by M. S. Parker
“Stop,” Tyrell snapped, his eyes hard as he glowered down at me. “Don't you think Dorian did his own background checks? He’s thorough. He knows what he's doing.”
“Anita checked her out too,” I said, taking a deep breath and trying for a neutral tone. “So I'm sure Mr. Forbes found the same thing she did. Very little on Gilen Roche, because that's not her name. Tyrell, she’s using–”
“I don't have time for this,” Tyrell interrupted, the muscles popping in and out of this jawline. “I have a match I need to get ready for.” He started to walk away, then stopped and glanced over his shoulder at me. “Make sure you pull your shit together before Vegas because I have no problem telling Dorian to call your boss and keep you here.”
And then he was gone.
I swallowed hard and blinked, fighting against the tears that wanted to spill over. All I wanted to do was protect him. I thought that since I'd taken the break-up well, he'd believe that I was only interested in his well-being. I could see now that it didn't matter how I behaved. He clearly didn't know me well enough to know that I'd never be so petty. I supposed, in a way, it was better we'd found these things out now rather than if we'd stuck together and discovered them much later.
And it was a good lesson for the future for me. Stay far away from anyone I was doing a story on – and stick to my guns when it came to dating athletes. There were probably good ones out there, but I wasn't going to sift through all the shit to find the diamonds.
In fact, at least for the time being, I was going to avoid men altogether and focus only on my career.
And that meant heading over to Aces and giving Anita what I found.
Chapter Eleven
Tyrell
“What'd she want?” Paul asked when I came back out of the locker room.
For a moment, I considered telling him, getting some advice about what I should do, what I should believe. Then I remembered how much he disliked Gilen and figured that would probably be a bad idea. The last thing I needed was more animosity between my two trainers. Plus, Paul would start digging into my relationship with Cyn, which could get her in trouble with the magazine and I didn’t want that either. I was having a hard enough time of this as it was.
“Nothing,” I said. “Let's go.”
I was used to channeling negative emotions into my fists and feet, and I managed to do the same now, focusing better than I had in a long time. Then Gilen arrived, and I found myself paying closer attention to her mannerisms than I was to what she was actually saying. Every time she told me to do something, I looked for an ulterior motive, for some twitch or flinch that would tell me she wasn't on my side.
I couldn't spot anything, and each time I reaffirmed to myself that Cynthia Rose was wrong, I felt more justified in how I'd behaved. I didn't want to think that she was being vindictive, but what I'd told her was right. We really didn't know each other that well. I'd thought she was sweet and kind, strong, but in a quiet sort of way. For all I knew, that had been all pretend, and this was who she really was.
It wasn’t the first time I’d gone to bed with a sweet woman and woke up to the bitch from hell. You’d think I’d learn my lesson by now. Apparently not.
I didn't want to think about her that way, but it was the only thing that made sense. What Cynthia Rose had proposed wasn't logical. Hollin Pressman's girlfriend coming here to undermine me as Cyn claimed? Really? If Hollin was going to cheat, it would've made more sense for him to plant drugs, hire someone to beat me up. And I couldn't see him doing that. He was brutal in the ring, but I'd never heard of him using threats or intimidation to force a match to go his way.
Plus, Dorian had checked her out and she wouldn’t be here if her techniques didn’t work, if he didn’t trust that she’d do right by me.
Gilen was doing all she could to help me win. It wasn't her fault that everything around me was going to shit and I couldn't keep my head in the game. If anything, it was Cynthia Rose who was distracting me, keeping me from being my best.
But even as I thought these things, even as I told myself that she was the problem, I felt bad that my disbelief had clearly hurt her. As angry as I was, I didn't like seeing her hurt, and I definitely didn't like being the one to do it.
“You've been awfully quiet today,” Gilen said, breaking into my thoughts.
“Just focusing,” I said, not looking at her. “Down to the wire now.”
“It is,” she agreed. “And you're looking much better today.”
I didn't really agree with her, but I took the compliment anyway. I could use all the positive energy I could get. I barely spoke as I continued to work on the bag, practiced different moves, jumped rope, lifted weights. I pushed myself harder than I had before, wanting nothing more than to work myself into oblivion. I barely even noticed everyone else leaving until Paul shouted at me to lock up, and then I was alone.
I kept going for another half hour or so, then decided to call it a night. Once I showered and all the adrenaline left my system, I was pretty sure I'd be able to get a good night's sleep. Even all of the tension built up inside me couldn't force me past that much exhaustion.
I stripped down as I headed for the showers, tossing my clothes into the gym's laundry as I grabbed a clean towel. The best thing about staying after everyone else had gone home was that I had the showers to myself and I could take as long as I wanted without worrying about being disturbed. The white noise sometimes helped my head clear better than anything else.
I'd barely been there five minutes when I felt hands sliding down my back, stopping just above my ass. Apparently, Gilen hadn't left after all.
I kept my eyes closed, let the water run over me as she slid her arms around my waist. I was half-hard when she wrapped her fingers around me, and I waited for her to be rough like she was the last time. To my surprise, however, her hand moved slowly over me, the water keeping the friction from being too much. I felt her mouth against my shoulder-blade, the scrape of teeth. She squeezed me, and air hissed from between my teeth.
