Chapter 3

 

As Sebastian descended the staircase from the third floor of Nocturne, his gaze landed on a familiar figure. Eleanor was sitting at the bar, clearly intoxicated and swaying slightly in her seat.

He narrowed his eyes, masking his sudden confusion. Hadn't this woman insisted she was going straight home when she fled his car? Why was she suddenly at a nightclub, drinking heavily and completely unguarded?

Didn't she know that a club like this was a hunting ground?

A drunk girl was vulnerable. A drunk, beautiful girl was doubly so. And a woman who looked like her was a hundred times more in danger.

Sebastian could clearly see two men hovering nearby, leering at Eleanor and her friend. Their eyes were bloodshot and filled with predatory intent. Judging by their body language, they were about to make a move.

"Ladies, it's a bit dull drinking all by yourselves, isn't it? My mate and I have a table just over there. Why don't you join us for a round?"

A tall, lanky man who had been stalking them from afar finally approached, leaning too close as he offered the invitation.

Eleanor ignored him entirely, staring blankly into her glass. Beatrice merely rolled her eyes, curled her lip in distaste, and turned her back to him.

"Ha!" The lanky man's friend, watching from a few paces away, let out a loud, mocking laugh.

The tall man’s ego bruised instantly, his expression twisting into an ugly scowl. However, looking back at Eleanor, whose flushed cheeks only made her look more devastatingly beautiful, he swallowed his temper. Instead, he directed his bruised pride at Beatrice.

"With a face like yours, you've got some nerve rolling your eyes at me," he sneered. "I was doing you a favour inviting you over. God, ugly women are always the most difficult!"

Beatrice had already built up an immunity to this sort of pathetic posturing and simply ignored him.

Eleanor, however, exploded.

She was fiercely protective; anyone she cared about fell strictly under her guard. On a normal day, she might have just given the man a cutting dressing-down. But tonight, the alcohol had stripped away her restraint.

Without a second thought, she swung her hand in an arc. Instead of drinking her cocktail, she sent the red liquid splashing directly across the tall man's face.

"Bloody hell! You crazy bitch, you threw your drink at me!"

"And I'll do it again!" Eleanor snapped, her eyes blazing with angry intensity. "If you don't clean up your mouth, the next glass will be boiling water!"

The tall man wiped the alcohol from his eyes, stunned for a split second before his friends quickly closed in, surrounding the two women. They saw this conflict as an opportunity…intimidate the beauties, force an apology, and see where the night led.

Standing near the stairs, Sebastian frowned. He raised a hand, catching the eye of the floor manager standing nearby, and gave an instruction.

"Throw those men out."

The manager looked at Sebastian in surprise, but upon meeting his angered, displeased gaze, he immediately grabbed his radio.

Moments later, a squad of burly security guards descended upon the group.

"What do you think you're doing? We're paying customers! You can't put your hands on us! I'm going to report this!" the tall man shouted, struggling as he and his friends were suddenly hauled away.

The security guards remained deaf to their protests, dragging them forcefully out the doors of Nocturne.

Beatrice watched the scene in astonishment, leaning closer to her friend. "Eleanor, what on earth just happened?"

Eleanor blinked, trying to force her alcohol-foggy brain to make sense of the sudden rescue. She shook her head, just as bewildered.

Before either could think about anything, Sebastian walked over to their section of the bar and tapped his knuckles lightly against the table.

Beatrice glanced over. Her eyes widened instantly at the sight of the striking man. She quickly elbowed Eleanor in the ribs.

"Bea, why are you poking me?!" Eleanor groaned loudly.

Beatrice covered her face with her hands, rendered utterly speechless, wishing she could pretend she didn't know her best friend. Must you be so loud? I'm trying to tell you there's an absolute god standing right behind you!

Sebastian noticed Beatrice’s desperate gesturing, and an amused smile touched his lips. He reached out and gently tapped Eleanor on the shoulder.

To him, it was a perfectly ordinary gesture to get her attention. But timing was everything.

Eleanor’s nerves were still frayed from the creeps who had just harassed them. The moment she felt a man's hand on her shoulder, her defensive instincts took over. She spun around, raising the glass Beatrice had just set down...

Splash!

The hero had swooped in to save the beauty, and his reward was a face full of alcohol.

As the last drops of gin dripped from the man's chiseled jaw, Eleanor finally registered exactly who was standing behind her.

She let out a muffled groan, slapped both hands over her burning face, and buried her head in her arms against the mahogany of the bar, desperately wishing she could spontaneously start burning.

A few paces away, the floor manager stared at the scene, utterly dumbfounded. The untouchable, formidable Sebastian Lockwood had just been deliberately drenched in alcohol by a woman! If Sebastian's inner circle of friends ever found out about this, they would die laughing. The manager couldn't help but was filled with awe. Whoever this fearless woman was, he wanted to bow down to her.

Sebastian casually lifted a hand, wiping the cool liquid from his face. He looked down at the woman playing ostrich with a mix of frustration and deep amusement.

"Well, Eleanor," his deep voice rumbled. "I step in to save you from a pair of creeps, and this is how you repay me?"

Eleanor shrank deeper into her arms. Oh God, he remembered her from the car.

Wait.

Her head snapped up, her unfocused eyes blinking up at him in realization. "How do you know my name?"