Cruel

by Claire St. Rose

  There was a lull as the crowd began to disperse, and Luke took the opportunity to walk over and kiss his woman. Shayla’s lips were sweet from the treats she’d sampled, and he chuckled against them. “Someone’s been a naughty girl.”

  “Don’t you know it.” She wrapped her arms around him briefly, then pushed him away before the kiss got too out of hand.

  Luke caught Anthony scowling at him from across the room, and he sent a smirk back at him. Who did that guy think he was? In one week Shayla and Luke had knocked him down from his high horse. It was them that he answered to now, and Anthony hated it. But hey, it was what the people wanted.

  And it was sweeter than anything Luke had sold today.

  “I have a phone call to make, so I’m just going to wait in the car for you,” said Shayla. “Is that okay?”

  Luke nodded and released her, watching as she practically skipped over to her car. He couldn’t wait for the victory sex they’d be having—within the hour, if possible.

  Luke’s mood took a sour dive when Anthony slid up to him. “I need to talk to you.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you.” Luke attempted to budge past Anthony, but Anthony shook his head.

  “You’re going to want to see this.”

  It was the wording that caught Luke’s attention. See this? He followed Anthony into the adjoining tattoo parlor, which was devoid of people.

  “What is it, Blake?” Luke growled through gritted teeth.

  Anthony smirked and held up his phone in front of Luke’s face. Luke knew what the video would be before Anthony even hit play. It was him and Shayla, fucking in the cemetery like a pair of wild animals. She was screaming, he was grunting, it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

  Except nobody else should have ever seen it.

  “Raven gave you this?”

  Anthony nodded, pulling the phone back and slipping it in his pocket. “And I’m going to post it online unless you break up with Shayla right now.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Oh, I would. And it’ll ruin her career—poor thing. I doubt she’ll stay with you after that. And, as a fun bonus, Raven will finally have the proof that she needs to divorce you and take you for everything you own.”

  Luke bristled with rage. Everything was tinted red, and he practically feel the vein pulsing on his forehead. “And what’s to say if I break up with Shayla, you won’t just do it anyways, huh?” He squared up with Anthony. “You like to play the tough guy, so why not just duke this out with me right now?”

  Anthony clicked his tongue and shook his head. “This is way more fun. And way more my style. I’ll leave the smashing and hollering to the gorillas, thanks.”

  He stepped around Luke to leave, but Luke whirled on him and fisted Anthony’s shirt, pulling him up to Luke’s height. “If you do anything, it’ll be the last mistake you ever make.” He tossed Anthony down, to where he nearly lost his balance and fell to the ground.

  Still, that did little to stop the horrible laugh that pealed forth from Anthony’s lips as he left the tattoo parlor, triumphant.

  Chapter 3

  SHAYLA’S STOMACH FLUTTERED with a nervous excitement, her heels tapping along the linoleum on her way through the empty office spaces. Though no official decision had been made or broadcast yet, it was clear to her that her performance over the previous week could be seen as nothing short of exemplary.

  She had wrangled a sexy biker, gotten a week-long scoop that had gone viral nationwide, and had captured the beating heart of her city. All while still technically an intern. They were impressive feats, to be sure. And Shayla was beaming with pride and satisfaction.

  She wondered where her career would go next. It was full of potential. Her only true anxiety was that if she did manage to make it out of Templeton, as she’d always dreamed, she didn’t know what Luke would do. Would he stay? Would he go with her? Would she end up staying for him?

  Oh god, no. No. She couldn’t stay. Not for anyone. As much as she cared for Luke, and enjoyed the wild sex and searing passion they shared, there was no way she could or would sacrifice her dream in order to accommodate the needs of someone else.

  Shayla had been working in the trenches trying to swat off roaming hands and unfair stereotypes for too long. It was time for her day in the sun.

