by Mila Rossi
Sam rolled her eyes.
“So what then?”
“I have no idea,” she said, exasperated. “The guy has everything under the sun. He’s been boxing since he was eighteen and never lost a fight before that last one. Imagine how much money he has. What could I possibly offer him that he doesn’t already have?”
Clare seemed to consider the options. “Kids?”
“Very funny,” Sam grumbled.
“A time machine so he can go back in time and not lose his first fight?”
“I wish.”
The thought was interesting, however, as Sam considered his past. He’d been orphaned as a young kid and raised by an old man. Went straight into boxing, no college, and knew nothing but training and the gym ever since. Maybe there was something she could show him that he hadn’t experienced before.
“So are you gonna tell your boss that you can’t write the article?” Clare asked, tucking a strand of silky, chocolate-colored bob behind her ear.
Sam refilled her glass and set the bottle on the table. “No. That would be impossible. He pretty much told me that I need to do this assignment or I’ll lose my job.”
“Ouch. Tough work.”
“Tell me about it.”
She sipped her drink, enjoying the crisp chardonnay on her tongue. She was trying to be optimistic about her assignment, but a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that she might be in over her head. She took another sip, then a deep breath. She was resourceful and determined, she could do this. It was just another interview for the paper, nothing to worry about.
“Well, you could always just sleep with him and hope for the best,” Clare cut into her thoughts.
“My boss?” Sam asked outraged.
“No, dummy, the boxer.”
“That’s a terrible idea,” she replied, but had to admit that the thought had run through her head as well. Sleeping with him, despite everything they’d been through, didn’t sound as bad as she had made it seem. Seeing him shirtless outside of his gym had messed with her emotions. The guy was hot, there was no way around that.
Solid, strong muscles everywhere, a fuzz on his chest that went down to his happy trail, the tattoos which had been hard to make out in the pictures she’d seen online, and the sweat which had glistened on him as though he’d just finished making a girl scream his name. She was sure her mouth had dropped open at the beautiful sight. And then he’d touched her, here, there, with his fingertip, then his hand, and finally his whole body as his erection had pressed against her. She’d been that close to ripping her clothes off and letting him have his way with her. Thank God she’d been able to control herself.
Despite his ripped body and full lips she wanted to devour, he had a filthy mouth that was infuriating. Even if they were the only two people left on earth, she’d turn him down simply for the principle of it. He treated women like crap and that’s something she couldn’t stand. A man like that needed to be taught a lesson, but her mission wasn’t to do that. She had to focus on her interview.
“Why is that a terrible idea?” Clare asked, popping a cheese cube into her mouth.
“Because I’m sure that’s some kind of conflict of interest. I can’t have sex with the person I’m supposed to write about. I’m supposed to do my job, not him,” Sam said.
“Can’t you do both?”
She had to chuckle. “Always so efficient, aren’t you?”
“Just saying.”
Trent’s sweaty muscles popped into Sam’s mind and she wondered just how efficient she could be. If it came down to it, would she give in and have sex simply to get answers from him? She gulped uncomfortably. The realization that she was lusting over this guy who talked like a dirt bag, and acted like one, for that matter, was disturbing. And even more disturbing was the fact that she was even considering having sex in order to secure her job. Granted she wasn’t thinking about sleeping with her boss, but still. This was way below her standards. She shook her head, ashamed of herself.
“There’s no helping you,” Clare said, finishing her wine. She grabbed the remote and flipped channels.
Sam tried to pay attention to the programs on TV, but it was impossible. When some competitive reality show came on, she spaced out again.
What else could she do to convince him to talk to her? He was right about having everything under the sun. And she didn’t have a single penny she could spare to lavish him with bribes. The measly money she was making went to rent, bills and savings, which she didn’t touch.
She tapped her empty wine glass with her thumb, thinking.
He was used to lavish, expensive things and apparently could get any girl he wanted. What in heaven’s name could Sam offer that would interest him?
The impossibility of her situation was starting to gnaw a hole in her stomach and she was getting angrier by the second. Why had she opened her big mouth and come up with this stupid idea?
She refilled her glass and finished the contents in one gulp.
Clare gave her an amused look. “Thirsty, are you?”
Sam merely grunted and leaned her head back against the edge of the couch. “I’m screwed.”
“Don’t give up hope yet, Sam. I’ve not known you to fail at anything you put your mind to.”
A peppy message that Sam wanted to take to heart, but couldn’t. For once, she felt like she’d be taking on the impossible.
***
It had been a week since Trent had spoken to the reporter, and he hadn’t heard from her since. He was both surprised and disappointed that she’d given up so quickly. The interview wouldn’t have happened anyway, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have had some fun with her. She deserved nothing less for slapping the shit out of him. Now it seemed he had to find himself another play toy.
He’d just finished a sparring session and was rinsing away the day’s stress in the shower. No matter how much he was trying to stay in the game, his head just wasn’t in it. His training was off, his mind was elsewhere, and Ramirez and the rest of the crew were letting him have it. Lately, he felt like he was everyone’s punching bag.
