by Sybil Bartel
Raising an eyebrow, the prick nodded at me then looked back at Audrina. “Did you want to tell us about the guest you brought with you, first?”
Fucking tool.
Audrina picked an invisible piece of lint off her skirt for effect before acknowledging the host. Feigning nerves, working the audience, I had to admit she was fucking spectacular at what she did.
“Well, Jonathan.” Audrina blushed. “I did bring a certain special someone. And while I had told myself I wasn’t going to talk about the… incident, or anything personal, I think my fans probably deserve an explanation.”
The prick host leaned even closer to her, his expression grave. “Can you tell us what happened that night on the beach?”
Looking contrite, Audrina inhaled. “I was drugged.”
A shocked, collective gasp echoed through the audience.
Audrina didn’t miss a beat. “I know this is not what I am supposed to say, and I know it’s not what the studios want me to reveal, but after talking to… my friend, and thinking things through….” She faced the audience. “I think it’s important to let women know what can happen to them in clubs, and I think it’s important for any man considering doing what my costar did to know that there are consequences.”
A roar of outrage went through the crowd.
The host held his hand up. “Are you saying Colton Payne drugged you without your knowledge or consent?”
Audrina turned back to the host. “I can neither confirm nor deny an ongoing investigation, but I will say that what you saw on those videos is nothing close to normal behavior for me, as I am sure you can attest to, Jonathan.”
“Sure, sure, of course.” The prick nodded diligently. “You’ve been on our show before and we’ve followed your career since your first movie. We’re big fans here at Miami Morning. I can personally say I have known you for years, and I have never seen any such behavior from you.”
Audrina gave a half smile. “Yes, well, it was not my finest hour.” She looked out at the audience. “But I am hoping you all will go see the movie when it releases. I would be honored.”
A cheer broke out in the crowd.
The host laughed then held his hand up again. “So, before we go to commercial break, would you care to share with us who this special someone is?” The host’s face turned serious. “Who I am assuming is not your costar in this case.”
Her blush returned. “No, definitely not my costar, Jonathan.”
Jesus Christ.
“In fact,” Audrina continued, “this person is quite opposite from any costar I’ve ever worked with. He’s caring and dominant and alpha, and he protects me in his own special way, but he is definitely not Hollywood.” Sweet, innocent, a smile spread across her face.
She turned to look at me.
My fucking chest tightened and a war unleashed inside me. I wanted her looking at me. Possessive and so fucking past unprofessional, I wanted the fucking world to know she was looking at me. But I didn’t want to be seen. I wanted no fucking part of this life.
“In fact,” she continued, “he’s the only person besides my lawyer who knows about the change in my life I’m about to make. A giant step, if you will.” She glanced at me and smiled wide.
The host’s eyes went wide as fuck. “A giant step?”
Meeting the host’s surprised gaze, Audrina nodded. “Yes, Jonathan. I’m taking a step out of the spotlight.” She smiled shyly. “I think it’s time, don’t you?”
The crowd and the host gasped.
“I… wow. I wasn’t expecting this.” The host chuckled before his expression turned grave. “I was hesitant to bring this up, since we have a mixed audience of all ages here and the producers have yet to verify its validity, but we were alerted to a video of you, apparently taken yesterday afternoon by a private pool, with a certain… gentleman.” The host glanced at me. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to comment on that? The footage is quite revealing, in both content and nature. Would this incident, or the gentleman, have anything to do with you suddenly deciding to step away from your career?”
My heart fucking stopped.
Without missing a beat, Audrina nodded as if she were thinking. “I’ve known you to be such an honest and professional presence in this industry, Jonathan. I would hope that you’d be intent on maintaining your reputation rather than showing some presumed video footage of me.” Her practiced smile spread across her face, but it didn’t touch her eyes. Then, looking like an angel, she dropped a motherfucking bomb.
“Besides, it’s no secret. I like role playing with my special someone.” She turned back to look at me. Crossing her wrists like she was in handcuffs, she lifted her arms toward me in surrender. “You ready for me, baby?”
