Birthright

I hear gasps all around me, but the tall man barely even flinches.

“Do you feel better now?” he asks. “Can I get you a new beer, or do you need a concussion instead?”

Aaron growls and then lunges. Tall man casually sidesteps, and Aaron flies past him. The tall man grabs Aaron by the arm and smashes his face into the beer-covered bar counter.

The bartender jumps back, hands in the air as the bar towel drips beer onto the floor. I leap from my seat and move away from the insanity going on around me.

Aaron flails against the counter as the tall man continues to hold his face down. In contrast, the man’s face is almost expressionless. If anything, there’s the hint of a smile. Clearly, he’s not exerting himself.

“Let him up, Antony,” the bartender says.

“As long as he’s learned some fucking manners,” Antony responds. He releases Aaron, who immediately moves to shove him. It backfires—again—and Aaron ends up flying backward, his ass hitting the floor with a thump loud enough to be heard over the music.

Antony laughs and the bartender hides a smile as he starts cleaning the counter again. I just stand there as Aaron grabs ahold of the barstool’s leg and hauls himself to his feet. He glares at Antony and then drops back into his seat. He grins at me smugly as if he were the one to win the fight.

While others retake their seats, and the watching crowd disperses, I stare at Aaron. I’m still in shock over everything that just happened. I’ve never even seen a bar fight, let alone been so close to one, and I have no idea how I’m supposed to respond.

“I think you owe us both drinks,” Aaron says to Antony. Then he looks back to me. “Sit.”

“I’m really not sure I want to,” I say curtly, trying to maintain some composure.

“Do it anyway.” He grits his teeth as he looks at me and then nods toward the barstool.

“What?” My heart pounds rapidly though I’m not sure if it’s from fear or anger. I shake my head slowly, trying to form words.

“Just sit back down, Cherry,” Aaron snarls.

“Are you serious?” It’s anger. Definitely anger.

“Sit the fuck down!” He balls his hand into a fist again, and I stare at him incredulously.

This can’t be happening.

Before I can say anything else, the bartender intervenes.

“I think it’s time for you to go.” He drops a bill in front of Aaron. “Pay up and get out.”

“I didn’t fucking do anything!” Aaron yells and points to the tall man. “That asshole is the one who should go.”

“I tried to apologize to you, dude,” Antony replies.

“Fuck you!”

“I think I’ll just leave,” I say as I grab my purse from the back of the barstool. I take a step away, intending to grab cash from my purse to cover my tab, but of course I have no cash because I used it all for the cover charge. I pull out a credit card, knowing I’ll now have to wait for the bartender to bring my card back.

“Yours is on the house,” he tells me. “You deserve a break for putting up with this asshole.”

“Oh, no! You don’t have to do that!”

“You want someone to walk you out?” the bartender asks, still ignoring Aaron’s protests.

Before I can answer, a deep, calm voice speaks from right beside me.

“Hang for a minute, please.”

I startle and then look up to find the dark-haired, square-jawed VIP standing next to me. He’s tall, has deep blue eyes, and just the right amount of sexy five o’clock shadow. All thoughts of Aaron and his douchebag actions completely dissipate. The new man is literally sex incarnate, and all I can do is stare. He offers me a crooked half smile, and my stomach does a somersault. My throat goes dry, my heart beats faster, and I nearly drop my purse.

Holy fuck.