by Lori Foster
She lifted her chin and continued. “Obviously you don’t know him very well. Yes, he can be abrasive. No one would deny that. But he’s also very giving.”
“Gillian.”
Sighing, she stood up and faced him. “What’s the matter, Drew? Are you afraid I’ll damage your bad-boy reputation? Don’t you think it’s time to grow up a little and admit that you care about others?”
He jutted his chin forward. “Who and what I care about is nobody’s business.”
“It’s my business,” Gillian insisted.
“Well, yeah.” He threw up his arms. “You’re on the list of people I care most about.”
Gillian mentally reeled. She could feel the heat of Fran’s and Loren’s stares. “I meant,” she said around the shock, “that it’s my business because I’m representing you.”
He did that infuriating shrug thing again. “However you want to look at it, honey.”
Fran waved a finger between them. “Are you two . . . ?”
“An item?” Drew snatched up Gillian’s hand. “Yeah, we sure are.”
“Engaged?” Fran specified. “Are you that serious?”
Gillian couldn’t breathe. This was not the turn she’d expected. “Don’t be—”
Drew squeezed her hand to silence her. “You want to go with us to pick out rings, Frannie?”
Fran put her hand to her chin as she pondered them both. “I see.”
Gillian jerked her hand free. How dare he play these types of games? This was not the time, and she was not the woman, for such foolishness.
Before she could say a single word, Drew pulled her up to her tiptoes and kissed her. Despite their mute audience, he was quite . . . thorough.
When he let her go, Gillian barely restrained the urge to smack him good. Instead, she straightened her dress with several hard yanks that left no doubt as to her mood.
Drew said, “You are so hot when you’re furious.”
Gillian opened her mouth to lambaste him.
Fran spoke before she could, saying to Loren, “Let’s talk a moment while these two . . . settle their disagreement.”
Brother and sister left the room. The second the door closed behind them, Gillian turned on Drew.
“How dare you treat me like that, especially in front of them?” Her whole body trembled with her outrage and humiliation. “I am not one of your starstruck bimbos who will tolerate your ridiculous antics. I am a professional businesswoman. I am a—”
“Lady, through and through,” Drew agreed. “A sexy lady.” He whistled low to emphasize that. “And so damn smart and cunning.”
“Cunning?” That sounded rather insulting.
Drew tapped his temple. “Damn right. You know just what to say and when to twist people around your little finger. I love it.”
Gillian couldn’t tell if he spoke with sincerity or sarcasm, and at the moment, she didn’t care. Only by extreme effort did she keep her voice moderate. “What you just did is reprehensible. I told you that if you didn’t behave, I’d walk away, do you remember that?”
He nodded, but said, “I love the way you pelted them with my good deeds. I’m sure you knew how I’d react to that, right? And granted, at first I was seeing three shades of red. But I think it struck the right blow, so I’m willing to let you slide on it.”
Though his repeated use of the L word threw her, she still wanted to make a point. “You have no reason to be so closemouthed about your generosity to others.”
“You have no reason to be closemouthed about our relationship.” He touched her cheek. “But I figure we all have our reasons, right?”
Disbelief flattened her. “So what you did—that was payback?”
“Nope. I spoke the truth, and in case you didn’t notice, Frannie is all but salivating over the idea of me being a domesticated man. It gives her the out she needs to soften her stance against me, and it reassures her that someone is in control—namely you. And to her way of thinking, much better you than me, right?”
Good God, she couldn’t believe the way his analytical mind worked. “Let me make certain I understand you on this. You actually want them to think that we’re engaged?”
He stepped closer, crowding her, dissolving her anger with the warmth of his intent. “I want them to understand that you, Gillian Noode, have considerable influence over me. It’s true, you know. I really do care what you think.”
Gillian put a hand to her forehead, trying to sort out things. “You’re insane, Drew.”
“Actually,” he whispered, sounding far too serious, “I’m—”
Fran and Loren stepped back into the room, interrupting whatever Drew might have said.
