The Billionaire Bull

by Romi Hart

  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 t
o 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.

  She needed to get home, try to figure out what was going on. She couldn't call Marc; he'd be boarded on the plane by now. But if she didn't talk to him now, what would she say to him face to face? She needed to think rationally, consider the possibilities, but she couldn't even know if the reporter had told the truth or not. For all she knew, the story was a ploy to start rumors.

  "You can't run from this, Miss Brighton!" the reporter called out, winded and farther away now. "It's going to be big news. It might help if you had something to say now."

  "You want me to say something? Fuck off!" Reesa cried as she hailed a taxi. The driver pulled over and she slammed into the car before the woman could catch up. "Hell's Kitchen," she told him. It wasn't the right direction for home, but it would take her to Kylie's. She doubted the harassing lady would move fast enough to follow, and she could bet no one had Kylie's address. Let the bitch come for her at Marc's or her own apartment. They could bang on the door till the neighbor's complained. She wouldn't be there to answer.

  Unfortunately, the woman had a point. If all of this was real, Reesa couldn't run from it. She would have to face it sooner or later. First, though, she had to decide what she believed. Her heart told her Marc wasn't capable of something so heinous, especially since he'd vowed never to hurt her. Cheating would tear her apart, and this was worse than cheating.

  But her heart had been wrong before. Ethan had her just as fooled, and she hadn't given anyone a chance to do the same since. Until Marc. How could she let herself risk something like this? Maybe he'd been playing her all along, having affairs on the road every chance he got. Maybe, when they talked on the phone, he had a woman sleeping beside him.

  She started imagining wild frat style parties, with Marc screwing random women against the wall in the hallway, music thumping so loud no one could hear the girls' cries as they came with him. It suited the image the media painted of him much better than the persona he'd presented to her. Reesa knew they could twist things terribly; they'd obviously done it with her story. But Reesa also knew there was usually an element of truth to the stories, something that prompted the sensationally embellished tales. And more often than not, people didn't deserve the benefit of the doubt.

  By the time she reached Kylie's apartment, Reesa had worked herself into a frenzy. She pulled out her phone to call and make sure her friend was home, noting that she'd missed several calls from Kylie. Her heart sank, the repeated calls confirming the truth of the allegations. Her best friend must have seen the story on the news and called, concerned.

  Tossing some cash at the driver, Reesa abandoned the phone call and bounded up three flights of stairs, slamming her fist against Kylie's door over and over until her friend opened it. She practically fell into her best friend's arms, the tears bursting forth immediately as she let the weight of the situation really settle in.

  "I don't believe a word of it," Kylie whispered soothingly, rubbing a hand over her back. "And I'm sure Jordan will confirm it."

  Reesa shook her head, sniffling. "Jordan would say anything to keep Marc out of trouble. And honestly, I don't even know the whole story. I just heard basic accusations from a damn reporter who wanted a statement. But people don't point that sort of finger lightly. What am I going to do, Kylie?"

  Kylie took hold of her shoulders and held her away, giving her the most solemn expression Reesa had ever seen on her face. "Do you love him?"

  "More than anything." Her heart ached, and she felt the world around her shattering like a mirror that had reflected a dream rather than reality.

  "Then, you listen to what he has to say and make up your mind. You know him, Reesa. You can't make snap judgments based on a stupid woman who probably wants to get revenge on all men for some wrong she suffered at someone else's hand. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation, and Marc was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

  "But why? Why would he be in a position where someone could even make such a claim?" She didn't want to think about the circumstances.

  "We'll have to wait and see." With an arm around her waist, Kylie guided her into the living room and sat her down on the sofa. "I can't get Jordan on the phone, so they're probably in the air right now. All we can do is wait. I'm going to get some ice cream, and we're going to have a pity party for a little while, eating our woes that you're in this predicament for whatever reason. I'll tell you what I know. Then, we're going to watch something funny to get our minds off it till we can get some answers."

  Dejectedly, Reesa nodded. Chocolate ice cream did make her feel better, and Kylie had a whole pint, just for her. She listened while Kylie ran through what details there were. According to the news, Monique Carson had been at a local bar where the team was hanging out last night. She'd been drinking with Marc, and things had gotten heated. They'd been making out, and when he tried to take it further, she'd turned him down. He'd gotten violent, beating her and sexually assaulting her. Supposedly, she'd gone straight to the police station to file charges, and the only reason the police hadn't arrested Marc was because they didn't have DNA evidence yet.

  It didn't sound like the Marc she knew, but Reesa couldn't let it slide. She had to keep her guard up now, not letting her emotions control her. "I'll listen to what he has to say," she said cautiously, feeling her world crumbling around her. "But I have a terrible feeling about this."

&n
bsp; Kylie placed a comforting hand on her knee. "As much as you don't want your judgment clouded by your feelings for Marc, you can't let the fear Ethan beat into you make your decisions, either. You need to wipe the slate clean so you can draw reasonable conclusions."

  "What would you think?" She asked, tears rolling down her cheeks again.

  "Honestly? I'd trust my heart. I would look into his eyes when he talked to me and trust what I saw there." She offered an encouraging smile.

  But Reesa felt far from reassured. Her heart had gotten her into trouble before. It was the last part of her body she wanted to trust.

  Chapter 11

  She'd expected her phone to ring as soon as Marc hit the airport, or at least after he'd tried to find her at home and her apartment. But Reesa had yet to hear from him, and she'd verified that his plane landed nearly two hours earlier. Would he really avoid her like a coward?

  A knock at the door had her even less hopeful. Likely, that would be Jordan, coming to see Kylie, and it would mean she needed to leave before she felt like an intruder. She stood to gather her things, but Kylie told her to sit down. "I don't want to be a fifth wheel."

  "You won't," Kylie told her. "That's Marc at the door."

  Reesa's jaw dropped. "How..." She couldn't even finish the question.

  "I texted Jordan and told him that Marc needed to get his ass over here as quickly as possible because he had some explaining to do." Reesa started to protest, but Kylie shook her head. "This is neutral ground, and Jordan and I will go down to the 24-hour diner and have some coffee. If you need us, we're a phone call away, and we can be here in two minutes. Good luck."

  Before Reesa could respond, Kylie flung the door open. Marc stood there, looking haggard. He leaned against the door frame, hulking in it, his eyes sunken in and ringed with black. His face was puffy and red, and his shoulders slumped heavily, as if he carried a ten-ton brick on his back. Jordan hung behind, almost timid, like a shadow.