Girl Abroad

FROM THE FIRST BUMP OF BLOW, BEN’S LOST TO ME.

I don’t have time to consider an exit strategy before his penthouse is crawling with posh society’s dirty secrets snorting powder off the coffee table and slathering themselves in expensive champagne. They’re all quite pleased with themselves, sloshing about, cackling indecipherably.

I’ve got a headache.

“No, wait,” some leggy brunette shouts at me. She nearly falls off the arm of the sofa before the gentleman nearest her grabs the front of her satin dress to rip her back from gravity’s grip. She points a bony finger at my face. “I’ve placed you.”

If she mentions the “heart is a windmill” song, I might knock myself over the head with a sixteenth-century bookend.

The finger wags and the alcohol runs away with her accent that turns to mud in her mouth. “I know you, tricky girl.”This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

“Melissa, darling, freshen yourself up.” The gentleman offers her his wrist with a line of cocaine on it.

She takes the bump while still talking to me. “You’re the ginger who wore the Sue Li to the royal engagement.”

“And she was stunning.” Beside me, Ben hasn’t lifted his arm from my shoulder since the circus rode into town. “A showstopper head to toe.”

I tried excusing myself to the kitchen for a glass of water, but he only tightened his grip and ordered one of his fawning friends to pour me another glass of wine. I left that in a potted plant somewhere ages ago. For some reason, he’d unbuttoned his linen shirt at some point, and I’ve been trying not to look at his bare chest and the dusting of dark hair between his pecs. He’s hairier than I would’ve thought.

“My God, I’d never recognize you,” another handsome lizard draped over the sofa exclaims, all but licking his tumbler of scotch dry.

“I saw the takeout containers in the kitchen,” a gorgeous blond says between giggles. “I thought she was the delivery girl.” Then her eyes flick to mine. “Bless the dear girl.”

“Are you incognito?” the first gentleman asks. “Benjamin, I didn’t know it was to be a costume party.”

“And you know what’s even wilder?” Ben boasts to his friends. “Guess who Abbey’s dear old dad happens to be—Gunner Bly.”

“You’re shitting us!” the blond cries. “Truly?”

Right. I think I’ve been a good sport, but I’m all tapped out on fun for the night. I’m clearly never getting a look at those boxes, so my time is wasted here.

“Benjamin, dear,” I say with only a hint of mocking, waiting until he blearily meets my gaze. “I really need to get home.”

“Of course. Where are my manners?” He pulls out his phone to quickly type something, then pockets it again. “My concierge will bring a car ’round. He’ll let me know when it’s arrived.”

“I can wait downstairs.”

“I don’t think she likes our company.” Melissa pouts.

“Not me,” the lizard answers. His boyish eyes look up but fail to focus. “Surely, not me?”

“Nonsense.” Ben’s hand slips down my shoulder to rest at my hip. “I’ll not have you sitting in the lobby like— ”

“The delivery girl!” the blond exclaims. She hoists her glass in the air, spilling wine on the carpet.

Ten minutes later, the car doesn’t materialize. Twenty minutes later, still no car, and Ben’s wandering hands can’t seem to keep themselves above the equator. Meanwhile, he keeps finding new people to stumble their way over with a new glass of wine to try shoving in my hand or a creative new attempt to get their thumbnail under my nose.

I move to pry myself free of Ben’s grasp.

“Where are you sneaking off to now?” he teases.

“Calling an Uber.”

I’m all out of fucks to give.

“Don’t be cross with me.” Ben rips my phone out of my hand. He tosses it to the brunette. “Babe, tell her I’m not awful.”

A bolt of anger surges through me. Is he serious right now?

“It’s bad luck to lie under a new moon.” Melissa laughs in return, tossing my phone off to the blond.

“She’s a witch,” the blond one squeals. “Burn her!” She dips her fingers into her glass and flicks the wet tips at the other woman.

The gentleman and the lizard then take turns tossing my phone over my head while I try snatching it out of the air. Eventually I give up and throw a drink on one of them.

“No. Now come on,” Ben interjects as his friend indignantly wipes champagne off his face. “Bad form, Abbey.”

I don’t give a shit. I grab my phone and dart for the bathroom before anyone can get a hand on me. I hear a knock just as I lock the door and throw my back against it for good measure.

There isn’t much battery life left, and the nearest Uber is thirty minutes away. I suddenly hate Friday nights in London. The first tremors of panic start rippling in my stomach. I check every rideshare in the city for a quicker way home. No luck.

