Torrid Love: Friends to Lovers Romance (Bad Boy Studs Book 1)

by Scarlett Avery

  I have to fight for my life.

  I try to run again, but I don’t get very far. This time he grabs hold of my black tank top and the strap of my bra, pulling against both with force. My top rips exposing my breasts and my bra goes flying across the room.

  “Jesus! Look at those juicy tits! They’re so much bigger than before. Did you get a boob job?”

  His eyes flash something evil as I try to cover myself.

  “Don’t be shy, Dominika.”

  I’m nearly hysterical, but coax myself to calm down.

  Think.

  Focus.

  Breathe.

  I use this moment to my advantage and kick him in the shin.

  “Fucking bitch! I was going to be nice, but now I’m going to fucking rip your ass in half,” he grunts, coming at me.

  He’s going to rape me, and then kill me.

  God, please don’t let this happen.

  Suddenly, something inside me shifts.

  I can’t die.

  I won’t die.

  I can’t die.

  I won’t die.

  I can’t die.

  I won’t die.

  I didn’t have the strength or courage to fight him off eight years ago, but this time, I’m not going down without a fight.

  From the corner of my eye, I notice a tripod leaning against the wall. Gideon comes after me. I duck down, run and grab the tripod. It’s this ridiculously heavy thing Joel offered me as part of his package to sweeten his offer. I use all the rage and pain I’ve buried for the past eight years and lunge at Gideon, swinging as hard as I can.

  I hit him right on the chin.

  The blow is so hard, it makes his head snap to the side.

  Blood splatters all over the place.

  Yes!

  “Fuck!” Gideon yells.

  I swing again and this time, I hit him in the chest.

  He stumbles back before landing on his ass.

  Run, Dom! Run!

  My entire body trembles from the anxiety that rushes through my veins, the adrenaline fueling my legs.

  “Help! Somebody help me!” I yell at the top of my lungs.

  CHAPTER 31

  Roderick

  I called Dom a few times on my way to her studio, but she didn’t pick up. It doesn’t matter because I’m not too far.

  She gets so lost in her work.

  As I zoom down LA’s streets, I flash back to the shocking headlines Holt texted us. I still can’t believe the accusations. The allegations of sexual misconduct seem so out of character. Gideon a rapist? No way.

  I turn into the parking lot to my studio and slowly drive the short distance to Dom’s. I pride myself for having insisted she rig the area with cameras. This is a fairly isolated part of LA at night since the buildings surrounding us are all old warehouses converted into offices and studios. It’s a different story during the day, but most everyone is home or out partying this late on a Friday night. You can never be too safe.

  As I approach her studio, I’m baffled by what I see. A large window is completely smashed in by a car.

  “Whoa.”

  Since the driver’s door to the vehicle is still open, I assume whoever caused this accident is inside the building.

  I hope no one is hurt.

  I park diagonally, get out of my car and hurry to Dom’s studio. I don’t bother closing my own door. I take in the scene, baffled, my eyes darting around the space, searching for answers.

  Holy shit. There’s glass everywhere.

  “Dom?” I shout, rushing inside to make sure she’s okay.

  “Help! Somebody help me!” Dom screams.

  She emerges from the kitchen. Her top is ripped and her breasts are exposed.

  What the hell?

  Everything happens so fast, I don’t have time to process any of it.

  “Rod! Help me! Help me!”

  Her scream takes ten years off my life.

  Jesus.

  She comes crashing into me. I catch her.

  I grip my hands around her shoulders and practically shake the hell out of her, demanding an explanation, “Dom, what’s going on?”

  “Help me! Please, help me!” she yells louder. “Don’t let him hurt me again.”

  She’s crying so hard, I barely recognize her beautiful face.

  “Who is in there?”

  Instead of answering, she wriggles out of my grasp and runs to hide behind me. I feel her shaking against my back. Instinctively, I adopt a fighter’s stance, ready to protect her from whoever she’s running from. This is one time I regret not being a gun owner.