“I want you on your knees.” That low, husky voice made it clear that she wasn't really making a suggestion.
When I'd gone with her to the S&M club, I'd enjoyed myself, but it was clear she took the whole dominatrix – or Domme as she'd told me later – thing seriously. While I wouldn't mind exploring some other aspects of the lifestyle, I didn't think I was a natural Submissive. Maybe one of those kinds of people who liked to do both, but I didn't think that'd work for Gilen.
Not that what was happening between us here would ever become more. We weren't in a relationship.
This was fucking. Plain and simple. Or, at least as simple as sex could ever be.
I turned and went down on my knees in front of her. She was tall enough that this could work. It wouldn’t have with Cyn.
I pushed the thought aside and reached out to grasp Gilen's hips. I glanced up her long, thin body, and found her watching me. She raised an eyebrow, and I knew she was telling me to get on with it.
My cock was saying the same thing, so I didn't mind listening.
I ran my tongue over her bare flesh, dipping as far between her legs as I could get. She hooked her leg over my shoulder, opening herself until I had better access. As I began to work my mouth over her, she ran her fingers through my hair. I heard her moan, and then her hips were rocking against me as she held my head in place.
“Fingers,” she ordered.
With one hand on her ass, I pushed two fingers inside her pussy. She swore, her body jerking hard.
“That's good,” she said. “Move them.”
I scowled, moving my hand more roughly than I would have if she'd let me do it on my own. She dug her nails into my shoulder, but a quick glance up at her told me she didn't mind that I wasn't gentle. I twisted my fingers, searching for that spot inside. Her back arched, and I knew I'd found it. I pressed against it, rubbing until she came, her pussy tightening around my fingers until it almost hurt.
I used m
y mouth then, teasing her clit to draw out her orgasm until she finally slumped over, panting, hands clutching at my shoulders. I stood up, keeping my arms around her so she wouldn't fall. She let me move us under the spray, but even then, I knew she was only letting me do it because she wanted it too.
She turned toward the wall and put her hands on the cold tile. I was fine with that. I didn't need to be looking in her eyes or see her face. It was sex, not love. Hell, I didn't even know if it was like.
But I needed the release. I needed to think about nothing except the physical.
Gilen looked over her shoulder at me, her eyes darker than usual. “Stretch my ass.”
I blinked, and it wasn't because of the water on my face.
“I want you to fuck my ass,” she said bluntly. “But you're too big to go right in.”
My brain caught up as I nodded in agreement and reached down between us to slide my fingers between her ass cheeks. She pushed back against my hand even as I tried to go slow. Apparently, that wasn't what she wanted, and I was starting to realize that, even if she said she was doing this to help me relax, it was about what she wanted.
Before I thought she was ready, she held her hand back over her shoulder and I saw that she'd produced a condom from somewhere. I was glad she'd thought of it because I hadn't. I rolled it over my cock, then positioned myself behind her, putting the tip against her entrance.
“Do it,” she hissed.
I pushed inside, cursing as she shoved back, forcing my cock all the way into her tight ass. I squeezed my eyes closed, my fingers feeling the bones in her hips. For a moment, I wished the hips were fuller, softer, but then Gilen was reaching back with her hand and grabbing my thigh.
“Move, damn you!”
Her harsh voice snapped me back to reality, and I focused only on the feel of her ass around my cock, the harsh sound of our breathing. My own need was coiled tight and hot in my stomach, and I let it take over, let myself give in to that part of me that didn't want to think, that only wanted to come. Gilen was a willing and warm body.
I couldn’t let anything else matter to me right now.
Chapter Twelve
Cynthia Rose
I didn't have a restful weekend. In fact, my weekend completely sucked.
After my frustrating chat with Tyrell, I'd gone in to the office and had a talk with Anita. I told her everything...except for the fact that I'd slept with Tyrell. I kept it as a half-truth, only telling her that we’d gone on a couple dates. I'd wanted her opinion about what to do and why he would accuse me of being jealous. She hadn't been happy about the dates, but she'd at least refrained from any lectures.
She also agreed to get the magazine's on-call PI to look even deeper into things. While what I had was enough to speculate that Gilen was up to no good, it wasn't enough to print it. I agreed with her there. I wanted to keep Tyrell safe, but I wasn't about to get Aces sued for libel in the process.
Anita wasn’t happy that I'd talked to Tyrell, but she'd understood. There were journalists who wouldn't interfere at all, not even if someone was in danger, but Anita was more like me in that she'd rather lose the story than have someone get hurt.
Which was why she didn't argue with me when I called her early Monday morning to tell her that I was going to talk to Mr. Forbes. He needed to know what I'd discovered so he could determine what to do. I didn't know much about Dorian Forbes other than the basics, but he didn't seem like someone who took chances when it came to his fighters.
None of that, however, made me less nervous about walking into the gym again. I kept my eyes straight ahead as I walked past all of the trainers and fighters, forcing myself not to scan the area for Tyrell. I didn't want to see him again. I knew I'd have to, at the very least at the fight, but I planned on keeping my distance. Right now, I just wanted to pass along what I knew and get out of there without being embarrassed.