On edge, almost desperate to have him finish that thought, Gillian stared at him.
But Drew just winked.
Folding her hands together, Fran addressed Gillian. “I take it you have a game plan to highlight Drew’s . . . heretofore unknown finer qualities?”
“Oh.” Drawn back to the here and now, she withdrew papers from her briefcase. “Yes, I do.” She handed the detailed file over to Fran and a duplicate file to Loren. “I’m sure you’ll agree that, once we make certain facts wider known, we’ll be able to counter most misgivings.”
Her smile tight, Fran said, “I hope so.”
Gillian took that as agreement. “I can start implementing everything in a press conference tonight.”
Fran waved that away. “Let’s give it another twenty-four hours.”
Drew took offense at that. “Come on, Frannie, you know you’re not going to fire me.”
Shooting him a dirty look over the nickname, Fran reluctantly agreed. “No, I’m not. But right now, everyone is enthralled over that business with the new fighter, Brett Bullman.”
Confused, Gillian looked at Drew and saw his escalating apprehension and anger.
He looked from Fran to Loren and back again. “What are you talking about?”
As Fran moved to a chair and continued to peruse the file, she said to Loren, “Could you pull that up on my computer so they can see for themselves, please? Thank you.”
His expression bemused, Loren went to her desk. Multimillionaire that he was, his sister was likely the only person who could issue him instructions. From what Gillian knew, even Loren’s current wife—number three—didn’t try to boss him around.
Loren typed in an address, pressed a button, and a giant monitor on the wall switched on.
Gillian’s heart began to race as she read the detailed, malicious release. This was going to be trouble for Drew, she knew. Would Brett blame him?
“I wouldn’t have done this,” he said low, his rage palpable. “I would have made it about accomplishments and overcoming the shit life throws at you, not . . . not this insulting garbage.”
Knowing how this would bother him, Gillian moved closer to Drew and touched his arm. “How did Ms. Christian find out about Brett’s background?”
“I have no fucking idea, but that nutcase seems to know way too damn much.” Drew shook his head. “And this time she’s gone too far.”
“Drew . . .” His lethal mood worried Gillian. She didn’t want to see him take monumental strides backward when they were just getting back on track again.
“No fucking way am I losing Brett as a fighter.” Dismissing everyone in the room, Drew pulled out his cell and started punching in numbers as he stalked out of the room.
Gillian had not a single doubt that he was calling Brett, and somehow he’d make it all work out.
With the perfect illustration to drive home her point, she turned to Loren and Fran. “There, do you see?” Neither of them did, apparently, but she had no problem explaining. “More than anything else, Drew cares about the fighters. That’s a commodity you won’t find in any other man. And that’s why he’s so invaluable to you.”
Loren sat back in his seat with a grin. “Oh, I don’t know about that, Ms. Noode. I think Drew has found someone that interests him even more than the SBC as
a whole.”
Fran glanced up from the papers to nod. “Settling down will accomplish the same thing—a grand transformation for Drew. It’s about time. And lucky for us, he’s found a wonderful woman like you. We couldn’t be more pleased.”
So now she was wonderful? Gillian fought the urge to roll her eyes. Weren’t these the same people who had fired her just this morning? Not that their misguided assumptions mattered. Soon enough, Drew would set them straight.
For now, she wanted to make sure they understood one very important thing. “My God, you’re both still missing the big picture. Drew doesn’t need to transform. As he is, faults and all, he’s one of the most brilliant businessmen you’ll ever meet, and he’s an outright wonderful human being, too.”
Disinterested in that assessment, Fran went back to reading, but Loren looked behind her. He grinned.
Oh, crap. With dread, Gillian turned and found Drew standing half inside the door, his gaze speculative.
Feeling her face go red, Gillian asked, “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry to do this to you, but we’re heading straight to the airport. I need to talk to Brett, and he’s not answering, so I’ll have to track him down.”