  “Come back here, you filthy whore!” a familiar voice yells. I look up and stare into Gideon’s eyes. His jaw is bloodied.

  Whoa.

  “What the fuck is going on here?” I demand.

  “Hey Rod,” he attempts to smile, but he grimaces instead. I assume from the pain.

  He takes a step forward.

  “Don’t come any closer,” I say lifting both hands in front of me.

  “Rod, it’s me. I’m your friend. Your mentor. You can’t turn your back on me.”

  “Gideon, I don’t know what’s going on, but you better not take another step.”

  “Rod—”

  “The window is nothing more than dust, Dom’s top is ripped, she’s exposed and she’s crying uncontrollably. On the flip side, your face is covered in blood and there are some pretty scary things written about you on the Internet.”

  “What things?” he asks, indignant.

  “There are some big accusations, Gideon.”

  “Lies!” Something dangerous—demonic, even—flashes in his eyes.

  “Okay. Just calm down.”

  “I can’t believe you’d believe those sluts who are out to get me.”

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore, Gideon.”

  He takes a step forward despite my warning.

  “I said don’t come any closer,” I growl.

  “This is how you repay me after everything I’ve done for you, Rod?” My nostrils flare in and out in my attempt to regulate the violent pounding of my heart. “You’d be a broke son of a bitch, with nothing more than a high school diploma to wipe your ass with, working a shitty warehouse job, living in a crappy part of LA, driving a piece of junk. I made you, Rod. Without me you’d be a loser. I mean, look at your parents.” Asshole. “I made you who you are, but you choose to believe women trying to take me down?” So he’s aware of the accusations. “You can’t trust women, Rod. They’re bitches and whores.” He tilts his head to the side, his eyes shifting past me.

  Dom clings even harder to me.

  “They’re backstabbers. They manipulate you and then cry wolf. Your bitch is no different.”

  I don’t even know who this guy is anymore.

  He takes another step.

  “Stay where you are,” I warn.

  “You’d really hurt me, Rod? I thought the other day was all talk.”

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect Dom.”

  “You’re such a fool. You believe them over me. Thanks, bro,” he smirks. “Whores like yours are trying to ruin my life by running their slutty mouths to reporters. I’m here to teach yours a lesson.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask carefully.

  “She thinks I don’t know, but I figured it out. She’s plotting to bring me down by spewing lies about me—just like that shit on the Internet you’re talking about.”

  “You’re not making any sense, Gideon.”

  “She’s a lying bitch!”

  “What is she lying about?” I ask cautiously.

  “She’s blowing everything out of proportion,” he says.

  “You raped me, you lowlife!” Dom shouts.

  Jesus Christ. Please, God, tell me I misheard her.

  “He raped me, Rod. He raped me.”

  Her words hit me with the impact of a speeding train.

  “Wh—wh—what?” I stutter.

&nb
sp; It’s a struggle for me to take in air and breathe.

  “Lying bitch!” he repeats.

  “Gideon, did you touch her?” is all I manage. I can’t say the word. Not in relation to the woman I love.

  Gideon’s lips curl up in a condescending sneer. “It wasn’t my fault, bro. She came on to me. She begged me to fuck her. She said she was tired of waiting around for you to do the honors.”

  “Stop twisting things around. You raped me!” Dom shouts again.

  Reality descends like a tone of bricks.

  “He hurt you?” I ask Dom, my gaze remains steady on my former mentor.

  “For fuck’s sake, Rod. You’re—”

  “He did!” she yells and starts crying again. “I was only seventeen and a virgin, but you didn’t care, Gideon. You wanted to take something from Rod. You kept repeating it over and over again. You said it again tonight. You’ve always wanted to be Rod! You’re just a worthless piece of shit who preys on young girls.”

  My brain is desperately trying to make sense of Dom’s accusation.

  The stuff on the Internet is true?

