Azriel took a deep drag on his cigarette, lost in thought as to what he was expecting Phoebe to say at that moment.
Phoebe was equally at a loss for words. When they had just come up, they saw the "strangely dressed young ladies who had disappeared one by one on the first floor coming out of this private room. It didn't take much to figure out that they were Kane's honored guests and that the evening's entertainment had been arranged with them in mind. However, the night's offerings weren't limited to the show. There were other indulgences as well.
Phoebe felt a tightness in her chest, an unwelcome feeling, but she had no place to voice her concerns. "I didn't know you were here."
"What difference would it have made? If you knew I was here, would you not have done all this?" Azriel questioned.
Phoebe's brow furrowed deeply, "What have I done?"
The private room was dimly lit, with a coffee table separating the two. They couldn't clearly see each other's expressions on their faces, but their voices betrayed the tension between them.d2
"Phoebe," Azriel began coolly, "what did you promise me last night?"
She remembered clearly, "If I ever find a boyfriend, I should bring him to you for approval."
"You said you would be discerning; you wouldn't just choose anyone."
"I don't think what I did tonight conflicts with what I said last night."
Azriel stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, "I'm curious, you've never thought about finding a boyfriend during your undergrad or grad studies, but suddenly, just one night passes and you're in such a hurry?"
As he spoke, he rose from the sofa, circled the table, and approached her with a noble indifference that seemed to suck the air from the room. Forcing her to look at him, he grasped her chin with a commanding touch. "Are you enjoying yourself?" His eyes swirled with a dangerous intensity as his fingers gently stroked her skin.
Phoebe recoiled, trying to escape his grip, but he held her even tighter. "What are you hiding from?"
His voice was hollow and cold, "Answer me."
Phoebe shook her head, her gaze inadvertently falling on the undone buttons of his shirt. He was always so meticulous with his appearance; she had never seen him like this before. The images of the women who had left this room, cooing and cuddling in his arms, flashed in her mind. She hadn't witnessed it, but the mere thought made her stomach turn with disgust. Tears welled up in her eyes.
"It's not fun." She spoke truthfully, and Azriel smiled slightly. Phoebe continued. "But I did make some decent friends. If it were a different setting, I wouldn't mind these gatherings."
Azriel never thought his temper could be so volatile, that someone could repeatedly test his patience.
Phoebe pulled away from his hold, "I really don't like this place, and I don't know how to enjoy its pleasures like you do. You have fun. I'm going home."
With that, she headed for the door, but before her hand could reach the knob, a gust of wind from behind slammed the door shut. Frustrated and dazed, she found herself tossed onto the sofa. As she came to, tears began to fall, "What are you doing?!"
Azriel stood over her, his gaze authoritative.
Her shoulder-length hair was loosely tousled, and she was adorned with delicate light makeup. She wore a fitted blue knitted dress that fell above the knee, showcasing her long and slender legs. At this moment, she reclined on the sofa, and he could even see the edge of her leggings beneath the hem of her skirt.
She had dressed up for this occasion. She had come here, flirted with men, and had made an effort to look good. This realization washed away any sympathy he had felt at the sight of her tears.
"You don't like this place? It seems you enjoy it quite a bit," he said coldly, sitting down beside her.
Phoebe felt a fear of Azriel that she couldn't explain. His mood swings were too extreme, and the air around him was charged with anger. Up close, she could smell the alcohol on his breath.
"What are you trying to do?" Phoebe rose from the sofa, retreating to a corner and wiping away her tears.
Azriel looked impatient, not saying a word. He simply took out another cigarette, lit it, and the room fell into silence.
After a while, sensing his mood had calmed, Phoebe spoke up, "I want to go home."
Azriel didn't move, his voice cold and unyielding, "No, you're staying here tonight."
"Why? I told you I don't like it here."
Phoebe detested this place. Just thinking of him with those strange women made her sick.
Azriel took another drag on his cigarette, exhaling forcefully and crushing the butt on the coffee table. "Fine."
He stood up suddenly, pulling her off the sofa and throwing his jacket over her shoulders before striding out the door. His movements lacked any tenderness.
Phoebe stumbled along, eventually being shoved into the car. The intoxicated man took the driver's seat, the engine roaring to life.
"Are you insane?!" she exclaimed, but her shock elicited no response from him as the car sped away.
She expected him to drive recklessly home, but instead, they stopped at a hotel entrance. He got out first, then yanked open the passenger door. "Get out."
Phoebe clung to her seatbelt, refusing to budge. "I want to go home!"
Azriel sneered, leaning in to unbuckle her seatbelt, then hoisted her over his shoulder.
The doorman, looking anxious, drove the car away.
"Sir..."
"A suite," Azriel demanded.
"Right away." said the front desk, not daring to delay.
Phoebe was dumped onto the bed, staring at Azriel in panic. "Azriel..."
"Go take a shower."
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