Chapter 4 NEW DAWN

The bathroom mirrors reflect five faces of myself back to me, showing me exactly how flushed I am after that encounter with Mr. Harry.

I am aware that by confronting my supervisor the night before my workday, I am going beyond what is necessary. Based on our two interactions so far, I've deduced that Van Harry has five distinct types of frowns.

Unfortunately, they all look the same and they are all present on his face all the time

In the course of twelve hours, this man has managed to make me more anxious than I have ever been. Ass fuck! When I lost my virginity to Braden Taylor in the eighth grade, I wasn't even anxious.

I turn on the faucet to wash my face after letting out a sigh into the mirror. I don't give a damn about my makeup anymore, and if I don't change, I'll wind up drinking more, and you don't want to be hangover early on your first day of work. I'll feel more at ease leaving if I appear worse.

My nerves relax a little under the cool water, and when I raise my head again, most of my makeup has disappeared, revealing my numerous freckles. With the exception of the waterproof eyeliner, everything has been cleaned off.

Thank Walmart for that too.

Releasing a sigh, I open the door to the washroom to step out. Loud music greets my ears, and I see people being even more drunk and crazier than they were when I left the floor.

As I scan the crowd for Sophia, I spot her flirting with a man on the dance floor. He seems kind of cute from this angle, and I don't want to ruin her make-out session. I pull out my phone, smile at her good fortune, and quickly type her a message before sending it.

He's cute. Great catch.

I'm going home.

As I put my phone back into my bag, someone collides with me pretty hard, sending me crashing against a nearby wall. I see spots for seconds as my vision darkens.

"Hey, watch out!" I yell, holding my head as it spins.

The person who collided with me turns. He looks big, old, and completely drunk. He even has his saliva dripping down his mouth to his beard and is carrying a bottle in his hand.

It's disgusting.

"Fucking bitch! Standing...in the way," he growls at me and steps forward.

I instantly back against the wall when he steps closer and extends an arm to grab me.

"Hey! Move away!" I try to walk past him but he blocks my way and brings his smelly drunken face close to my own.

His hands are on my arms, hooking into my neckline as he tries to tear it open.

"You'll do for tonight," he slurs, dripping booze down his mouth.

I attempt to grab my sling bag, which I always keep pepper spray in, but his body presses on mine, leaving me unable to move. I can no longer breathe due to the strain of his weight as my arm becomes squeezed between his body and the wall.I find myself crying without even realizing it, but as I press firmly against his chest, fat tears begin to roll down my cheeks. "Let me go!" I sob, crying against his assaults.

No one seems to be coming to my rescue. Everyone is drunk and it is late and my best friend is lost in kissing. No, this can't be happening. I can't be getting raped in the middle of a party.

As the man reaches for the hem of my skirt, to push it up, a hand slaps on his T-shirt, pulling him off me in one swift force.

I gasp, feeling the relief of his body being lifted from me before my sight clears, and I see the person who saved me.

As I watch, Van Harry shoves the man into another wall and raises his fist, slamming it hard against the man's cheek. The man is knocked down so hard that he slurps and loses consciousness in an instant. "Oh my God!" I exclaim, unable to believe that someone's one punch can have so much power.

I glance up at Mr. Harry, who is being a gentleman and smoothing out the creases in his suit while releasing his grip on the man's T-shirt. A few inebriated onlookers who had been observing the situation give him a cheer before leaving. He turns to me and I find his strong gaze keeping me rooted in place.

"Miss. Toms, are you okay?" he asks, taking a step toward me.

"Yeah...I think I am," as I speak the words, my head hurts and the floor beneath my feet rocks.

I stumble, falling, but his arms catch me and before I can stop him, Mr. Harry is scooping me up in his arms swiftly.

"Hold on, Miss. Toms. Seems like you have got a concussion. Would you like me to take you to the hospital?"

My brain has entirely stopped working, so I'm not sure what he expects me to answer. All I can see from here is his worried, deep set eyes staring into mine, and the sensation of his hand beneath my bare knees. His touch causes my skin to burn so intensely that I feel as though tomorrow I will bear his hand imprint. My arms are around his neck and I am unconsciously staring at his lips.

"Miss. Toms?" His deep voice knocks me back to my senses and I look around us to see the floor completely packed.

No one is paying attention to either of us or to the man who is knocked out flat on the floor.