“Trent, your lady friend is here to see you,” Ramirez called out over the music Trent had put on in the locker room.
The news instantly made him feel better. At least messing with her would put him in a good mood.
“Tell her to come here!” he shouted back.
He heard Ramirez say something in turn, but couldn’t make out what. A moment later, Samantha walked in, eyes huge and mouth practically hanging open.
“I didn’t realize you were in the shower,” she said, looking down at her feet. “I’ll wait in the gym.”
“The guys don’t like women hanging out there,” he replied, not bothering to cover up. Instead, he grabbed a washcloth and started soaping.
“Then I’ll wait outside,” she said, never taking her eyes off the floor.
“What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you wait outside?” he asked, grinning.
Her head shot up and she narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re no gentleman, Page. If you were, you’d let me interview you.”
He laughed and turned to face her. She blushed, but held his gaze.
“Isn’t that what I’m doing?”
“No.”
“Consider it foreplay to your questions,” he said, scrubbing his neck.
She huffed and turned away. “I don’t do foreplay. I’ll be waiting outside for you.”
“What’d you bring me?” he called out before she had the chance to leave.
She stopped and hesitated before turning to him once more. He rinsed, then turned off the shower and grabbed a towel hanging nearby.
“I didn’t bring you anything,” she said, trying to look anywhere but at him.
He frowned in confusion. “Then why are you here?”
“I’m here to pick you up.”
He finished drying off, wrapped the towel around his waist and walked up to her. “Who said I’m going
anywhere with you?”
She cocked her head. “Oh, come on. Are you playing hard to get now?”
The irony of her words didn’t escape him. The woman was playing hard to get like she’d invented the game.
“Why? Do you like the challenge?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes and exhaled. “Not at all. Now get dressed and let’s go.”
His eyebrows shot up at her commanding attitude. “I’m not used to a woman in charge,” he said, closing the distance between them. “But I think I like it.”
“I’m going to remind you that I’m here to do my job, Page. Your inappropriate remarks aren’t getting you anywhere.”
“Well, unlike you, I like a challenge,” he said, pulling the towel away. “Fucking love it, in fact.”
Her eyes remained glued to his face and he wondered if their green would darken as he plunged deep inside her. His erection pressed against her and that green sure became more pronounced as her eyes widened.
She looked down between them, then up again. “You better put that away, Punisher. You won’t need it where we’re going.”
She turned and left without another word, making him laugh out loud. Goddamn, she was a piece of work; violent and demanding, like an army general, and he fucking loved it. He should’ve picked up on that the moment they met, when those pouty lips had turned him down.
He’d enjoy breaking down those walls until she begged him to fuck her. It would be glorious.
He finished getting dressed and told Ramirez on his way out that he’d stop by the gym again later that night. When he stepped out, he saw her waiting by the side of the building. She was scribbling in a small notepad and didn’t notice his approach. He was surprised that she wasn’t wearing another hot secretary outfit like the last time. That had definitely worked for him.
Tonight she wore snug jeans, short black heels, a white blouse and hoop earrings that peeked out from under her long, brown hair. She didn’t look like she was dressed for a work meeting or the club. He wondered where she was planning on taking him.
“This better be good,” he said, walking up to her.
She looked up, assessed his black T-shirt and jeans, and put her notepad and pen in her purse.
“I’ll drive,” she simply said, not giving him any clues as to their destination.
He followed her to the parked white Subaru Impreza. “You race?” he asked, knowing that one of the guys on his team liked fast cars and drove the same one.
“No,” she replied and unlocked the car.
He wondered why she was driving it then.
“You know, my guys usually come with me,” he mumbled, taking another look at the car. “I don’t even know where we’re going.”
Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be worried about a girl abducting him, but this one packed a punch. He’d have to watch that extending hand of hers.
“It’s a surprise,” she said, getting in. He slid into the passenger seat and she started the engine. “Don’t worry, you won’t need your babysitters tonight.”
“They’re not my babysitters,” he grumbled.
She drove out of the parking lot just as the sun was setting behind them. “Then why do they always follow you?”
“Because I pay them to.”
He saw her smile, but she kept her eyes on the road.
“So are you gonna tell me where we’re going? It better be good. Remember, something worth my time.”
“I know, I know,” she said, gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. Was she nervous? He smiled at the possibility.
“How about you just let yourself be surprised?” she offered. “Can you do that?”
“I hate surprises,” he said under his breath. No surprise he’d ever come across had been a good surprise.
She put on some music and they drove for a few minutes in silence. He noticed her hands relax on the steering wheel as her foot hit the gas, and they weaved in and out of traffic.
“How far are we going?” he wondered as they got on the freeway.
“It’s only a couple of exits away, don’t worry. I’ll get you back before you turn into a pumpkin again.”
He started laughing. “I like how you’re talking shit again. You know, for someone trying to talk me into giving an interview, you’re not doing a good job flattering me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Was I supposed to do that?” She gave him an impish smile. “You said you can have any girl you want. I’m sure they flatter you enough.”