Damn it.

They’re pounding on the door now, and I’m not sure I can stay in here another five minutes before Ben finds a key or a battering ram. In desperation, I type out a quick SOS, then check off a bunch of names in my contacts list and send it off in the hopes someone on that list will come for me. In the meantime, I sink to the floor, pressed up against the door, feet braced, prepared to fight to the death against the coked-out horde.

Somehow, of all the escapades I envisioned for myself, I never imagined when I moved to London that I’d be holed up in a British lord’s powder room above the city, his rabid scavengers clawing at my back.

I’m pretty sure this is precisely what my father pictured. Dr. Wu will have to medicate him if Dad ever finds out about this.

“Abbey, I’m sorry,” Ben pleads after a couple minutes. “We were only having a bit of fun. We’re terrible, I know. Come out and let us apologize. No harm done, right? Be a good sport.”

It goes on like that, every few minutes or so. Until they bore of me, and I hear the muffled laughter of them taking to mocking me instead.

Then, a new commotion.

Shouting.

Doors slamming.

A glass breaks.

I hear my name echoing through the penthouse, followed by a forceful knock at my back.

“Abbey, you in there? Let me in.”

Relief hits me like a tidal wave. “Jamie? Is that you?”

I scramble to my feet and open the door for Jamie, who slips inside and slams it shut behind him. He grabs me by both shoulders and meets my eyes with his frantic gaze.

“All right, Abbs?”

“Yeah, good.” I suck in a deep breath as what’s just occurred solidifies in my mind. “You got my message? That was quick.”

“We were at a pub nearby.” He gives me a once-over, scanning me from head to toe. “What do you say we get out of here?”

Outwardly, he’s calm. Entirely unruffled. But I suspect that’s for my benefit.

It’s working.

I swallow in relief. “Sounds good.”

He takes my hand and leads me toward the living room, where I spot Lee first. Poor guy looks distraught and lets out a held breath once our eyes lock.

Then there’s Jack, who doesn’t notice me as he badgers Ben.

Fuck.

My stomach drops at the sight of him. I have a feeling I’m in for a long lecture tonight.

“Oi, I don’t want to hear it, mate,” Jack’s growling at my captor.

“I’d kindly ask you to take your hands off me.”

“If I mean to put hands on you, asking nice ain’t about to stop me.”

“I don’t know what she’s told you, but she’s grossly exaggerated the situation.”

Ben’s gaze slides to mine as he watches me and Jamie cross the room toward the exit.

“That’s my flatmate there,” Jack says, looking more ferociously dangerous than he ever has on the rugby pitch. “If she says you even looked at her sideways, I reckon you and I will see each other again real soon. Count on that, mate.”

The circus titter from the corner like a pack of mischievous sideshow clowns who’ve set a trap for an unsuspecting audience member coming down the aisle. They’re all quite proud of their chaos.

“Come,” Jamie urges, tugging me along. “Let’s get out of here.”

Jack isn’t long behind us as we ride the elevator down.

In the lobby, security and the doorman eye us warily when what they should actually do is call the damn cops. But I imagine Ben pulls this shit so often they’re probably used to it. They watch us leave, Jack staring them down the whole way.

“Nice tenants you got here,” he calls darkly as we’re walking outside.

Once we’re on the sidewalk, I finally take a deep breath. The winter chill cools my lungs, and when I exhale, it’s a faint white cloud.

“Did I not?” Lee snaps at me. “Literally, did I not?”

“Leave her be,” Jamie says gently while typing something on his phone. “She doesn’t need us telling her what for. She knows.”

Jack’s still clenching his fists when he finally looks at me. “Are you all right?”

I give a quick nod. “Fine.”

“Car will be here in ten,” Jamie tells me, tucking his phone away. “Hired us a private service.”

Jack continues to scrutinize me. “You’re sure he didn’t hurt you?”

“He didn’t. And I’m sorry, okay? I was wrong. You guys were right. He’s a creep, and I didn’t see it.”

“What in the hell were you thinking?” Satisfied I haven’t been maimed or worse, Jack’s anger homes in on me. “You out of your bloody mind going in there alone?”

“Too right,” Lee drops in.

“Shut it, mate. You didn’t stop her.”

“I should have locked her in our bathroom then?” Lee shoots back.

“Yes.”

“He never gave me any hint,” I say in my own defense. “I mean, he’d always been perfectly polite before.”

Jack snorts. “Of course he was. If his type were bastards from the off…”

“Abbey,” a familiar voice calls from behind me.