Gillian said a quick farewell to Loren and Fran and rejoined Drew. How he kept up such a phenomenal pace, she didn’t know, but it was his life, and . . . she wouldn’t mind sharing it with him.
Maybe, once everything settled back to the normal chaos, she’d make him see just how perfect they could be together—for real, instead of simply as an illusion.
CHAPTER 17
WHEN Audrey returned to her apartment that night, her only thought was to see Brett again. In such a short time she’d fallen for him. Hard.
She had to let Brett know that she’d be delayed by the meeting with the other WAVS members tonight. It was important that she speak with everyone, to share her differing perspective on the SBC. But when she called Brett, he didn’t answer, so she left a message.
Disappointed, she took a quick shower and redressed in jeans and a comfy, long-sleeved T-shirt. She was putting on her shoes when her cell phone rang.
Hoping it was Brett, she snatched up the phone and said a breathless, “Hello?”
Millie asked, “Have you gone to any of the MMA sites to check out my story?”
Actually, with Brett on her brain, Audrey hadn’t even thought to look at the piece. She covered by saying, “I was getting ready to pull it up right now.”
“Great.” Millie snickered. “Thanks to you, I was able to . . . enhance it.”
As her stomach bottomed out, Audrey squeezed the cell phone. “You didn’t trash the publicist, did you?”
“Audrey!” Millie tsked in mock censure. “You asked me not to, so of course I didn’t.”
She relaxed, but not much. “Thank you, Millie. It was the right thing to do.”
“Yeah, so you said. You can explain why tonight when we all meet. But in the meantime, let me know what you think about the piece after you’ve read it, okay?” Laughing, Millie hung up without saying good-bye.
Reminded of the dread she’d felt earlier, Audrey rushed over to her desk and started her laptop. Millie had been acting so peculiar lately, she didn’t know what to expect. She also didn’t know which MMA sites carried her blog, so she did a quick search using Millie’s name.
With shock, Audrey watched the volume of sites appear. Millie had gotten a lot of exposure on this one.
Audrey sank into a chair and, filled with apprehension, clicked on one of the best-known MMA boards.
The article was right there at the top of the page, generating a ton of hits and some furious feedback from hard-core MMA fans.
Feeling sicker by the second, Audrey began reading.
SBC SCOOP, from Millie Christian of WAVS: Fighter escapes dregs of society, to do . . . what? Thanks to a tip from Audrey Porter, the MMA world can switch its focus from the disreputable performance of SBC president Drew Black to Brett Bullman, a fighter who has seen it all. After suffering emotional and physical abuse from his father, and drug addiction and prison for his mother, you’d think someone with that background would seek a better life to set himself apart from the violence and drug (steroid) use. But not Brett Bullman. He’s making a life for himself as a brutal, bloodthirsty fighter in the SBC. One has to wonder if his drive to improve his deadly skills is inspired by his need to confront his father once and for all, or to defend his mother when she gets out of prison and goes back on the streets, selling herself for drugs.
Is Brett Bullman the caliber of man the SBC seeks? Are societal rejects, the abused and the downtrodden, perfect pupils to brainwash into a “sport” of viciousness? It would seem so.
It didn’t take much digging to uncover details of Bullman’s sordid life, including homelessness, despair, and then an obvious need to get even.
Even though she was sitting, Audrey’s knees felt weak. As the article and all the repercussions from it sank in, her eyes burned with regret and shame.
She’d done this to Brett; throughout the article, Millie repeatedly gave her credit for the inspiration in the story. Why would Millie do such a thing to her? She had to know how Brett would react to this.
And Brett . . . oh, God. He’d be so hurt, and so angry. Rightfully so. The last thing he wanted was his life laid bare for everyone to analyze.
The majority of the responses to the news were outraged on Brett’s behalf. But they were also filled with pity. She couldn’t even imagine how a strong, independent man like Brett would feel about that.
