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She’d felt, for one heart-stopping moment, cherished, as if she was living out her most romantic girlhood fairy-tale dream.
And then she’d walked by herself into the small hallway near an access door used for loading and unloading into the catering kitchens, and entered her worst nightmare.
“You fucking bitch.”
The words had hit her a split second before the body did.
Big. Hard. Smelling of sweat and liquor.
She hadn’t recognized him at first, too shocked to do anything but throw her hands up as he came at her. But she might has well have been trying to stop a tsunami with two open palms. Her strength was no match for his, her defenses completely ineffectual against the hundreds of pounds of angry, muscled man.
He grabbed her hair, pulled it painfully, while, with the other hand, he yanked a fistful of her dress and twisted. She heard seams tear, cried out at the agony of skin being sliced and abraded, then found herself thrust off her feet and shoved into the wall so hard her head thunked against it.
Her breath whooshing out of her, the world spun. Confusion warred with pain, but both immediately lost ground to fear. “What do you want?” she said, her voice shaking.
“Whatya owe me, y-you teasing whore.”
Her vision was blurry, tears, terror and pain confusing her, but at last she recognized the face and the voice.
“Bruno?”
“Should remember my name since you ruined my life.”
Genuine terror had her in its grip and now it squeezed tight. Bruno Neeley had always been a giant asshole, but he’d at least tried to hide his jerkish tendencies behind an aw-shucks-I-didn’t-mean-any-harm act.
Now there was no charm. His mask was off, the real man—big, angry, drunk—was fully revealed.
“I didn’t ruin your...”
“My wife took my kids, you cunt.”
Anger swelled, momentarily shoving the fear aside. Along with every other female in the world, she hated that word. “Smart woman,” she muttered.
He shoved her again, but this time he didn’t let go of her dress, and it ripped further. She crossed her arms over her breasts, struggling to keep herself covered. Though it went against her nature, Viv said nothing, instinctively aware she had to avoid provoking him further while she waited for an opportunity to escape him.
Viv tried to remember where the door to the next banquet room was, wondering if Damien had emerged through it yet. Nobody inside would hear her scream, but those leaving might.
“She’s divorcing me and is gonna get more in alimony than that stupid Canadian team can pay me.”
“Bruno, please, let me go. It wasn’t my fault.”
“Yes it was!” He leaned close, spittle landing on her skin as he shouted, “You acted like you wanted me, and when I took you up on it, you slapped me and humiliated me in front of the press. You cost me my job, and my family.”
“No, no I didn’t.” She swallowed, trying reason, though he was probably too far gone for that to work. “I never meant to lead you on. And I had no idea you would be traded.”
“Bullshit!” He rubbed his hand on his mouth, something she’d seen alcoholics do. Considering the man’s reputation for bad behavior, she had to wonder if he’d had an alcohol problem long before he’d gotten drunk to drown his woes tonight.
“You’ve got to let me go. I’m sure we can work this out.”
“Yeah, you gonna get your boyfriend to cancel the trade and give me my job back?
She shook her head. “What?”
“You got me fired, you can fix it. Spread your legs, make him happy and get me on the team again.”
Now he was just rambling. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Stop lying, I saw you with him! You’re fucking the team owner.”
“No, I’m certainly not. That’s crazy.”
“Well, you will be soon, ’cause that’s the only reason anybody would be with you. You stupid bitch, he just wants a piece of ass.” He let out an ugly laugh. “Oh, and to keep you from suing or something. When his pussy lawyer threw me out, he said the owner was sooo worried about you suing them all.”
“Bruno, I’m sorry for your problems, but you’re very confused right now.”
“You’re the one who’s confused if you really believe some billionaire gives a shit about a trashy slut like you.”
She swallowed hard, determined not to let his words get to her. She couldn’t let her anger lead her to make a mistake that would goad him into more violence.
But he wasn’t finished. “You ain’t livin’ no fairy tale, sweetheart. I don’t care how much you dance around the room with him.”
