Feigning interest, Padmé summoned her liquid courage to glide over to Rush, giving him an alluring glance. She knew how to play her cards wisely. "So, what else do you know about Lord Vader?" she asked, swirling her hand around his arm while fluttering her eyelashes seductively.
Rush smiled, unaware of the manipulation. "I don't want to discuss him," he declared, leaning closer to the stunning woman beside him. "I only want to focus on us."
"Maybe on our next date," Padmé shook her head. "For now, I want to talk about…" She sighed, glancing around the room as if she were being watched. "Darth Vader."
He recoiled instantly, as if she had genuinely struck him. "Why are you so interested in him?" Rush erupted, irritated by the mention of the Sith's name. "Do you have a crush on him or something?"
"What? No!" Padmé exclaimed before she could regain her composure. Fortunately, the club's music was too loud for anyone to notice her outburst. "I'm just curious why you'd pick a fight with the most dangerous man in the universe?"
Rush's eyes flashed with anger for a moment before he laughed. "He's nothing but a slave; he won't kill me."
The room's temperature dropped significantly, causing Padmé to shiver. "You don't think so?"
"He hasn't killed me during the two times we've met," Rush pointed out with a smile. "He's simply afraid of me," he continued, boasting with an even larger grin. "If he were to kill me, all hell would break loose."
Padmé rolled her eyes, weary of his boasting and unable to feign attraction to such a foolish man. "You're a fool," she declared as she leaned away from his arm. "An idiot, truly."
"Excuse me?" he asked, bewildered by her sudden insult. He attempted but failed to move toward her.
"You're a fool," Padmé repeated, standing up and striving to seem strong and steady despite the rush of air from the sudden altitude change. "The only reason you're alive is that Vader needs you to live for some reason. If he didn't, you'd be dead. It's as simple as that."
Rush's face flushed with anger at Padmé's remark. "You have an inside connection to Vader that I'm not aware of?" he snapped, furious. "Because it certainly sounds like it."
"I'm not a fool," Padmé retorted, turning to walk away from the table in a dramatic exit, aware of his eyes on her.
She planned to move to another part of the club to avoid his gaze but found herself unable to stop. She wasn't sure where she was headed, but as she walked, she knew she had to escape. She felt truly foolish, realizing that she had sensed eyes on her all night yet had dismissed the feeling as mere nerves. She should have recognized that Rush Clovis had followed her and Dormé to the nightclub. She should have suspected it was his gaze she felt on her. Rush had been watching her, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. That nerf herder!
Subconsciously, she must have needed air, for she found herself alone sometime later, standing just outside the door by the back exit of the nightclub. She closed her eyes, inhaling the sticky air of Coruscant in the dark alley. The cold air rushed into her lungs like blaster fire, making her feel nearly twelve times sicker as it churned in her stomach. It was an unpleasant sensation, yet one that at least brought her some clarity. She didn't know what she was doing and didn't understand why she thought this would help—acting her age instead of feeling like a child. Nearly all twenty-one-year-olds were still children, so when had she ever truly acted her age? Never.
She let out a small groan as her hand rested on her stomach, her legs trembling and her mind darkening once more. Stupid.
I need to go home, she decided rationally, promising herself to leave after regaining her strength. However, it wasn't long before Padmé heard footsteps of someone who must have followed her. The steps came to a halt just outside the door, and the owner's eyes fixed on her back.
Rush, she thought, arriving at a quick conclusion. He must have followed.
"Can't you take a hint?" Padmé growled, turning to face Rush, prepared to deliver the speech of a lifetime until the words abruptly died on her lips. She gasped as she realized it was not Rush Clovis, but a man with black hair standing just outside the nightclub exit, wearing a vile grin and cold eyes that screamed shameless intentions.
"Alone at last," he smiled, shutting the door behind him. "We don't want any interruptions," he mused, flashing a wicked grin.
The door locked with a loud noise, signaling to Padmé that she could not exit. Her first thought was to fight. Although she was a skilled fighter, she typically performed better when armed... and unfortunately, she saw no blaster in sight.
Her mind told her it didn't matter because she could still take a stance, but her body was too filled with booze to work in sync. She attempted to take a strong position but was unable to; her head began to spin, and her legs felt like mush. The high heels she wore restricted her ability to kick effectively, and the tight dress limited her movement. Frantically searching for another solution, she scanned the area for a way out, but couldn't see any nearby. Surrounded by the darkness of the alley, the only exit was an opening at the far end, many buildings away… but could she make it?
The man shed his robe and tossed it to the ground, preparing for what was about to unfold. "You think you're too good for me, eh?" He began to approach her like a ravenous wolf, ready to seize its prey. "I'll show you how mistaken you are. You'll be begging for more of my common dick in that pretty little high society pussy of yours. Just you wait."
His words were like a dagger- sharp and horrifying. Padmé had never heard anyone speak to another that way, especially not to her.
Padmé tried to escape but was swiftly seized by strong arms that pressed her against the cold metal wall. He pressed his mouth against her neck, kissing her roughly, his teeth biting at her flesh. She squirmed in his grip, freeing one hand to strike his face.
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