  “I trusted you! Rod trusted you!” Dom screams. “You hurt me then you threatened to ruin Rod’s career if I said anything to anyone.”

  “Get over yourself, slut. You wanted my dick, begged for—”

  Gideon doesn’t finish his sentence.

  I charge towards him and slam my fist into his jaw with such force teeth go flying out of his mouth. He falls back like a felled tree, his head landing with a crack into the broken glass.

  He’s out cold.

  Not good enough.

  I dive to the floor. “Goddamn, motherfucker,” I growl, lifting my arm over my head.

  “Rod! Stop! Please don’t,” Dom pleads.

  I hesitate for a long moment, debating, with my fist still ready to beat Gideon into the next life.

  I don’t answer. I can’t even speak. Rage boils inside me like lava.

  “He isn’t worth it,” Dom says softly. “You can’t go to prison on his account. I love you too much, Rod. Don’t break my heart. Please, don’t do this,” she pleads.

  It takes every ounce of willpower I possess to hold back.

  I turn to face her. I’m breathing so hard, I fear I might have a heart attack.

  Dom looks at Gideon’s lifeless body, her eyes widen in panic. “Oh my God is he already dead?”

  I can’t tell.

  Shit.

  Adrenaline pummels my temples like a jackhammer on a construction site.

  I place two fingers against his neck to check his pulse.

  The motherfucker is alive.

  “He isn’t,” I tell her.

  “Thank God,” she says in a whisper.

  “Did he…? Tonight…?” My words fade off. I can only wave my finger at her ripped top.

  She looks down then back up. She shakes her head. “No. I was trying to get away from him.

  “Did he really…? You were seventeen…?” I still can’t say it.

  “I’m so sorry,” Dom sobs, running to me.

  She throws herself at me and I catch her.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, baby.”

  “I should’ve told you.”

  Jesus Christ.

  He did hurt her.

  The agony of knowing I didn’t protect her when she needed me the most is enough to kill me.

  I look down at Gideon’s body and it’s hard to justify why I shouldn’t end his life right now.

  Piece of shit.

  “Shhh. It’s okay,” I say, getting up with her still cradled in my arms.

  “I’m sorry,” she repeats like a prayer in between hysterical fits of tears.

  I want nothing more than to take her pain away, but I can’t yet.

  “Give me a sec,” I say.

  I reach into my back pocket, fishing for my phone. It’s missing. I look around and notice it on the floor. It must have fallen out in the chaos.

  I grab it, smearing Gideon’s blood all over it.

  Goddammit.

  I dial the number and wait.

  “911, state your emergency.”

  CHAPTER 32

  Dominika

  It’s a little past six in the morning by the time we walk into Isobel and Rory’s Santa Monica home. We remain quiet as we follow Rod’s oldest brother inside the house. The weight of the tragedy silences us all.

  “Let me start breakfast,” Isobel says when we enter the kitchen. “I’m sure everyone is starved.”

  “Good idea,” Rory, says. “I’ll help.”

  “Let me get Dom into the shower first,” Rod says.

  “I’ll grab her some clean clothes,” Isobel says.

  “Rod, I’ll do the same for you,” Rory says.

  “We’ll leave them in the guest bedroom near the bathroom that only has a shower,” Isobel says.

  “Thanks,” Rod says.

  “Rod—” I’m about to tell him I’m okay, but the look on everyone’s face shuts me up.

  Rod called his brothers and Loki after he called the police. They arrived at the studio in record time and stayed all night with us. When Gideon came to, the police demanded answers, but he couldn’t speak. Between my blow and Rod’s, his jaw was broken. He could only point an accusatory finger at my boyfriend. Rod simply smirked back at him. Thank God, everything was caught on camera. Images don’t lie.

