“Jesus Christ, Rosie.” 

“Who are you, sir?” Mr. Hard asked.

“Who am I?” He repeated, walking into the room. “Get your hands off my damn daughter, you piece of crap.”

Mr hard and Mr soft immediately put some distance between us, as Henry came closer.

He touched my face softly.

“How much did you drink, Rosie?”

I hiccuped, staring at him with a woozy look. “Two?” I replied, raising four fingers.

He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them. “Her dress, where is it? He demanded.

“Here…” one of them said, handing my dress to him.

He snatched the dress, then picked me up bridal style and began walking out...