  But anyway, she was getting ahead of herself. She always tended to do that when she was nervous about something. And Shayla was a little nervous, more than she dared let on, about what work would bring for her now that her broadcast with Luke was over. Naomi was still going through her rehab program, and as far as Shayla knew they hadn’t hired another news anchor, so it seemed like Shayla’s job as an anchor was still safe. But for how long? Would they hire someone else? After all, reporting recorded segments to air on the news wasn’t the same as presenting the news live. What if she wasn’t good enough? What if they decided she didn’t have the right spark to continue live reporting, and got her to fill her schedule with more and more investigative pieces?

  Shayla huffed a breath and stepped into the newsroom. That would be fine, she decided, heaving a glance at the crappy intern desk in the corner of the room. It would be fine, because at least then she would have stepped out of her role as an intern. She might not be able to land a great job overnight, though she had her hopes, but she could at least say that her job wasn’t primarily coffee jockey anymore.

  “There you are!” Amy called from across the room. “I was hoping you’d come in early. I wanted to talk to you about another piece.”

  Shayla set her mouth in a grim line as the smaller woman, headset perfectly in place, approached her with bright eyes. Shayla had never seen Amy look so excited.

  “So I guess the network executives liked the week of biker coverage?” Shayla commented. She’d had check ins with Amy periodically during the week, but Mr. Putnam and Mr. Green, who made the important broadcasting decisions, had said they were reserving their full comments until the close of the piece.

  Amy nodded her head emphatically. “Big time.” She paused, screwing up her mouth. “Well, they liked the numbers, at least. I got the impression they didn’t actually watch much footage.”

  Shayla chuckled and shrugged. “Well, they wanted viewership. We got them viewers.”

  Amy tucked an errant strand of brown hair behind her ear. “That’s for damn sure. They’ve given us a little more flexibility in terms of budget and in content. They want to see what you can come up with for a new story.”

  Shayla’s heart beat a little faster. “I’m coming up with the next story by myself?”

  Amy’s eyes widened. “No! I’m here with you.”

  Amy was good at kitten stories, and not much else. So basically, yes, Shayla was going to need to figure out some impressive story ideas. But that was what investigative reporting was, after all; finding the story and going after it. She’d just always seen herself as more of an anchor type...well. She was sure that she could figure something.

  “When do they want us to start something new?”

  Amy glanced down at the watch on her wrist, leading Shayla to believe for a moment that she had hours instead of days or weeks. But when she looked back up it was with a face of sudden realization.

  “I’ve got to run!” She gave a parting wave to Shayla. “I’ll talk to you about it later, but go see Putnam and Green tomorrow when they’re in the office. They have more details about what they’re looking for.”

  Amy hurried off, her hips swinging as she began to corral people from lighting into a huddle in the back, presumably to discuss a patch of faulty wiring or another otherwise KTMA-esque usual occurrence.

  Shayla sighed and walked to the other side of the room, where a small hallway led off, ending in an emergency exit that flickered in the dim lighting. She turned into the last door on the right and tossed her purse onto the wooden desk. She’d gotten a new office, finally. The “straight maze” as it was sometimes called was the tiny offshoot of the newsro
om where the night workers got their space. She’d only ever seen Amy use her office when she was near catatonic with stress, doubled over on her office chair and swinging idly around. Amy got in before the rest of them did and did some sort of work in her office before preparing for broadcast, but since Shayla never got to see that part of her it was as if it didn’t exist.

  Anthony and Naomi had used their offices quite frequently. Anthony still did. Though the two had been attached at the hip and had spent much of their time in one another’s offices, they didn’t actually share one as Shayla had originally thought when she started. She was glad, because that would have meant that now she had to share an office with Anthony.

  Gross.

  Thankfully, Shayla got Naomi’s old office. While it shared a wall with Anthony’s, she didn’t usually have to see him or talk to him until they went to makeup. Unless he made his presence known, that is, but for the past week she’d been coming in close to the broadcast after spending the day with Luke, so she hadn’t spent much time in her office

  Now she was in her office, and suddenly Anthony appeared like a summoned demon.

