by Hart, Romi
Squaring her shoulders, Reesa nodded and pulled out of his embrace to check herself one more time. “Okay, let’s get out of here before I rethink it.”
The car waited downstairs, and Reesa let herself daydream a little. Being in the back of a limo, riding through the heart of New York with its bright lights with a truly wonderful and sexy man beside her should have seemed surreal. Instead, it felt comfortable and exciting so that, by the time they arrived to walk an actual red carpet, she practically bounced in her seat.
She spotted several movie stars, and she recognized one of her favorite singers who had formerly been named with this honor. But as enthusiastic as she was about mingling with all of them, she found it far more satisfying that she was here with Marc. She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and held her head high as they walked past flashing cameras and dozens of people watching and hollering from the street behind guarded barricades.
“Are you alright?” Marc spoke in a low tone by her ear, concerned, and Reesa realized she was trembling.
Beaming up at him, she said, “I’m wonderful. I’m on an adrenaline rush, I think.” She clung tighter to him, trying to control herself, but her senses were overwhelmed. She couldn’t take it all in fast enough. She hadn’t thought about having to pose for a photo, but like every other couple, Marc stood them at the end of the carpet and turned to face the cameras, offering a charming smile that made her grin, too.
After that, she welcomed the dim lighting inside, the candles on the dinner tables and the lack of bright lights flashing in her eyes. She searched the crowd milling around for Kylie and Jordan but didn’t find them and settled for seeking out the table at front and center where they would sit. Having found the place cards reserved for them, she let Marc pull out her chair like a gentleman, only to be assailed by the exuberant squeals of her best friend as the other couple rushed toward them.
“I can’t believe I’m really here!” Kylie cried, hugging Reesa so tight she couldn’t breathe. “This is amazing. And you’re the star here, with this hunk of man you’ve got wrapped around your little finger.”
Reesa rolled her eyes, blushing. “It’s not like that.”
“I beg to differ,” Marc cut in with a chuckle. “Because I would do anything for you. You should know that by now.”
Speechless, she just stared at him, enraptured by his dedication to her and the fact that he would openly state it in front of not only her best friend but his. Jordan obviously had his concerns about Reesa, and she had all but gone toe to toe with him a couple of times to stand up for herself. She’d assured him more than once that she had Marc’s best interests at heart, just as he did.
Now, though, Jordan simply shook his head and smiled as a waiter came through and handed them flutes of champagne. “Whipped, I tell you.”
Kylie narrowed her eyes at him. “There’s nothing wrong with being a slave to love, if you find the right person.”
“I never said otherwise.” His blue eyes sparkled, and Reesa’s heart swelled for Kylie. Apparently, that relationship was flourishing, and she was so happy for her friend.
A half-hour later, the ceremony began, jokes raunchy and speeches sentimental. When it was Marc's turn, he was not only eloquent but charismatic to the point that no one could take their eyes off him. As he wrapped up his speech, he said, "Of everyone I have to thank for my career and the blessings in my life, I most of all want to give my gratitude and my love to Miss Theresa Brighton. She's the light of my life and the strength behind everything I do today. Without her, none of this means anything, and I am the luckiest man in the world to have such a smart, beautiful, and confident woman at my side."
Shocked, Reesa met his gaze, finding it hard to believe he’d announced that to the mixed crowd. Marc was a pillar of the community, and aside from the scandal she’d brought into his life, he was above reproach in every way. Sure, people had talked about his supposed exploits with women, but that was different. He never lied about things, and now, she didn’t believe all the hype anyway. Giving such credence to her personality would go a long way in repairing Reesa’s reputation.
Marc came down from the stage and pulled her to her feet, kissing her soundly in front of all the celebrities and reporters in attendance. For one brief moment, she basked in the spotlight, and then she was glad it was over. She didn’t like being the center of attention, but it sure felt good to show the world that Marc belonged to her.
Afterward, the reception ensued, and Marc was subjected to several short interviews. Reesa drank enough champagne to leave her lightheaded, and by the time they said their goodnights and headed for the car, she felt gloriously uninhibited.
It irked her when she heard a group of women calling out to Marc, asking for his autograph, but she assumed they would ignore the fans. Instead, Marc steered her in the direction of the small group, a cocky smile on his face showing his dimple in the moonlight. “Ladies, calm down. There’s plenty to go around,” he told them in a rich, lilting voice.
Reesa stared at him, jaw slack, as he reached for the first girl, who held out a t-shirt with his number on it and a Sharpie. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked.
“Morgan,” she said, nearly in tears with idol worship.
He signed it ‘with love’ before continuing the process for the other three girls with her. “Now, you gorgeous ladies be safe, and have a wonderful night. Sweet dreams.” He winked at them and then patted Reesa’s hand as he guided her back to where their car had pulled up.
Furious, Reesa jerked away from him and glared. “What was that?”
Marc blinked at her, confused. “What are you talking about?”
She scoffed. “Don’t play dumb, Marc. ‘Sweetheart. Sweet dreams. Gorgeous ladies.’” She made a face. “What the hell was that?”