"No, thanks..." I blurt, my voice sounding lazily drunk. My cheeks flush in embarrassment. "I'd like to go home, please. Would you call me a taxi?"

I request him like it is a casual favor from a stranger and not from someone who is literally in his arms. My mind is too dizzy to ask him to put me down right now. Don't know what other morons I will end up encountering if he does.

Mr. Harry gives me a menacing look before shifting me around in his arms so that my head rests on his shoulder. He flexes his muscles powerfully and starts to walk, leaving me lying there like a caterpillar within a cocoon. My grip tightens around his neck, drawing me in close to his heady aroma of sandalwood and beer. He walks us out of the bar but instead of calling for a taxi, he begins to carry me towards a car.

An Audi

"Umm...Mr. Harry?" I murmur against his shoulder.

"Yes?" he asks, continuing to maintain that scowl.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Depends on where you live, Miss. Toms."

"Where do I live?"

He stops in front of his car at my question and raises an amused eyebrow at me. Even from this angle, the eyebrow looks angry.

Very very angry

"Miss. Toms..." he speaks calmly. "You've managed to get under my skin in the last twelve hours by insulting me, making fun of me, challenging me, and now getting wounded. Do you wish to piss off any further while you're literally in my arms?"

I press my lips to a thin line. What a rude man!

Shut up, Nancy. This rude man is taking you home.

"I didn't ask you to carry me."

"It was either this or leaving you there to be trampled on by drunken feet. Would you have preferred that, Miss. Toms?"

"No," I huff. "Take me home."

When my crop top hits up, I see him muttering to himself as he opens the door to the passenger seat of his car, and with strong hands, he puts me inside, his knuckles brushing over the small piece of exposed skin of my belly. We both take a breath, me from awkwardness, him for reasons I don't understand.

He hooks the seat belt around my torso. Shutting the door, he walks around the car, opens the other side, and gets in. As he starts the engine, he takes another look at me and his frown deepens.

He is either disgusted or troubled. I do believe it is the first. I look hideous.

"Which way?" he asks.

"Drive straight," I say and then mumble the rest of the address as I lay my head back in the seat, closing my eyes.

The hum of the engine soothes me a little as he drives the car and soon, I get lost in dreams with the quiet groan of the air coming through the open windows luring me in.

The automobile comes to a jerky stop, and I open my eyes. I see Mr. Harry move around to my side after getting out of the car, looking at him. He opens the door and stands there, still frowning at me, and I watch like a helpless child. "Will you walk or do I have to carry you again?" he grumbles the question out, taking a look at his watch.

I don't know what's gotten into me but I end up smiling at him and lifting my hands in the air like a child.

"Carry me up, please."

My boss's eyes widen, his eyebrows raising as he takes my posture in. His face changes color for a second, turning a shade pink but it doesn't miss my eyes.

"Should have taken you to the hospital," he murmurs. "You must have hit that head pretty hard."

"Apartment ," I tell him as he shuts the door and walks towards the elevator of our apartment building.

The elevator closes and then opens again, showing my floor, but he holds on to me tightly the entire time. When he comes outside, I gesture toward my apartment and hear him complain once again as he moves in that direction.

Absent-mindedly, I pull the key out of my sling bag and open the door for him. Mr. Harry enters the apartment and walks to the couch in the hall. He doesn't speak a word as he drops me flat on it.

The moment the soft cushion greets me, I twist and turn, feeling sleepy.

"When will your friend be back?" he asks as he takes hold of my feet and starts opening my heels with gentle fingers.

His touch is warm, making my toes tingle.

"She won't be back," I whisper, eyes shutting slowly. "She got a cute guy. She's going to get banged tonight."

I don't even flush as I speak the words. I hear a soft laugh and look to find Mr. Harry chuckling to himself.

So he does laugh.

"You've no control over that tongue, do you?"

I turn to the ceiling, smiling softly and then wider.

"No," I answer as Mr. Harry gets up and starts to unbutton his suit. "What are you doing?"

I suddenly become anxious but don't find the strength to say something more as sleep starts to get me deep. He just shakes his head as he gets his sturdy arms out of the suit.

He leans down and places the suit over my body, smiling softly.

"Have a good night, Nancy," he whispers close to my ear. "You have a long day tomorrow."

As if my body follows his orders too, I quickly lose myself in a deep slumber.