The crowd went fucking ballistic.
The cameras swung toward me, the host stood up, and the noise of the audience roared through my head. Leaning back in her seat like it was all a big joke, Audrina dissolved into actress fake giggles.
But it wasn’t a joke.
Not even close.
She’d just sunk my motherfucking career.
TANK LOOKED APOPLECTIC AS THE crowd roared.
Bile rose in my throat, but I held my fake smile.
The host shot to his feet. Whooping, pumping his fist, inciting the audience, he spun on me and said something I couldn’t hear over the noise.
It didn’t matter.
My heart pounding like I was going to have a heart attack, the look on Tank’s face crushing me, I told myself I did the right thing.
I’d distracted and evaded.
I’d had to.
But I was sick about it. Gut-wrenchingly sick, but I didn’t have a choice. Jonathan must’ve had a video of Tank spanking my naked ass as he flung me over his shoulder. I had to protect Tank. I remembered every word of his threat about making him my next viral video, and I couldn’t let that happen. I’d lose him for sure if that happened. Not that I had him, I knew that, rationally, but I couldn’t let a video surface of him. At least now I had a chance to text Peter and tell him to sue Jonathan and Miami Morning if they leaked anything.
But seeing Tank’s face… oh God. I told myself I had to say what I did. I had to get the attention away from whatever footage Jonathan had.
The host shouted over the crowd, “We’re cutting to commercial, but stay tuned!” He turned to the producer in the wings, laughing, making a cutthroat motion.
The cameras swung to scan the audience and the live stream cut to commercial.
Tank was on me in half a second. His hand wrapped around my upper arm and we were moving. His other arm in front of us, he plowed through the producer and everyone else in production, taking us straight toward the rear exit. The producer, the host, the stage hands, the assistants, they shouted my name, and his, but Tank didn’t even pause.
The two Luna and Associates men that’d come with us suddenly appeared, and Tank moved his hand to the back of my neck.
Idiotic, unexpected heat rushed between my legs at the display of dominance and I faltered, making me misstep. My ankle twisted in my six-inch heels and I cried out as I started to fall.
Before I hit the ground, his heavy, thick arms landed behind my knees and back and I was airborne.
Knowing I shouldn’t throw him under the bus anymore, knowing it was shitty, I couldn’t let the opportunity pass. I looked behind us, then I did what every actress lived to do.
I gave them a show.
Blowing the entire crew, host and producer a Hollywood kiss, I wrapped my arms around my bodyguard’s thick neck, threw my head back and laughed like this was all part of the show.
Tank kicked the back door open.
The three black Escalades right where we’d left them, Tank strode to the front one. “Protocol,” he barked, yanking the rear door open.
“Copy,” the two other bodyguards said in unison, one walking to the second SUV, the other getting behind the wheel of the front one.
Tank practically threw me i
n the back seat and got in behind me, slamming the door shut. “Drive,” he barked at the blond man in a Luna and Associates shirt who’d gotten behind the wheel.
The driver floored it, and I was pushed against the seat. For ten terrifying minutes he wove in and out of downtown Miami traffic until he cut across to the coast and drove toward the house in Golden Beach.
The whole ride, Tank sat next me silently fuming. His mouth set, his jaw ticking, he stared out the window.
My hands shaking, I pulled my phone out of my purse and sent Peter a text, telling him to go after Miami Morning for whatever video they had and spend whatever it took to get it shut down.
Fighting tears, I carefully took off my shoes and rubbed my sore ankle. It wasn’t swelling up, so thank God for that, but it still hurt. Everything hurt.
The driver pulled up to the first security gate and entered the code, then drove to the gate for the house and entered that code. Before he had the SUV in park, Tank was throwing his door open and barking out orders to him. “Leave the keys. Get a ride back with Collins.”
The blond-haired driver nodded, and Tank slammed his door shut.
I fought for composure. “Thank you for the ride.”
The driver watched Tank crossing the front of the vehicle, then he hit the lock button and glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “You okay alone with him?”