  His figure took up most of the door frame. He was a muscular guy, but not in the same way as Luke. There was something off about his figure, like he’d been sculpted rather than grown. Shayla was sure that some women would have found it appealing, but not her. She was more interested in guys who didn’t look like tanned pieces of leather.

  “Hey, you,” he said jovially, fixing her with a very white and extremely expensive smile.

  Shayla’s eyes met his, much as she wished she could avoid the contact. “Hi. What’s up?”

  He swaggered into the office—an impressive gait in such a small space—and perched at the edge of her desk. “You and I need to have a chat. We haven't seen each other in a while.”

  And oh, how wonderful that had been. A week where she only saw the bare minimum of Anthony, and where she saw the most of Luke—that was Shayla’s idea of heaven.

  She hadn’t realized that giving up her crappy intern position and her little hovel of a desk in the corner of the newsroom would mean that she had to endure a new type of torture at the hands of Anthony Blake. She wondered idly, staring at his orange complexion and gelled hair, if it had been worth it. Sure, she would never have made it to the big leagues from her tiny intern desk, and sure, in communications classes she would have killed for a break like the one she had right now, but it was hard not to miss the veil of anonymity would have meant that Shayla was mostly free from Anthony’s leering.

  “Yes, I’ve been busy,” Shayla commented, smiling at the thought of how her taking the lead on the motorcycle club story probably irked him to no end.

  He’d wanted to do more of the coverage himself, of course, but Luke simply wouldn’t allow it. The story had been handpicked for Shayla’s touch, Luke had said. And he just hated Anthony Blake. Who wouldn’t? The smug asshole was great from afar, when you were watching him through miles of fiber optic cables from the safety of your own home, but he was an absolute menace in person.

  Shayla wasn’t sure why Anthony was even speaking to her now, but there was nothing good about him being in her office this long before the broadcast.

  “I saw that. You did a great job, newbie.” He winked conspiratorially. “I really felt like you got into the heart of the matter. Even if you did glaze over some of the less wholesome aspects.”

  Shayla gritted her teeth. She had shown exactly everything there was to see from Luke and his crew at present. Luke had been involved in some more risqué activities in the past, but he was all about keeping things above board and lawful now. He was a good man, and Anthony knew that. He was just trying to bait her.

  Shayla wouldn’t take it.

  “Thank you, Anthony.” She blinked and forced a grin. “I’ve got lots of work to do though, do you mind closing the door behind you when you go?”

  It was everything Shayla could do not to just yell at him to get out, but she had to keep her cool.

  Anthony did close the door, but he wasn’t on the other side of it when he did. He turned back to face her, not making any sort of quick explanation for why he’d clearly gone against her wishes.

  When he was still standing there looking smug after a couple seconds of Shayla peering up at him, with a quizzical expression on her face, it was time to ask. “Can I help you with something else, Anthony?”

  He cackled, the abrupt noise jarring Shayla and causing her to jump slightly in her seat. Her pulse quickened. What was he going to do? Why did he look so deliriously pleased with himself?

  Anthony slid onto the desk facing her, leaning down toward her face. His knees just brushed the tops of her fingers on the desk, and she retracted her hands quickly and slid back. He leisurely allowed his eyes to roam across her figure, causing her to flush with anger and humiliation. She was just about to yell at him to leave and threaten to call him out in front of everyone for his poor behavior, when Anthony pulled out his cell phone.

  “You know, I love the internet.” His gaze landed on the screen of his phone, though Shayla dared not let her attention wander. “There are so many things to see. Photos of cats. Videos of cats.” His eyes flicked to hers. “You get my drift.”

  Shayla nodded shortly. “Anthony, I really have work to do. Can you get to the point?” She tried to hide her anxiety behind a wall of confidence, but she worried he would see through the cracks to her quaking form beneath. Shayla could read through his posture and expression that Anthony had something big, and she knew she wasn’t going to like it.

