by Ashley Hall
And then, suddenly, Sadie and I were alone.
That dress of hers really was atrocious. I found myself wondering what she’d say if I asked to take her shopping. To find her some slinky silk numbers that clung to her curves and showed off that divine figure that she was hiding.
I fucking hated shopping. Seemed like that was all women wanted to do, especially when it was your money they were spending. But something told me it would be a fight just to get Sadie through the front entrance of a mall, let alone buying her anything.
It was a challenge I was prepared to take on.
At least, once we got over all the bullshit from last night.
She certainly wasn’t saying anything, so that meant it fell to me. Me, the guy who barely finished grade school. Fucking fantastic.
“Look, Sadie,” I started, running a hand through my hair as I realized how damn awkward this was. When was the last time I apologized to a woman for anything? “I’m sorry. I really am. Last night I got a little hot-headed and I…” Fuck. Who was good with words? “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
What I meant to do was take her home to my penthouse and worship her fucking gorgeous body until she couldn’t remember which way was up.
At my apology, she stared slightly before finally raising her gaze from her phone to meet mine directly. For the first time in three hours.
God, she had the most gorgeous eyes—dark brown shot through with shades of honey and chocolate. When she looked at me like that it was hard not to jerk her to me and kiss that sweet mouth of hers breathless.
“Actually, Griffin, I think I’m the one that owes you an apology.”
Well, fuck. For a moment, I was so shocked I could only stare at her. What did she have to apologize for?
Visibly taking a deep breath, sweet Sadie soldiered on. “Last night was…a mistake. I made a mistake. I was unprofessional at dinner and you…you were just doing what you do afterwards.”
What I do? What the hell was that supposed to mean?
I tried to choose my next words carefully. “So…does that mean you forgive me?”
The smile she gave me didn’t quite reach her eyes. All at once, I felt it in my gut: this wasn’t going to end well. “There’s nothing to forgive. Everyone knows you’re Griffin Webb. You had a bit too much to drink before a media encounter. And I…” Her smile faded somewhat and she looked away from me again.
God-fucking-dammit.
“We need to keep things between us professional. It would be best for both parties involved.”
Since when were we parties? I thought we were people? People with some goddamned blazing chemistry.
I stared, trying to wrap my head around what she was saying. She didn’t want me anymore. Last night was it. There wasn’t going to be a repeat and there certainly wasn’t going to be a shopping trip.
I was a fucking moron.
But the last thing I needed was to let her know that.
Sliding into the mask of neutrality that got me through most of my fights, I shrugged. “Sure. I got it.” Why the hell did this bother me so much? It wasn’t like I had never given a woman the boot before. Hell, I’d kicked some of the crazier ones out of my room half naked. It was in my nature.
But I hadn’t been rejected in…what? Over a goddamned decade.
Sadie’s smile got a little more genuine at my not-so-genuine reply. “Okay. Great. I’m glad we can both be adults about it.”
No. Adults would make up somewhere dark and comfortable, fucking themselves into sated exhaustion. This was pretentious and uncomfortable.
And it hurt.
“I’ll send you a copy of the article as soon as it’s gone through the editors at Grind. You’ll be the first to see it.” She held out her hand for me to shake, her slender fingers absolutely steady. Looking at them, I could only remember how her thighs had trembled as I made her come the previous night. Twice.
“Sounds good,” I grunted, clasping her hand briefly for the split second before pencil-necked Gary emerged from Riley’s office. His smile was the only genuine one among us as he babbled on about how excited he was to edit the images. He had me sign a couple of autographs for him and his friends before promising to contact me with the re-touched images.
And then, just like that, it was time for them to go.
Gary gushed his way down the stairs to the main entrance, while Sadie maintained her distance. She met my eyes briefly one last time, waving before she followed her associate out and into the late summer afternoon.
And I watched her go.
She didn’t want me anymore.
Well, I could fucking deal with that. I’d deal with it in the same way I dealt with everything else: I’d bury it. Excellent fuel for my next match.
Dario Desmond, my opponent, would have no idea what hit him.
***
Though I was usually ready to call it quitting time around four or five, I stayed late to work with Ross and some of the other guys after Riley went home. I needed to be good and exhausted to be able to sleep that night, and I sure as hell didn’t want to think of Sadie.
If I did, I might lose my goddamn mind.
With every strike I took, I repeated to myself that she was gone. She didn’t want anything else to do with me…and maybe that was for the best.
Who the hell was I kidding? I was in a sour fucking mood for the rest of the day, and the only way I knew how to deal with it was to keep myself busy.
It was probably around eight or nine by the time I finally prepared to leave the gym and the locker room was completely isolated. I took a long shower, unworried about running out the hot water. Despite the fact that I’d been beating up people and bags all day, my fingers still itched with the desire to make contact. With anything.
