had a hundred-and-fifty pounds on me. One lumbering arm on the doorframe, there was no getting out unless it was through him, and as much as I wanted to push my fist through his skull, I didn’t have the capacity, shaky and weak from emotion.

‘Get the fuck away from me. I wasn’t interested back there and I’m sure as shit not interested now,’ I tried to warn threateningly, but the crack in my voice represented the confidence in my gut.

He laughed a deep, haunting bellow that shook his rotund belly and reverberated against the marble walls. Stepping out of the doorway and closer to me, he said, ‘You don’t want to say no to me. Come home with me, sugar tits. I’ll even call you a cab afterwards if you give up your ass.’

Instinctively, I backed up, but there was no space left between me and the counter. I was stuck between the sink and his look. The same revolting look that pierced through me two weeks ago.

*That* look.

Spasms of fear ran down my spine, penetrating every cell of my body and paralyzing me. My muscles tensed and jaw locked. My heart was beating furiously, as if warning me to do something, to move, to run but the rest of me had already shut down. A lead weight dragged on my heart, my soul as I recognized the precarious void I was in.

I felt utterly helpless as he stepped even closer, and I could smell the stench of vodka on his breath through his dense, labored exhales. He could reach out and grab me now, the distance he was from me. My feet each weighed a thousand pounds.

Pressing his palms onto the countertop behind me, I was surrounded by his massive frame. I held myself tightly with my head low, taking short, clipped breaths that pulsated in my chest.

He forced his balding head into my hair, inhaling deep and breathing out with a satisfied grunt. ‘Mmm… Yes, that’s right little bird, surrender. Maybe I’ll have you right here?’ he grumbled orcishly. I closed my eyes, unable to do any more, just counting the seconds until the inevitable was to happen.

‘I’m going to fucking kill you,’ Luke’s voice rang out from somewhere in the vicinity.

Luke. *Luke.* He was here.

‘This whore is mi –’ Grabby Hands started but Luke swung, knocking the air of out him with a body blow. His form wasn’t perfect, but I wasn’t going to complain. As Grabby tried to get up, Luke football tackled him, and the two ended up tussling on the floor of the ladies room.

I’ve seen plenty of men spar, but this wasn’t sparring – at least not from Luke’s side. That warmness in his eyes that persisted throughout the night was gone, and replaced by something cold, full of steel. Every punch he threw was with ill intent, and soon Grabby’s lip, nose, and ears were busted open, flowing freely and staining the floor a horrible maroon.

It was obvious that Luke wasn’t satisfied with simply defending me, or settling for a draw, and Grabby realized it. He called for help, but was met with a muting blow to the nose. He tried to scramble and run, but Luke grabbed his jacket collar with both hands and slammed his head back down onto the hard tile. This wasn’t just anger – this was a demonic possession.

Luke found himself on top, and issued a handful of glancing punches, but took a few coming from the bottom as well. Something ripped before Luke landed cleanly to the temple, dazing his opponent. Finally, a well-placed crack to the chin shut off Grabby’s lights, but Luke wasn’t done.

He hammered into him again, and there was something disturbing about watching a motionless face being struck. It was the reason why there were referees in the cage, so that someone could defend the sitting duck. As much as I didn’t care for Grabby Hands, I knew that part of his behavior tonight could be blamed on the ninety-proof.

As Luke wound up again over the limp target, I snapped out of my trance, reached out, and restrained his arm with both of my hands.

‘Luke. Enough.’

His arm was shaking, and he was breathing forcibly, eyes still glued to the torso below. Eyes swollen shut, Grabby’s face was a crime scene. Both lips were split, and his nose was definitely broken. After several seconds of self-contemplation, Luke slowly rose off the large body, holding his own hand with a wince, and I saw that it was cut and bleeding.

‘Come on, we need to get you some ice for this before it –’ I wasn’t able to finish my sentence, as his lips met mine.

All of the anxiety I had melted away. I couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything else except the touch of him on me. Our tongues groped desperately for each other, as our mouths took turns playing host to the feverish dance. His hands were bunched up in my hair, then on my back, pressing me against him, into him, all over him. Mine grabbed at him with urgency, filled with desire and intent and need.

He backed me up into the sink, but instead of the dizzying fear I felt the last time I was in this position, Fourth of July fireworks exploded down my spine, ending with sparkling elation at my bosom. He propped me up onto the countertop, so that I was sitting with him between my thighs, my heels slipping off, clacking onto the floor below. My hands had minds of their own, traveling to his neck, his hair, wherever I could get more of him.

After what was objectively the best few seconds of my life, he released me and I whimpered in complaint. I wanted more, and leaned in for seconds but he held himself back, panting audibly as he looked at me, into me. Studying his face, the bruised lip and darkening cheek only added to the rugged jawline and tousled hair. The hatred that darkened his eyes to a forest green minutes ago was now replaced by a glimmering hue, radiating something much more gentle but equally as passionate.

Something that I felt as well.

‘Abigail,’ he whispered in between breaths, ‘please tell me you want to get out of here.’

Chapter 1: https://redd.it/6yxcps

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/74rkwm/downing_abbey_chapter_5