He rolled his eyes with a playful smile. “It’s just pandering to the fans. Come on, you’re not jealous, are you? It’s part of the job. It has nothing to do with you or us. I love you, Reesa. I’m with you.”
Her expression hardened, and she crossed her arms, suddenly cold, even though she wore her long coat. “Anyone who saw that would have second guessed it. You sounded like a player over there, and not the kind on the field.”
Scowling, Marc countered, “You haven’t said anything like that to me since we first met. What’s gotten into you tonight? Did you have a little too much champagne?”
It was the wrong thing to say, and Reesa's anger flared. "How could you be so self-righteous? That's completely offensive, especially after making me feel cheap for being the woman on your arm while you flirted with four other girls who were way too young for you anyway."
His scowl deepened. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Like I said, it’s part of the job. You cater to the fans so they keep coming back, whether it’s because they like you or the like the sport. It’s what any soccer player – or any sports figure – would do. Are you really going to fault me for it?”
Reesa was outraged, and her volume rose significantly. “Yes, I am. How far would you go to please those fans, Marc? Buy them dinner? Invite them to the press box at one of your games? Sleep with them?”
Reaching out to her, Marc spoke softly. “We can discuss this at home, okay? This isn’t the time or the place.”
“I don’t want to go home with you!” she cried. She knew she needed to bring it down a notch, but she felt betrayed. Her chest ached because she had thought it was a mistake, that he’d forgotten for a minute and acted like he was single by accident. But here he was, telling her there was nothing wrong with his actions. Reesa didn’t agree. In fact, she felt like he was taking her for granted and deciding her feelings weren’t valid.
“Please, Reesa, let’s discuss this in private,” he said, a quiet plea in his tone and a warning in his eyes.
She shook her head. “Or what, Marc? I see you have an ultimatum in mind. Let’s get it out in the open.” She managed to keep her voice down, but even she heard the venom that escaped
with the words. She’d had her fill of ultimatums, had broken the face of the last man who’d threatened her.
“Or we’re going to make a scene, that’s what,” he hissed. Locking a smile on his face, he tilted his head. “I’m sorry I upset you. Why don’t we get in the car, and you can tell me what I can do to make it right?”
Relaxing a little and realizing through the haze of the slight buzz as she began to sober completely that this would only serve to add fuel to the fire for anyone looking to vet the claims against her, Reesa nodded. She let Marc walk her to the car, though she was stiff and unyielding under his touch. She slid over to make room for him, and as the door closed, she asked hesitantly, “Did you mean that, or were you just trying to shut me up?”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and he looked tired. “Both.”
“Are you kidding me?” The words came out clipped.
This time, anger slid over Marc’s face like a mask. “No, I’m not kidding, Reesa. You have to understand something. I will never betray you or do anything that makes you look like a pushover, just like I won’t let anyone call you abusive. But you’re going to have to relax and let go of the green monster. I have to put on an act sometimes to keep the hopes alive so I don’t lose a million fans. It doesn’t mean anything, and I don’t even remember names and faces because when I think about sexy, intriguing women, your face is the only one I can see.”
“You’re such a smooth talker,” she spit back at him. “It’s not going to work, Marc. I told you when I got into this relationship with you I was completely committed. I expect the same from you, and you assured me I’d have it. I don’t have a problem with you signing autographs and shaking hands, but those girls were practically throwing themselves at you, and you all but asked them to do it with the way you handled the situation. I don’t know if it’s better or worse that you did it right in front of my eyes.”
“And do you think I would have done that if I felt like it was wrong?” he challenged, raising his own voice. It startled Reesa a bit, since they’d never truly fought. She didn’t know what Marc was capable of, and she didn’t like the tone of his voice. It reminded her too much of the aggression in her past.
“Whatever, Marc. I want to go home. To my apartment.” She needed to get away from him and spend some time alone.
“The hell you say!” he bellowed. “There’s not even a bed there.”
“There’s a couch.”
“And I want you in my bed tonight!” he insisted.
“Fat chance of that. You can sleep with the image of your cute little fans to keep you company,” she seethed. “I have no problem with your career, Marc. You’re a stellar player, and you deserve your accolades. But I won’t tolerate the flirting. And you won’t control me and tell me where I can and can’t sleep.”
“Fine,” he spit back at her. “Sleep where you want. I’m done fighting. Maybe tomorrow, you’ll regain your reasoning ability.” He turned to stare out the window, practically dismissing her, and she gathered up her rage, bottling it for the explosion that would happen when they were alone if he tried to talk to her at all. She really did wish he would just take her back to her apartment and leave her alone, but she could see from the direction the car headed that wasn’t happening.
Lost in her own anguished thoughts, Reesa slipped into a half-conscious state and startled a bit when the car stopped in front of Marc's building. He reached to assist her out of the car, but she pulled back, glaring at him. He backed off, and she struggled to her feet, wobbling slightly as she stood. She hadn't drank much, but she was exhausted, and the only things keeping her eyes open were anger and sheer force of will.