He shook his head amused. She was right. He was used to getting whatever he wanted and having people tell him what he wanted to hear. She was the first person to turn him down and he was baffled by it. She wasn’t intimidated by him or awed by his status. He knew one thing though, and that was the attraction she felt toward him. She could say whatever she wanted; he’d seen the way her eyes had run over his body at the gym. He wasn’t an idiot. The little minx was fighting what he knew was going to happen eventually. She’d end up in his bed, just like the rest of them.
They took the next exit, and after a few turns, she pulled up to the side of the road. He looked around the dark neighborhood. Cookie-cutter houses, a few duplexes, and an apartment building in front of them.
“You’re going all out, aren’t you?” he said as they got out of the car.
“What were you expecting?” she asked, coming to stand beside him on the sidewalk.
He looked around again. “I don’t know. A hotel? Strip club, maybe?”
Her eyes twinkled back at him. “Come on, Punisher. Let yourself be surprised.”
The way her face lit up surprised him enough. He followed her to the apartment building, up the stairs and waited behind her as she knocked on the door of apartment 12. By now, he was seriously wondering what the hell they were doing there. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone with her after all, considering that she’d been pissed as hell during their first meeting. Was she trying to pull some shady shit to get back at him?
The door opened and an old man stared back at them. He was about Trent’s height, had a full head of gray, wiry hair and ruddy cheeks that showed signs of aging, but his eyes were sharp and discerning as he sized Trent up.
“Hey Hank, how you doing?” Samantha greeted him warmly.
“Sam, it’s about time. Adele’s been keeping the food warm.” He stepped aside and there was nothing for Trent to do but to follow her into the old man’s place.
He did a quick assessment of the inside and determined there was nothing to fear but the silk flower arrangements which decorated every corner of the room.
“Trent, this is Hank,” Samantha said, smiling at him. “Hank and his wife Adele made us dinner.”
Just then, an elderly woman walked into the living room, wiping her hands on the apron tied around her waist. She was a good head shorter than Samantha, with a frail body and gray hair tied up in a bun, but her smile made her seem larger than life.
“Well, if it isn’t Sam and her new boyfriend,” she said good-natured.
“I’m not her boyfriend,” Trent corrected at the same time as Samantha. Their gazes met before Samantha turned her attention to the old couple.
“Thanks so much for having us over. It’s very sweet of you.”
Trent had no idea what the hell was going on. He merely stood beside her like a statue on display.
“It’s nice to meet you, Sam’s boyfriend,” the old lady said, holding out her hands to him. He grabbed them and her warm fingers gave him a squeeze.
“Nice to meet you too, Adele. And Hank.” He extended his hand to the old man who shook it.
“Well, come on in, don’t just stand there like two awkward love birds,” Hank said.
Adele led the way, followed by Hank, then Samantha and Trent. He pulled her wrist to get her attention and leaned to whisper in her ear. “What are we doing here?”
“Having dinner,” she said over her shoulder.
There was no time for details as they
entered the kitchen and dining area, where the table was set. A large bowl of mashed potatoes, a platter with meatloaf, and green beans awaited them. It smelled good enough, but it sure beat the shit out of him why they were having dinner with the old folks.
They sat down and Adele served them. Trent took everything in in silence. He’d never been more confused in his life. Hell, even his loss to Povetkin hadn’t thrown him for a loop as much as this.
“I hope you like meatloaf,” Adele said, handing him a full plate.
He took it and smiled at her. “Love it.”
“Good. How about you, Sam? Hungry?”
“Starving,” Samantha said, giving Trent an amused look as she took the offered plate from Adele.
“Dig in, boy,” Hank said gruffly, “before it gets cold.”
Trent watched as everyone took their first bite, then he grabbed his fork and did so too. This was not the surprise he’d expected. At least there was no guy with a chainsaw waiting to cut him in two.
“I hope it’s to your liking,” Adele said, looking at him expectantly.
He took a bite of the meatloaf and nodded. “It’s fu—”
Samantha’s head snapped up to glare at him.
“It’s great, thanks,” he quickly corrected himself, making a mental note to keep the cursing to a minimum.
“It’s nice to finally meet one of Sam’s boyfriends,” Adele continued.
“Adele, he is not my boyfriend,” Samantha remarked with an indulgent smile.
Trent wondered what the relationship was between them. They weren’t her grandparents, of that he was sure, but what then? Family friends?
“Trent is a good friend of mine,” she said, catching him off guard. Other than when the introductions had been made, this was the first time she’d actually referred to him as Trent, not Punisher or his last name. She sounded like she was talking about a regular guy she knew.
“He is a boxer and I’m hoping to interview him for the paper,” she continued, looking at him across the table.
He returned her stare, but didn’t respond. This dinner, whatever this was supposed to be, didn’t merit a goddamn interview, that was for sure. If she wanted an interview, she’d have to do a hell of a lot better than this.