I watched the fury in Tank’s set jaw as he strode toward my door, and my heart crushed in on itself. “Yeah, fine.”
The concern in the driver’s face didn’t ease. “You sure?”
Tank yanked on my locked door. When it didn’t open, he glared at the driver through the front window even though I knew he couldn’t see him and banged the side of his fist on my door. “Open up, Sawyer,” he barked.
“Last chance,” the man he’d called Sawyer warned.
“I’m fine.” I heard the door lock release as I grabbed my shoes and purse. A split second later my door was yanked open.
Two giant arms shoved under my legs and behind my back, and Tank took me from the vehicle.
Clutching my shoes and purse to my chest, I dared to glance up at the man who’d woken me in the middle of the night to make love to me.
He didn’t look furious, he looked enraged.
For a split second, I cowardly thought about the other bodyguard’s unspoken offer. But as I looked over Tank’s shoulder, Sawyer was already getting into the other Escalade that’d pulled up behind us, and in truth, I didn’t want to run away from this man. As angry as he was, there wasn’t anywhere else I wanted to be than with him.
Without a word, Tank strode to the front door, unlocked it, and shoved it open. One step inside and he kicked it shut before dropping the arm under my legs.
My bare feet hit the cold travertine floor, and I opened my mouth to apologize again.
Tank’s nostrils flared and the fury in his eyes robbed me of breath. “What. The fuck. Was that?”
His veins popping in his neck, his jaw ticking—I’d never seen a more powerful display of emotion. And for the first time I saw him, really saw him.
His dark-brown-edged eyes melted into a perfect kaleidoscope of greens and blue before a darker blue ring circled the black of his pupils. His clean shave this morning had given way to a dark stubble that made my fingers itch to touch it. Three tiny lines in each of the outer corners of his eyes made me wonder how hard-fought his years in the Marines were. The sharp edge of his square jaw tensed as he ground his perfect teeth and I didn’t know if the flawless angles of his sculpted face were more Seminole or German.
I thought about every feature on his beautiful, fury-stolen face. But mostly I thought about the full, dark mauve of his bottom lip that was too masculine to be beautiful and too hard to be seductive, but had nonetheless stolen my breath when he’d kissed me so tenderly last night and again this morning right before we’d walked out the door.
And he had kissed me.
After waking me up and making love to me, he’d kissed me like he cherished me, and his hard length had slid out of my body without pain. Then he’d lifted me into his arms and taken me to the shower. He’d washed every inch of my body before he’d taken me against the wall, slowly driving in and out of me until we both came. And he’d done it all without uttering a word.
Afterward, he’d kissed the top of my head and left me to dry my hair. I was putting on makeup when he’d silently come back and stood behind me in the bathroom. Wearing only boxers, his muscles on full display, he’d stared at me in the mirror as he’d kissed the back of my neck and run a caressing hand over my breasts and down my stomach before settling between my legs. Cupping me, he’d simply stood there for a long moment, staring at my reflection and making a silent statement.
I was his.
My body was his.
He was claiming what he wanted.
Then, just as quietly as he’d come up on me, he’d stepped back and walked out. My heart racing, my core wet and aching with need for more of him, I’d taken a moment to get my bearings. Then I’d walked into the bedroom to find he’d laid out a dress, a matching lace bra and panty set, and shoes for me on his bed.
Smiling, I’d put on what he’d picked out for me then made my way to the front of the house where he’d been waiting at the door. Tall and imposing and dressed in his bodyguard uniform, he’d smelled like heaven. Then he’d pulled me into his arms and kissed me, and it’d felt like heaven.
But the formidable, angry warrior in front of me now was not the man who’d protected me, counseled me, befriended me in his own way, and kissed me without reservation. This angry warrior, he screamed dominance and control, same as my bodyguard, but the fury on his face also told another story.
It said I’d undermined him and betrayed him in every way. And I’d single-handedly destroyed his reputation.