Marc remained silent and distant as they took the elevator up, and he opened the door without a word. It should have been a relief, but for some reason, it bothered Reesa. Was she spoiling for a fight? Or had the fight gone out of her? She didn’t know and really didn’t care. She just needed her space to lick her wounds right now. She’d figure everything else out tomorrow, after she’d gotten some rest.
She flopped down on the couch, kicking off her shoes, and she heard Marc sigh somewhere nearby as she closed her eyes. “Reesa, come to bed.”
It wasn’t a plea, and it wasn’t a command. It was more an exasperated statement. “Why? So you can ply away my anger with your charm and sexual prowess?” The words were bitter, but she didn’t have the strength to back them, so they sounded pathetic.
“So I can hold you and love you and remind you that no one else matters.” He sighed again, a long release of breath so heavy it shifted the air in the room. “I’m sorry, Reesa. I didn’t know something I consider so harmless would upset you so much. I never meant to hurt you, and I’ll try to reel it in a little from now on, okay?”
Reesa wanted to hold onto her anger, but his sincerity made her heart swell and shattered her resolve. Slowly, she sat up and gazed at him from under her lashes, her eyelids too heavy to lift. “And I’ll try to be a little more understanding. I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have turned on you like that in public. It looked bad, didn’t it?”
He gave her a sheepish grin. “It might have, if anyone could have gotten a clear shot of it. But I don’t think we have to worry about anything.” He sat next to her, their sides touching from shoulder to knee, and he nudged her slightly. “You make me a better person, Reesa. I didn’t think about anyone but me before. With you, I’m more conscious of what others need. Mostly you, but also how my actions affect other people. Thank you.”
She offered Marc a tired smile. “I don’t know how that’s possible, since I can be really cold and heartless. But I’m learning to let go and trust again. I shouldn’t make others suffer because of trauma inflected by someone else, a long time ago. You’re helping me, too.”
“Then, it’s mutually beneficial,” he teased. “So, can we mutually decide to go to bed now? I’m tired, and I want to fall asleep with you in my arms.”
“I suppose we could arrange that.” This time, when he reached for her, she didn’t protest.
Chapter 10
As she stood and stretched, Reesa checked the clock and realized she’d lost track of time. She had gotten so involved in the new design of an office space for a very affluent client she hadn’t even stopped for lunch, simply munching on some chips at her desk. Now, it was after six, and Marc was due home from a week at training late tonight. She wanted to have a nice dinner waiting, and she intended to shower and put on some nice lingerie for his arrival.
Saving her work, she shut down the computer, gathered her things, and turned off the light in her office, locking it behind her. She took the elevator down and stepped outside, the air a bit frigid, and she shivered, wishing she’d brought a coat rather than a thin cardigan. She pulled it tight around her had ducked her head against the wind, heading for the train station.
She’d taken maybe three steps when a figure stepped in front of her and stopped. She looked up to find the figure shoving a microphone in her face. “Miss Brighton, do you have a statement regarding the allegations?” the woman asked, a cameraman standing behind her shoulder, the lens trained on Reesa.
“My past is my past, and I’ve made enough statements about it and the truth of the matter,” she said, holding back her anger. She wasn’t in the mood to dredge all this up right now.
“Not against you, Miss Brighton. I'm referring to the charges that are being filed against your fiancé, Marcus Winters," the reporter told her, eyes glowing at the discovery Reesa had no clue what she meant.
"Excuse me?" Reesa had a sinking feeling, her stomach twisting up in knots instantly.
"Miss Brighton, your fiancé is being accused of physical and sexual assault on a woman named Monique Carson over the weekend. When did you last speak with Winters?"
"I talked to him this morning. And we're not engaged," Reesa corrected irritably. The reporter had to be mistaken. "And I think you have your facts wrong."
"Really? Did Winters tell you what
happened? Or did he conveniently forget to mention it? Did he sound distressed at all? Do you know where he was last night?" The rapid-fire questions made Reesa's head spin, and she just stared at this horrible woman for a moment. "Any comment at all?" she prompted impatiently.
Last night, Marc had called to tell her the team planned to go out to a local pub and have a few drinks and blow off some steam. She hadn't minded. She trusted him to be a responsible adult. Had she been fooled the whole time? "No comment," she finally managed, her voice strained as she tried to swallow back the bile rising in her throat. She shouldered past the woman, but like a true reporter, she followed doggedly at Reesa's heels.
"Miss Brighton, Monique Carson claims she's seen your...boyfriend several times, but last night, he got drunk and forced her to have sex. When she fought, he beat her. These are serious allegations, and with your history, you have to have an opinion."
That didn't sound like Marc at all. Then again, she didn't know how he acted when he got drunk. They'd never drank that much together. And she knew the policy a lot of the guys had – what happens on the road, stays on the road. If Marc bought into the same philosophy, he likely wouldn't have told her. It wasn't the sort of information you shared with a significant other. And how well did she really know him?
Suddenly, Reesa felt like she would lose what little contents she had in her stomach. Despite the cold air around her, she felt buried in burning coals, her body singed with heat. "No comment!" She yelled over her shoulder, picking up her pace. If the reporter kept up much longer, she would have to jump in a cab and get out of here.