He’d trusted her, and she’d inadvertently given Millie the initiative to go digging into his past. Millie had switched her cannon from the publicist to Brett with devastating and destructive effect.
She wouldn’t call Millie back. No, Audrey would see her tonight at the meeting, and then she’d make her feelings known. Right now, she just needed to talk to Brett, to explain. But her call again went straight to voice mail, and her anxiety doubled. Was he ignoring her calls?
The idea of that tortured Audrey until she couldn’t stand it anymore. The very least she owed Brett was a sincere apology. If he never wanted to see her again, she couldn’t blame him. But she couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t explain to him and tell him how sorry she felt for all of it.
She glanced at her watch and decided to make a quick stop at the meeting first to get it out of the way. Her reign within WAVS was coming to an end. She couldn’t be a part of a group that sought maliciousness over effectiveness, that used cruelty toward others for recognition.
It didn’t take her long to drive to the meeting location. With early evening descending, the temperature dropped and a chilly breeze drifted in. Audrey pulled on her hoodie and, determined to enact some change, entered the room where the others had already gathered.
An expectant silence descended the second she stepped through the open doorway.
At the front of the room, Millie called out to her, “Perfect timing, Audrey. We were just discussing you.”
Discussing her? Spine going stiff and straight, Audrey surveyed the once friendly faces of the women she’d considered friends. They looked at her with disapproval, distrust, and animosity.
Rather than be intimidated, Audrey went on the offensive. “What’s going on here, Millie?”
Millie held out her arms to encompass the whole room. “We’ve been talking, and we’ve decided that you have a clear conflict of interest.” She started toward Audrey.
“After all, you insisted that I not break the story on that slutty publicist, even though we all know it would have had a great impact for our cause.”
“That’s nonsense and you know it! How would trashing Gillian Noode have furthered our objectives? She’s not part of the SBC, and she’s not a fighter.”
“No,” Millie agreed. “But Brett Bullman is, right? And still, here you are, all set to defend him, too.”
Audrey clenched her fists. “I trusted you.”
>
Millie got so close that she bumped into Audrey. “And we all trusted you. But now that you’re screwing a fighter, you’ve turned your back on us, and our goals!”
Taking a step away to put some space between herself and Millie, Audrey scanned the faces of the other women. A few of them now looked sad for her, but most were nodding in agreement, ready to encourage Millie in her nastiness and aggressive posturing. Never had Audrey encouraged this type of behavior.
Why hadn’t she seen the ugliness of it all before now?
Keeping her voice strong, Audrey addressed them all. “We were never about ruining lives. Our goal was to make others understand the possible hazards to this type of sport. That’s all. Targeting individuals is wrong.”
“Even Drew Black?” Millie sneered.
“Even Drew has the right to honest, fair, and professional treatment.”
Millie almost snapped. She jerked forward to loom over Audrey, her face red, her eyes burning. “After what he did to me?” she screeched. “After how he maligned me for all the world to see?”
Undaunted, Audrey replied, “Mr. Black was unfairly harsh, but this can’t be about getting even with him at all costs. Don’t you see that?”
She tried to talk to the others, but Millie wouldn’t let her. Each time she moved, Millie moved with her, belligerently staying in her face, challenging her with her attitude.
“You’ve chosen sides, Audrey. Accept the consequences.”
“What consequences?”
“You’re out. For good. No one wants a traitor here.”
Audrey sighed, sad for her friend, but done with the group all the same. “Can’t you see that you’re stooping to the very behavior you object to?”
Snatching up Audrey’s arm in a vicious grip, Millie jerked her toward the door. “You don’t know anything. Now get out! We don’t want you here anymore.”
Stunned by Millie’s maliciousness, Audrey glanced over her shoulder and saw varying degrees of shock on every other face. Yet they all just watched. No one said a word in Audrey’s defense.
“Forget it,” Millie said. “The meeting’s over anyway.” She put Audrey outside the door with a vicious shove that nearly knocked her to the ground.