Crushing guilt made bile rise in my throat. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “He said he had video of yesterday by the pool. I couldn’t let that leak, it would’ve been worse. I thought some silly words would be better than that.”
“Worse for who?” he barked, making me flinch. “Did you have proof he had any fucking video? He knew damn well if he showed shit, you would’ve sued him and the fucking network.” His nostrils flared, and he shoved his free hand in his pocket, yanking out his cell phone and sweeping his thumb across to answer it without ever taking his eyes off me. “What?” he barked.
He was so close to me, I heard a man on the other end of the line swear in Spanish. “Jesucristo.” Then his rapid-fire Spanish was too quick for me to pick anything up, but apparently Tank understood it.
“I fucking know that,” he bit out.
I heard more Spanish and picked up the word fuck three times and reputation.
Tank glared at me as he answered whatever question the man asked. “No, you’re not.” Tank hung up, shoving the phone back in his pocket. “You didn’t just fuck me over, I was wearing a company shirt. How long before Luna’s name is in the mix?”
He didn’t wait for me to answer.
“I’ll fucking tell you how long. Seconds. It was seconds before headlines hit the gossip sites and both my name and the company of my Marine brother were posted, dragged through the mud and slammed all over social media and the news outlets.” Every word was bit out with a fury I’d never witnessed in my entire life, personal or professional.
And I deserved it.
I hadn’t thought for one second about what he was wearing, or if my words would leak past my world into someone else’s.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered again. “I didn’t want the press getting hold of video of you.”
“Of me?” he roared.
Tears welled. “I’m sorry.” I wanted to curl into a ball and sob. “I’ll make a statement. I’ll redact what I said.”
“Redact?” he asked, incredulous. “It’s fucking retract when you speak, not redact. And you can’t ever take that shit back. You think this is some kind of fucking court case wher
e you can have your motherfucking bullshit stricken from the goddamn record?”
A tear slid down my cheek. “Yes.”
He glared so hard I faltered.
“M-maybe.” No. Oh God. “I don’t know,” I lied, knowing exactly what the press was like. He’d already been tried and convicted as a sadist and his boss’s company’s reputation was already ruined. Which maybe wouldn’t have mattered so much a few years ago, but in an industry teeming with accusations and accounts of sexual impropriety toward women? I fought tears. “I’m sorry. I’ll fix this.”
“Grow the fuck up. You can’t fix shit!” He spun and strode toward the bedrooms.
Every decision I’d made in the past forty-eight hours flashed through my mind, and I panicked.
Seriously panicked.
Then I said the last thing I should have. “Falcon, wait!”
Pivoting, he took two giant steps and was on me so fast, I didn’t have time to take a breath.
“Do not fucking call me that,” he seethed. “You don’t deserve to use my name.”
I watched the muscles bunch and pull on his wide, strong back as he turned and stormed into the master bedroom, slamming the door shut.
I LOCKED MYSELF IN THE master bedroom before I did something fucking stupid like spank the ever-loving shit out her. Or worse, angry fuck her until I wasn’t so goddamn pissed off.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, saving me from putting my fucking fist through the wall.
“What?” I barked without looking at the display.
“She still alive?” Sawyer asked.
“Go fucking fuck yourself.”
He ignored me. “Did you know about a video, or have an idea what she was going to say?”
“Are you fucking serious?”
“I’m not accusing you, Gunther, I’m asking.”
Sawyer was the only goddamn fuck I allowed to get away with calling me by my real name. Well, him and the fucking entitled bitch in the next room I was too goddamn pissed off at to talk to.
I hadn’t corrected Sawyer the first time he’d called me by my surname because the fucker was a goddamn enigma. Rich as hell, his life set before he ever took his first breath, but the stupid fuck had given it all up to aim a government-issued M4 at fucking hajjis in a forsaken sand trap. I respected the hell out of him for it at the same time I thought he was crazy as shit. Too damn quiet for his own good, I’d never seen the fucker smile, look twice a woman, make a personal call, or say one goddamn thing about his upbringing. In fact, he never said shit unless you asked a direct question or he was talking about work.