I knocked on the door and told myself that I was just imagining the feeling of someone watching me.
“Come in.”
I opened the door and stepped inside. Mr. Forbes looked up, his eyebrows going up in surprise. “Cynthia Rose, right?”
“Yes, Mr. Forbes.”
“Dorian, please.” He gestured toward the chair across from him. “How can I help you?”
I took a slow breath as I sat down. “I'm not quite sure how to begin.”
He gave me a crooked smile. “I'm assuming there's either something you need to tell me or ask me, so why don't you start there?”
“Tell you,” I answered automatically. “It's about Gilen Roche. She's not who she says she is.”
His smile disappeared, but he didn't look angry at me, so that was good. “Go on.”
“On Thursday, when Tyrell was sparring, I noticed that she didn't look upset when you called him into your office.” I twisted my fingers together. “And it made me suspicious, so I started looking into–”
“I checked her out when I hired her.”
“I know,” I quickly said. “And under the name Gilen Roche, she checked out fine. But that's her mother's maiden name. Her real last name's Hamilton.”
Dorian leaned back in his chair. “A lot of women have professional names.”
I nodded. “That's what I thought at first, but then I found something that ended up leading me to a picture and a story.” I made eye contact. “Have you heard of Candan Shrieve?”
Dorian shifted in his chair. “He was a top-ranked UFC fighter a few years ago who I considered recruiting to the FFC before he lost a fight to Hollin Pressman...” His voice trailed off, eyes narrowing. “What's the connection?”
“Gilen was dating Shrieve at the time of the fight, and his trainer blamed her for the loss. No one really thought anything of it because most trainers think their fighters shouldn't get involved with women before a big fight. Except Gilen dumped Candan right after the fight.”
“Not surprising since Candan ended up retiring,” Dorian said, tapping his fingers on his desk. “Some people said he was hurt too badly to fight again, but most people thought that he lost his drive, didn't want to fight anymore.”
I nodded. “That's what I read too. And then I gave him a call. While I won't repeat most of what he said, it pretty much came down to his belief that Gilen Hamilton screwed him over and sabotaged him so he would lose. When I asked why, he said that he saw her, the night he lost, going into Hollin Pressman's hotel room.”
The information sat in silence for several seconds before Dorian broke it.
“Mother fucking son of a bitch.”
I supposed that was as good a response as any.
“Tyrell?” He made it a question.
“I tried to tell him yesterday.” I felt my cheeks growing hot, but I wasn't going to share any details with Dorian. “He didn't believe me.”
One corner of Dorian's mouth twitched upward. “Not surprising. Tyrell rarely believes the worst about people.”
Except, apparently, when it came to me. He had no problem believing that I made up a bunch of lies because I was jealous.
But that wasn't the point. It didn't matter if I was jealous, or that I hated the idea that I'd been so easy to replace. The only thing that mattered was making sure Tyrell was safe.
“Do you have proof?” Dorian asked. “I believe you, but–”
I nodded. “I get it.” I held out the file I'd put together. “Anita's got the originals.”
“She's going to use them in the story.” Dorian took the file and opened it. He glanced over the first couple pages, his skimming telling me that he was more gleaning a few details than he was confirming what I said.
At least Dorian believed me.
“Would you mind waiting here for a moment?”
I would've preferred to go back to the office and hide in my cubicle, but I'd come to Dorian, and I felt some responsibility to stay as long as he needed me to. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. I'd had a headache pretty much non-stop since I figured out wha
t Gilen was doing, and I hoped it would go away once it became someone else's problem. No such luck, it seemed.
“Ms. Roche, please come into my office.”
Oh shit.
My head jerked up as Dorian came back inside. I opened my mouth to ask if I could wait for him outside the office, but then Gilen was inside. She shot me a look that said she didn't understand why I was there, but she didn't like it. Then, she was all smiles for Dorian. She was good, I had to give her that. She wasn't flirting with him, but it was a different sort of charm. She was playing the innocent professional card.
“Was there something wrong with the interview I gave?” she asked, her voice even, her tone perfectly puzzled.
I started to sidle toward the door but caught Dorian making a small gesture with his hand. He wanted me to stay where I was.
“I'm more concerned with the information you gave me when you applied for this position.” Dorian sounded just as polite as Gilen, but his eyes were cold. “You stated your name is Gilen Roche.”
I saw her stiffen, but it was very slight. Damn, she was good.
“That's the name I go by.”
“Not Hamilton?” he asked. “Because unless you have a twin out there, I think you're not exactly who you said you were.”
“Mr. Forbes...”
He cut her off. “I'd hoped you'd come clean, at least give me the courtesy of being honest.” His expression hardened. “Since it doesn’t appear you understand that word, there's no need to continue this conversation. You're fired.”
The words hung in the air for several seconds.
“Excuse me?”
Dorian continued as if she hadn't spoken, “How quickly you leave will most likely determine whether or not I decide to press charges for anything I can make stick.”
There was another moment of silence, and then she spun on her heel and stalked out, shooting a glare at me before she disappeared through the door.