I was forced to leave the shower stall before Riley’s décor suffered for it, and I dressed quickly. Maybe I still needed to run a few miles. If I went home with all this shit still pent up inside, I was liable to drink—and it wouldn’t be bubbly this time. I had a full bar in the kitchen, and when I wanted to, I could go hard.
Riley would be pissed as hell. We had a deal that I wouldn’t drink in the week leading up to a fight.
So that meant I was going to make a few laps around the park.
I had a set of keys that Riley had given me a while ago, so it was no trial to lock up after I left. What was inconvenient, however, was the group of thugs who were waiting for me in the shadows where the streetlamps couldn’t reach.
I could have smelled him from a mile away. The stench of fucking caviar and cheap cologne was disgusting. Turning, I repressed a groan. Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any worse.
“Ivan, it’s late. What the fuck do you want?”
“Well, since you’re in such a hurry, Griffin, I’ll get right to the point.” The thickly accented tone was enough to make my skin crawl and I dropped my bag near the entryway of the gym, preparing for trouble. Of course, Ivan’s entire crew accompanied him, and none of them looked happy to see me.
The Russian himself stepped into the glow of the streetlight, and, for once, I wondered where the hell the cops were when you actually needed them. “You’ve a match at the end of this week, don’t you? Against Desmond?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The sooner Ivan stated his business, the sooner I could blow him off and get to the park.
“When you win, as we know you’re going to, I think about thirty percent will cover your debts.”
Debts? God, Ivan and his fucking debts. “Ivan, this is the last time I’m going to tell you: I don’t owe you shit. I haven’t juiced for years, and you need to get the fuck off your high horse. I don’t owe you anything. I never will.”
I had to admit, after the previous day, I didn’t really think he was going to let me get off so easily. I wasn’t disappointed.
Ivan’s smile was hard and threatening as he gestured to one of his meathead slaves. “Well, it’s a shame you feel that way, Griff. P
erhaps I’ll have to work to convince you.”
Well, there were five of him and only one of me. Of course, the street was absolutely deserted, unless you counted the few cars that sped past every now and again. The thug who was so intent on teaching me a lesson took a wicked-looking butterfly knife out of his pocket and my scowl deepened.
Fuck.
I was too exhausted for this.
“Look, I don’t know how much Ivan is paying you,” I planted my feet, never taking my eyes off the giant, “but I can almost guarantee it’s not enough for a new fucking face.”
“Pretty tough words, considering I’m going to turn yours to ribbons.” Great. Another Russian. Classic Ivan.
The massive man moved pretty fast, but I was lighter. And I’d been training to evade idiots like him for half my life. I ducked under his long arms and delivered a knee to his abdomen that stole all his breath. He was gigantic, but a lot of that mass was yielding. While he attempted to shank the shit out of me, I hit him once in the groin, once on the shoulder, and head-butted him hard enough that stars burst to life before my vision.
While I was still recovering, a sharp sting burned its way across my cheek, followed by the warm rush of blood. Cursing, I leapt back, clutching my jaw and feeling at the thin but deep cut the thug had managed to get in.
I needed to end this.
No matter how slow the idiot was, if he got lucky enough, he could gut me. And, atop that, any time Ivan felt like his generosity was running out, he could decide to sick his other goons on me.
So I went back to my dirty roots.
Crouching, I picked up a brick from the gym’s crumbling architecture. The next time Ivan’s hitman leapt at me, I demolished it right against the back of his head.
He dropped like a stone, blood splattering everywhere.
For a long minute there was nothing but silence on the stretch of sidewalk between us. Ivan looked from his guy to me and then back again. I was pretty sure I hadn’t killed the shmuck. Caused some serious brain damage, maybe, but he’d be no worse off than he was before.
Me, on the other hand? Ivan had cut up my face. My publicist was going to have a fucking field day. Smearing blood over my chin, I faced down the Russian, praying that I wasn’t going to have to take down all of his fucking guys. I might be a brute, but brutes had limits. And I’d already had a long day.
To my surprise, Ivan’s mouth simply curved into a thin, cold smile as he held his hands up in front of himself in surrender. “Alright, alright. You win, Griffin. This time.” At the wave of his hands, his remaining goon squad scrambled to collect their fallen member. “Just know that I’m watching you. And my people are watching you.”
I snorted, blood still rushing with adrenaline. “They’re welcome to their very own bricks, Ivan. It’s a two for one special.”
Thankfully, he just left me there, bleeding like a stuck pig, as I considered my own luck. There was absolutely nothing that kept the man from siccing the rest of his dogs on me. He could have had me, right then and right there.