I turn, startled to see Nate jogging toward us up the sidewalk. He’s wearing jeans and a black hoodie beneath a leather jacket, his hair windblown and his expression awash with worry.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I hear Jack mutter.

“I saw your message,” Nate says when he reaches our group. “What happened?”

“The fire’s out,” I assure him.

Although now I’m completely embarrassed by the ruckus I’ve caused, forcing everyone I know to come running to my rescue.

“Ben Tulley had her captive in his bathroom,” Lee informs him.

“He what?” Nate’s gaze jumps from me to the boys. Then those dark eyes turn bright with anger. “You lads let her go up there alone? Are you mental?”

“Right, mate.” Jack steps between us. “Thanks for coming. It’s sorted. Piss off.”

“Hey, wait.” I try to interject but Jamie pulls me back.

“I’d rather hear that from her,” Nate says. He doesn’t shrink from Jack’s challenge, holding his ground. “Abbey?”

“We’ve got her,” Jack retorts. “You’ve no part to play here.”

“That’s not your decision.”

“You’re embarrassing yourself, mate. It’s pathetic.”

“What’s pathetic is this bloke in front of me who won’t let the lady speak for herself.”

Brow furrowed, Lee looks between Jack and Nate. “I don’t understand all the hostility.” His frown deepens as his gaze flits toward me for clarification.

I bite my lip and stare at my feet. Fuck. This is not the time for any of this to play out.

“She told you she was fine,” Jack is saying.

“No, you told me she was fine, you wanker.”

“What is happening right now, you two?” Jamie demands, blinking in confusion.

They both ignore him.

“Keep talking shit and I will put you down, ay?” Jack’s shoulders hunch with barely restrained tension.

Nate gets right up in Jack’s face. At six feet, he’s about four inches shorter and yet looks equally formidable. “You want to throw a punch, let’s have it. I’m not bothered by huffing and puffing.”

“Nope.” I throw myself between them. “I’m talking now, okay? And I say both of you need to back off. Thank you very much for coming. I really appreciate that you came to help me, but I’m good now. So please, put your tape measures away and leave me out of it.”

“Leave you out of it?” Nate echoes dryly. “I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re all right, luv. I was worried sick when I got your text.”

As if finally getting the memo, Lee gasps.

Fuck. I know that gasp.

“Are you together?” he exclaims, his head shifting from me to Nate. “Tell me you’re not together.”

Jamie’s gaze flies to mine. “You’re with Nate?”

I feel my cheeks heat up. “I…”

“You’re with Nate?” Jamie repeats as if his brain is stuck in neutral.

“Come off it, yeah?” Jack mutters, impatient. “Let’s just get Abbey home.”

“You knew?” Lee swivels toward Jack, accusation in his voice.

“Yeah, mate, I knew,” he snaps back. “Now can we please— ”

“Abbey,” a voice suddenly shouts, and we all glance toward the entrance of Ben’s building.

Ben Tulley himself comes stumbling out the front doors, hair rumpled, the two flaps of his open shirt fluttering in the wind.

“Abbey,” he calls unhappily. Stumbling toward us, he extends his arm to beckon me. “Please, come back upstairs. Give me a chance to apologize proper, yeah?”

Ben is about eight feet away from me when the flashbulb goes off.

“Abbey!” someone else yells. “Abbey, give a smile!”

My forehead grooves as I look around in confusion.

Then I spot him. The photographer.

No. That’s too generous a term.

He’s a vulture. Paparazzi. I grew up with those bloodthirsty vultures circling my father each time he left the house. I’d recognize them anywhere.

Another flashbulb goes off. Then another.

Deep dread crawls up my spine. Ben has stopped in his tracks, his expression going stricken when he realizes his picture is being taken.

“Abbey!”

Flash.

“Does Gunner know about you and Lord Tulley?”

Flash. Flash.

“Abbey! C’mon, darling, smile!”

Feeling the color drain from my face, I grab Lee’s arm and dig my fingernails into it. “Get me out of here,” I beg. “Please.”

Luckily, the car Jamie hired is pulling up to the curb.

Lee snaps to action. “Get in,” he commands. “Jamie, let’s go, mate.”

Jamie throws his coat over my shoulders and helps me into the car, with Lee sliding in beside us.

“Notting Hill,” Jamie tells the driver.

It isn’t until we’re speeding off that I realize we’d left Jack and Nate there.

But I’m too shaken to care right now.