  Isobel consoled me while Rod talked to the police. I cried to the point where I had nothing left. It took a few hours before we were allowed to go to the hospital—there was so much to report. Paramedics had checked me out to make sure nothing was broken. I only had a few cuts and bruises. I was more terrified than anything else. Still, the police and Rod wanted me to get further medical attention. I insisted I was fine, but Rod refused to listen. He wasn’t able to ride in the ambulance with me to the hospital since he isn’t family. He rode with Roark. I rode with my surrogate parents—Rory and Isobel. The wait was excruciating, but at least I know there’s no internal damage. Rod showed up at the right time to save me. A few more minutes and Gideon would’ve gotten his filthy paws on me again.

  “Come on. Let’s go,” Rod says, extending his hand.

  He drags me up the stairs and down the hallway to the bathroom.

  “I can take a shower by myself,” I say when he opens the door.

  “I know,” he growls lightly. “I need one too,” he pauses. “And I need to hold you in my arms.” His voice is so smooth now. It’s lost its edge.

  I choke back tears.

  “Okay,” I nod.

  He strips me of my clothes. The paramedics gave me a blanket to cover my nakedness, but Isobel came with a top. As much as I want to burn the clothes staring at me from the floor, the police asked me to hold onto them—they might be part of the police investigation.

  I watch as Rod peels out of his clothes. He steps inside the shower and adjusts the water temperature. “Hop in,” he waves.

  I get in and he immediately wraps his strong arms around me.

  My body tenses.

  I’m certain he’s going to demand an explanation, but he doesn’t.

  He just holds me, kissing the back of my head.

  He brushes my wet hair away from my face. “Too hot?”

  “No. It’s perfect,” I say before closing my eyes.

  Rod always likes to take really hot showers. I usually complain, but not today. The scalding heat makes me feel like I’m cleansing my soul.

  It’s cathartic.

  It’s finally over.

  “He blindsided me,” Rod mutters.

  I nod.

  There’s nothing more to say.

  Gideon was always quick to tell Rod he would watch over me like his own daughter. We all bought the lie. He was a convincing shyster.

  “Let me wash you,” Rod says after a few long minutes of silence.

  “Okay.”

  Rod lathers my entire body with a shower gel he grabs from the wall niche. He vigor
ously scrubs every last part of me. The steam helps permeate the cleansing scent of lavender. He then moves onto my hair. Feeling his strong hands against my scalp is so soothing. He’s so good at this. Once he’s done, he quickly soaps his body and washes his hair. I just watch, mesmerized. He barely spends any time on himself, yet he took the time to pamper me.

  “Let’s get out,” he says, shutting off the water before stepping out of the shower. He grabs hold of a gray towel, wraps it around my shoulder and uses the end to gently dry off my face. The whole time we exchange furtive looks, never really locking eyes with each other. He grabs another towel and hands it to me. “For your hair,” he says.

  “Thanks.”

  He wraps another towel around his waist.

  “Let’s go,” he says.

  Before I know it, he picks me up in his arms.

  I have no desire to fight him on this. Instead, I drop my head against his muscular chest and close my eyes.

  “Will that work?” he asks when he steps into Isobel and Rory’s guest bedroom. He sets me on my feet and I follow his gaze to the bed. That’s when I notice the pile of clothing—we each get a t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  We finally stare at each other.

  His eyes radiate such compassion and tenderness.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur.

  “Dom, there’s nothing for you to apologize about. End of story.”

  I nod, holding back another wave of sobs.

  Since Isobel is much taller than I am––and we aren’t the same size––the clothing doesn’t fit properly. It’s a small price to pay considering, I don’t have to wear anything that’s been in contact with Gideon.

  “Come on,” Rod whispers. “You need to eat.”

  Then it hits me.

  “I haven’t eaten anything since lunch,” I say. Other than the bite I took from my wrap before my past came crashing into my present.

  “I figured that much,” Rod smiles warmly.

  When we reach the kitchen, Isobel and Rory already have a feast displayed on the table.

  “Wow. This looks so good,” I say with a wary smile.

  “Sit over here,” Isobel points to a chair. “I want you between Loki and I,” she says in a motherly way.

  I look at her confused.

  So does Rod.