All the tension that had been building over the course of the evening
roiled up through Sara's frame, ready to explode with delicious violence.
She might have held it in, but when she turned to face the woman who had
interrupted them, Carmelita was ogling her date's butt. It was the last
straw. She had had enough. Her fist shot forward, ready to rearrange that
bitch's face.
Nottingham was suddenly between the two women. He moved so fast he seemed not to move so much as just appear. Anyone who blinked had missed the swift motion. Those who had not were not sure what they'd seen. That kind of speed bordered on the supernatural. A ripple of unease passed through the onlookers.
Ian could feel the attention and cursed inside his head. So much for a discreet testing of the relationship waters before risking Kenneth's anger. He'd be lucky indeed if this little dust-up didn't come to Irons attention. Nottingham could only hope that no one would recognize him, dressed as he was. If any of them did, they would delight in telling Kenneth the little on dit.
He caught Sara's fist in his palm. Nottingham had to minimize the gossip potential, and striking the owner of a very prominent new club would put them on the front of the society page. That Irons would see for himself over breakfast. Ian would likely be toast by the end of Kenneth's grapefruit.
Sara looked up in shock. She hadn't seen him move, but somehow he had gone from being beside her to being in front of her, capturing a punch that had laid men out in the boxing arena.
If it hurt him, he didn't let it show. Nottingham's face was calm, neutral, blank. Only his eyes gave anything away. There was a slight flinching that told her he was terribly uncomfortable with the situation. Sara realized that as much as Ian stayed in the shadows, being thrust into the middle of a scene must be very hard on his nerves.
Well too bad for him. She wasn't worried what a bunch of strangers thought of her, and she didn't care if they watched while little miss can't- mind-her-own-business got what was coming to her. It would probably be very educational for them.
"Let go." Sara growled as she tested his grip with a small tug.
"I do not believe that would be wise." Ian had looked deep into her eyes before speaking. He could see that she was still very angry, and so opted to keep hold of her fist. He would also keep a weather eye out for any other flying appendage. One hand held did not a captive make, especially if that limb belonged to Sara Pezzini.
"I don't care what you think Nottingham, let me go. Now!" Sara barked at him like he was a rookie at a crime scene.
"How can you ask that of me? I do not want to ever let you go." Ian said softly, but sincerely, deliberately misunderstanding her statement. He had noted that he had been relegated back to 'Nottingham', a sure sign he was no longer in Sara's good graces, but he had to try anyway
"Then we are going to have one Hell of a problem when I need to go to the bathroom." Sara knew the humor was inappropriate, but couldn't help it.
The joking was a defense mechanism, a way for Sara to distance herself when she started to get too involved in something. Pezzini did not want to examine the mingled joy and fear she had felt at Ian's statement, so she made light of his declaration. All cops did it, especially when something hit close to home, leading those on the outside to think them insensitive and crass.
Sara could see the reproach in those dark brown eyes. She shifted her weight slightly; ready to give Nottingham a good kick, anything to get away from the guilt rising in her. He looked like a puppy again, one that she had struck. Pez hated that look; it made her feel like she was a heartless bastard. The sensation made her defensive and, surprise, surprise, angrier.
"If your hot-tempered little friend wants a piece of me, let her try to take it." The cause of their altercation purred condescendingly into the silence.
"There would be no 'try' involved. I can mop the floor with you." Sara curled her lip, anger redirected back where it belonged. The dancer might have her for reach, but that was hardly new to her, she regularly boxed with men who were at least Carmelita's height.
"Ladies, please," Ian broke in, trying to be the voice of reason.
"Pretty big talk for someone who's hiding behind their boyfriend." Carmelita said at the same time.
"I am not hiding, I'm being restrained, for which you should be eternally grateful," Sara pulled harder, twisting her wrist to try and break Ian's hold, as she spoke. She wasn't getting anywhere, his grip was very firm, but she continued her efforts anyway.
"Remind me to be terrified," the retort was worthy of any school ground, but the smooth, cultured tone of the speaker elevated it to a whole new level of contempt.
"You are not helping," Ian said as he glanced over his shoulder at Carmelita, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice.
"Why should I? She was going to attack me for enforcing the house rules, and it's 'my' house."
"Oh please. You cut in because you're hot for 'my' man." Sara laid as strong an emphasis on the same word as her opponent had. If intimidation wouldn't work, she'd try mockery and imitation.
"Que?" the word was filled with wounded innocence.
"I saw you staring at his ass." Sara shot back with venom.
"I can hardly deny that he is muy macho," Carmelita let her eyes rove over Ian again before continuing, "but surely looking is not a trespass worthy of such ire."
Sara could not speak around her irritation. The damn woman had just looked Ian over like he was some prize stud. Pez was vaguely surprised Carmelita hadn't asked to see his teeth. Her eyes narrowed as her glare kicked up a notch. Looks might not be reputed to kill, but Sara was willing to try until she could get her fist back from Nottingham.
"Unless... he is not truly yours?" Carmelita arched a brow in speculation.
"Oh, he's mine all right." Sara's tone was dry. Carmelita was barking up the wrong tree with that one, the man practically lived on her fire escape. She though about all the times she'd tried to get rid of him, and failed. No, he was hers whether she liked it or not.
It wasn't her fault if she had only recently decided that might not be a bad thing. Sara had hardly had five minutes peace to think in since they met, just before the shoot-out at the museum. Not exactly quality personal time...Nottingham's seemingly blind devotion to the wishes of his employer, coupled with his annoying tendency to answer her in riddles, had not helped clarify the matter any either.
"Hmmm. Let's test that theory, shall we?" Carmelita smiled up at Ian seductively.