So what stopped him?
Cursing like a sailor, I bent to grab my bag, prepared to head for the hospital. My face was going to need a few stitches, and I could only pray that whatever they gave me for the pain didn’t knock me out. As I bit my lip in frustration, surprisingly, I found myself thinking, not of what Ivan might have in store for me…but about Sadie.
If things had tuned out alright between us…if she had been with me when I came out of the gym…what the fuck would have happened to sweet Sadie?
I couldn’t even imagine. And, somehow, I was glad I would never have to find out.
Sadie
It couldn’t just be over, could it?
What I had imagined would turn out to be my big break was exactly that—it was breaking my head wide open with the memories that assaulted me day in and day out.
Griffin fucking Webb.
I was beginning to wish I’d never met him. Almost as much as my body craved him every waking moment I should be doing something else.
“How’s that article coming, girly?” When Stella plopped down next to me in an empty chair in the break room, I merely groaned, clutching my coffee cup to me like a lifeline. I had gotten perhaps seven hours of sleep the entire week. Every time I closed my eyes, vivid memories of how Griffin’s hands had felt roaming my bare skin kept me from getting very much rest. Though I’d told myself time and time again that I wasn’t the type to lounge in bed and pleasure myself, since meeting Griffin I had re-evaluated my stance.
On at least two occasions after editing his article, I rushed home and went for my vibrator at lightning speed.
Someone was punishing me, I knew. This was my comeuppance for spreading my legs for a man I barely knew.
“I just want to be done with it.” I groaned. I knew I must look a mess. I barely had the energy to take a brush to my hair that morning and everyone had given me weird looks the moment I walked into the office.
Of course, I couldn’t figure out if most of them were residual from having my face plastered all over the papers the previous week or if I just looked like I had just rolled out of bed.
At the memory of the morning after I had “interviewed” Griffin Webb, a fresh wave of shame washed over me and I buried my face in my arms. “God, Stella. Am I an idiot?”
“If you are,” She rubbed at my back soothingly, “you’re the luckiest idiot alive. You snagged Griffin Webb.”
“I didn’t snag him,” I immediately barked defensively. “I fucked him. Completely different. I was supposed to handle things like a professional and I blew it.”
Stella merely sighed. She knew me too well to be put off by my irritation. “Well, you get points for stepping out of your comfort zone.”
That was the understatement of the century. My comfort zone was so far beyond anything and everything that was Griffin Webb that the entire situation was utterly laughable. I’d gotten drunk and I let my baser desires take control.
It was pretty much the most un-Sadie thing I’d ever done in my entire life.
I’d dealt with my co-workers’ catcalls for the first three or four days in stolid silence, wallowing in my own misery as I was simultaneously assaulted with want for a man I couldn’t have.
Shouldn’t have.
I’d told him that things between us were going to remain professional, and I meant it. Even if every time I laid eyes on one of the images Gary had taken my mouth all but watered. How I had managed not to stare at the man while he put almost everyone in his gym through their paces, I’d never know. Not for the life of me.
I’d been able to smell him like a goddamned dog in heat. The salty, musky scent of him as he’d worked himself into a good sweat. I’d heard every grunt of impact and, several times, caught the gleam of moisture off the devastating network of his muscles.
What would it be like to see him completely naked, I wondered? In Filene’s, he’d barely undone his fly to get at me. I hadn’t had any opportunity at all to worship that glorious body of his.
Christ, what the hell was wrong with me?
This was completely unlike me. Usually after getting laid, I moped around for a few days, disappointed and telling myself how nice the guy was. Trying to work up the courage to try again. Mind you, being with any of my prior boyfriends hadn’t ended up with my name being emblazoned across the city headlines.
I thanked God my parents lived in another state.
All I had to do was finish the goddamned article and I would never have to deal with the man again. He would have made my career—as well as my sexual fantasies—for the foreseeable future.
Or, so I thought.
“Sadie!” Both Stella and I straightened at the appearance of our boss in the doorway of the break room. Alex, as usual, looked as someone had peed in his coffee—meaning that he was pissed off about something or the other. I hoped it wasn’t at me. I didn’t think I could take any more stress this week.
“What’s u
p, Alex?” I managed to croak, looking from him to Stella and then back again.
He leaned against the doorframe, considering me with intense gray eyes a moment before he spoke. “Been reading up on the first few drafts of the Webb piece you sent to me.”
Oh boy. I tensed, ready for the building to come crumbling down on my head. Alex kept me on a knife’s edge for a moment before he finally continued. “Good stuff.” The comment left him in a grunt that had my eyes widening. I’d struggled over every single word of that damned article, all but condemning it to be utter crap.
