Chapter 7 He defended me

Louisa's POV

"Asshole! Let go of me!" I struggled violently.

"Lighter..." Lucas mumbled.

"I didn't steal your lighter!" I raised my voice.

In despair, I grabbed a bucket of ice and poured water and ice all over his head.

Everyone around the table was shocked for a brief moment.

Drenched in icy cold water from head to toe, Lucas seemed to regain consciousness.

He stared at me while wiping the water off his face. He might be the only person that I had seen to stay so damn hot after being waterboarded.

Natasha, my supervisor, rushed forward and dragged me to the side.

"What the fuck have you done?! Are you fucking insane?!" she barked at my face.

Then, she displayed a corp smile to Lucas and said, "I  sincerely apologize, Mr. Farrow. She's a new girl and she doesn't know what she's doing."

Feeling indignant and ashamed, I bit my lips while rubbing my arms.

Lucas grabbed me with such tremendous force that he left some red marks on my wrists and arms.

"What the fuck are you doing?! Come here and apologize to Mr. Farrow!" Natasha glared at me and hissed.

I lowered my head and stood absolutely still.

I totally freaked out and didn't know what was going to happen to me.

That was the first day of my job and I ruined it by pouring ice water all over a customer.

This customer was an asshole,  but he was an asshole who was sitting in the most expensive VIP booth.

Most importantly, I really needed that job!

Standing all by myself among the chaotic partying crowd in the club, I knew nobody would step forward and defend me.

"I'm talking to you! Are you fucking retarded?! Come here!" Natasha raised her voice.

Someone suddenly pushed me forward. I limped forward and my thighs banged against the table.

It was so painful. I lowered my head, rubbing my legs.

Then, I saw Lucas' endless legs wrapped in Armani pants and his Givenchy boots, all drenched and soiled by water.

Damn. They look so fucking expensive. I thought to myself.  I won't be able to pay for them. I'm in big trouble now.

"Raise your head." I heard his voice.

He was talking to the girl in the storage room in the same cold, commanding voice.

My body started to shiver. He was close to me. Too close. I could smell his sexy fragrance, mixed with the smell of cigarettes and alcohol. I was so hopelessly fascinated by his smell.

As much as I wanted to take a look at him, I didn't like the feeling of being addressed like a dog.

So I turned my head away from him to avoid eye contact.

He stretched out his hand and lifted up my chin.

Water dripped down from the tip of his hair onto the tip of his chiseled nose, trickling down to the side of his slightly pouting lips.

This man was so dame hot. He was staring at me and killing me at the same time.

As soon as our eyes met, he recognized me. His lips lifted slightly in a sarcastic wry smile.

"Aha," he said in a sober voice. "You're the mop girl."

Mop girl.

That was how my name registered in his fucking playboy's playbook.

Jerkfaced jerk.

I turned to leave when he grabbed my arms and turned me around to face him.

He gazed at me with an intense expression of something dark and mysterious. I couldn't tell whether he wanted to kiss me or strangle me. There was a lump in my throat and I could feel the surge of temperature within our proximity.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat and licked my chapped lips.

I regretted it almost immediately because it might have sent some very confusing signals to a fucking pervert like him.

Feeling toasted by his hot glare, I struggled and tried to push him away.

"You know the more violently you struggle, the more excited I feel, right?" he smirked.

I scowled back at him, but I stopped struggling.

"There you go. Much better." He looked smug. "So, where's my lighter?"

"I didn't steal your lighter!" I snapped.

Natasha gave me a dark look and fawned all over Lucas -

"Sir, please rest assured that no stealing is allowed in our venue."

Lucas narrowed his eyes.

"I'm not saying that she's stolen it. I left it on the table and now it's gone. She was cleaning the table. She might have taken it away by mistake."

Was he... defending me? I couldn't even believe what I'd heard.

Maybe I'm not all by myself in this club after all. I thought to myself.

Feeling touched, I whispered, "I've collected everything on the table and put them into the basket. I didn't notice if there was a lighter. It was too dark..."

I suddenly stopped talking because I felt touched.

I mean, literally, touched.

Lucas' giant hands were stroking all the way down my arms toward my butt.

His dirty move triggered waves of delightful shivers through my whole body, and that was why I had to resist the urge to close my eyes and moan.

But at the same time, a compelling sense of shame was evoked from the bottom of my heart.

"Stop it! Jerkface!" I pushed his head away from me and stepped back in a panic.

But unfortunately, I must have tripped over something and fallen down like a spread eagle.

Great. Just when I thought today couldn't be more embarrassing. Now I'm going to fall on the floor like a flipped turtle in front of everyone. I thought to myself in despair.

At that time, Lucas placed his arm around my waist and caught me.

Then, he pulled me against his chest while fetching something behind me.

I turned my head back and saw it.

The waste basket.

It turned out that he was just trying to fetch the waste basket left on the table!

And I was nothing but an idiot who was stupid enough to think he wanted to grab my butt.

Feeling embarrassed, I struggled to get back to my feet, so I could run away.

But again, I failed.

"Where do you think you're going? I haven't found my lighter yet." Lucas lifted me up with one arm while flipping through the trash in the basket.

This muscular asshole carried me in his one arm effortlessly!

Flushed scarlet, I stared at him indignantly.

He casually took a glance at me before flipping the basket upside down.

"What? You don't like being handled by a man?" He peered at me.

"Nobody likes being handled by anyone!" I hissed.

"You're a bit handful, mop girl." He gave me a crooked smile while squeezing my butt a bit.

"My name is not mop girl, jerkface!" I corrected him, trying to move my hips away.

"Yeah, talk dirty to me." He replied absentmindedly while kept going through the trash.

Seriously? All this effort for a lighter? That fucking lighter must be made of gold. I thought to myself.

"I can't find it. It's not in the trash," he declared.

"What?! Are you looking carefully? Put me down and let me look for it!" I struggled and said.

He arched his eyebrows and held me with both of his hands.

His eyes were beaming with a mischievous glint.

I had a really bad feeling about where this was going.

"It's not on the table. It's not in the basket. It must be on you."