"What did you have in mind?" Sara asked suspiciously, giving up freeing her wrist to step forward, moving as far between Ian and Carmelita as she could.
Nottingham was suddenly between the two women. He moved so fast he seemed not to move so much as just appear. Anyone who blinked had missed the swift motion. Those who had not were not sure what they'd seen. That kind of speed bordered on the supernatural. A ripple of unease passed through the onlookers.
Ian could feel the attention and cursed inside his head. So much for a discreet testing of the relationship waters before risking Kenneth's anger. He'd be lucky indeed if this little dust-up didn't come to Irons attention. Nottingham could only hope that no one would recognize him, dressed as he was. If any of them did, they would delight in telling Kenneth the little on dit.
He caught Sara's fist in his palm. Nottingham had to minimize the gossip potential, and striking the owner of a very prominent new club would put them on the front of the society page. That Irons would see for himself over breakfast. Ian would likely be toast by the end of Kenneth's grapefruit.
Sara looked up in shock. She hadn't seen him move, but somehow he had gone from being beside her to being in front of her, capturing a punch that had laid men out in the boxing arena.
If it hurt him, he didn't let it show. Nottingham's face was calm, neutral, blank. Only his eyes gave anything away. There was a slight flinching that told her he was terribly uncomfortable with the situation. Sara realized that as much as Ian stayed in the shadows, being thrust into the middle of a scene must be very hard on his nerves.
Well too bad for him. She wasn't worried what a bunch of strangers thought of her, and she didn't care if they watched while little miss can't- mind-her-own-business got what was coming to her. It would probably be very educational for them.
"Let go." Sara growled as she tested his grip with a small tug.
"I do not believe that would be wise." Ian had looked deep into her eyes before speaking. He could see that she was still very angry, and so opted to keep hold of her fist. He would also keep a weather eye out for any other flying appendage. One hand held did not a captive make, especially if that limb belonged to Sara Pezzini.
"I don't care what you think Nottingham, let me go. Now!" Sara barked at him like he was a rookie at a crime scene.
"How can you ask that of me? I do not want to ever let you go." Ian said softly, but sincerely, deliberately misunderstanding her statement. He had noted that he had been relegated back to 'Nottingham', a sure sign he was no longer in Sara's good graces, but he had to try anyway
"Then we are going to have one Hell of a problem when I need to go to the bathroom." Sara knew the humor was inappropriate, but couldn't help it.
The joking was a defense mechanism, a way for Sara to distance herself when she started to get too involved in something. Pezzini did not want to examine the mingled joy and fear she had felt at Ian's statement, so she made light of his declaration. All cops did it, especially when something hit close to home, leading those on the outside to think them insensitive and crass.
Sara could see the reproach in those dark brown eyes. She shifted her weight slightly; ready to give Nottingham a good kick, anything to get away from the guilt rising in her. He looked like a puppy again, one that she had struck. Pez hated that look; it made her feel like she was a heartless bastard. The sensation made her defensive and, surprise, surprise, angrier.
"If your hot-tempered little friend wants a piece of me, let her try to take it." The cause of their altercation purred condescendingly into the silence.
"There would be no 'try' involved. I can mop the floor with you." Sara curled her lip, anger redirected back where it belonged. The dancer might have her for reach, but that was hardly new to her, she regularly boxed with men who were at least Carmelita's height.
"Ladies, please," Ian broke in, trying to be the voice of reason.
"Pretty big talk for someone who's hiding behind their boyfriend." Carmelita said at the same time.
"I am not hiding, I'm being restrained, for which you should be eternally grateful," Sara pulled harder, twisting her wrist to try and break Ian's hold, as she spoke. She wasn't getting anywhere, his grip was very firm, but she continued her efforts anyway.
"Remind me to be terrified," the retort was worthy of any school ground, but the smooth, cultured tone of the speaker elevated it to a whole new level of contempt.
"You are not helping," Ian said as he glanced over his shoulder at Carmelita, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice.
"Why should I? She was going to attack me for enforcing the house rules, and it's 'my' house."
"Oh please. You cut in because you're hot for 'my' man." Sara laid as strong an emphasis on the same word as her opponent had. If intimidation wouldn't work, she'd try mockery and imitation.
"Que?" the word was filled with wounded innocence.
"I saw you staring at his ass." Sara shot back with venom.
"I can hardly deny that he is muy macho," Carmelita let her eyes rove over Ian again before continuing, "but surely looking is not a trespass worthy of such ire."
Sara could not speak around her irritation. The damn woman had just looked Ian over like he was some prize stud. Pez was vaguely surprised Carmelita hadn't asked to see his teeth. Her eyes narrowed as her glare kicked up a notch. Looks might not be reputed to kill, but Sara was willing to try until she could get her fist back from Nottingham.
"Unless... he is not truly yours?" Carmelita arched a brow in speculation.
"Oh, he's mine all right." Sara's tone was dry. Carmelita was barking up the wrong tree with that one, the man practically lived on her fire escape. She though about all the times she'd tried to get rid of him, and failed. No, he was hers whether she liked it or not.
It wasn't her fault if she had only recently decided that might not be a bad thing. Sara had hardly had five minutes peace to think in since they met, just before the shoot-out at the museum. Not exactly quality personal time...Nottingham's seemingly blind devotion to the wishes of his employer, coupled with his annoying tendency to answer her in riddles, had not helped clarify the matter any either.
"Hmmm. Let's test that theory, shall we?" Carmelita smiled up at Ian seductively.
"What did you have in mind?" Sara asked suspiciously, giving up freeing her wrist to step forward, moving as far between Ian and Carmelita as she could.