  “I’m getting there. Humor me for a minute.” He looked back down at his phone and tapped a couple places on the screen. “I also love email. Did you know I get fan mail from all over the state?”

  Shayla found that hard to believe, but she forced a tight lipped smile. “That’s great. Good for you.”

  He nodded, his eyes still on the screen. Sound began to play quietly from the speakers. It was staticky and Shayla couldn’t decipher what was going on, but she could tell he was watching a video. Why was he wasting her time by watching videos in her office?

  “I got an email last week from an old friend of Luke’s, actually.”

  Shayla’s heart clenched in her chest. She wanted, for the first time, for Anthony to actually look at her. At least then she might be able to tell where this conversation was going. For now, he was completely in control, and there was no telling where this train of thought would end up.

  The video he was watching sounded like there was a faint whining sound in the distance. She could only hear it quietly, and closer to the microphone were snickers and breathing.

  “Do you want to see what they sent me?” Anthony’s eyes finally shot up to Shayla’s, and she nodded fiercely. He smirked and tapped on the screen, presumably restarting the video, and turned it so she could see.

  At first Shayla couldn’t tell what it was. The video was dark and pixelated, and she had the disadvantage of no context to help frame the image. Then it became horrifyingly clear. The video was of Luke and her in the graveyard—her writhing beneath him, him glorious and brutal, screwing her within an inch of her life. Now that she understood what the video was, she could tell that the sounds she’d heard were actually her screaming in pleasure.

  And it was definitely her. There would be no mistaking her face and Luke’s distinctive tattoos if she tried to contest that she was the subject of the video.

  Shayla looked back up at Anthony, her expression marred with hatred and fear. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could nearly feel it cracking against her ribs in a violent bid to escape. Her vision blurred ever-so-slightly, hands and face hot and cold at the same time. She recognized the symptoms of a panic attack. She tried to forget Anthony’s presence and focus her efforts on breathing to stave it off.

  “What is that?” she asked when her breath had returned enough for her to do so.

  She already knew what it was, and she knew Anthon
y knew that. Her question had really been meant to ask why he had it and what he was going to do with it. Things she couldn’t bear to ask properly.

  He pulled back his phone and glanced at the screen, a smile growing on his lips. “That is an exceptionally nice pair of tits bouncing as a woman’s career ends before it’s begun.” He clicked the lock button on his phone and slipped it back into his pocket, smacking a hand on the thigh where it rested as if bidding it a good night.

  “Anthony.” Shayla didn’t know what else to say. Was this the part where she pleaded for his mercy? Should she be throwing herself at his feet? Or was the damage already too far done for her to be able to fix it by lowering herself to his level?

  “I love hearing you say my name.” His mouth twitched with amusement. “I think I’d like to hear you say it more often. Why don’t you come over for dinner the day after tomorrow? When we both have the night off?”

  Her breathing hitched. She didn’t know what else she could have expected from him. He was a cruel monster, and that was the kind of thing that cruel monsters did. Disgusting.

  “You want me to come have dinner with you?” she repeated slowly.

  Anthony nodded, leisurely standing from the desk, signaling their conversation was due to be over soon. “Maybe a couple drinks. We can see where things go.” The disgusting pig actually winked.

  There was no argument where things were going to go at her dinner and drinks rendezvous with Anthony. The only question that remained was whether Shayla had the guts or not.

  “I’ll consider it.” She gulped, her eyes struggling to keep contact with his.

  His eyes narrowed. “I don’t like having plans up in the air, Shayla.” He enunciated her name like a curse word. “Either you’re coming or you’re not.”

  Goddamnit! How could he do this to her? How could anyone do this to another person? Shayla supposed the world was filled with assholes and cheats. It was only natural that she should have to deal with one of them someday.

  “Fine,” she bit out. “I’ll come for dinner.” She could hardly bring herself to say the word dinner, knowing what it implied.