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Scum and a liar—he uses his position to gain what he wants.
He swings the door open, his dark hair—graying at the temples—is ruffled and there’s lipstick stains all over his neck and bare chest.
“James,” he greets. “Mary, Sherrie, Terry, and I were just getting started. Would you like to join us?”
I punch him straight across his already crooked nose. I hope it hurts like a bitch.
He falls to the ground from the force, not having expected that.
I point a finger at him. “That’s for fucking with me. Remember what I know about you? You better watch yourself,” I warn.
He grins up at me like there isn’t blood pouring from his nose. “And who will people believe? The man whore drug abuser or the living legend? Hmmm …?”
I shake my head, my jaw clenched. “Don’t fuck with me, Matthews. I’ll fuck you right back.”
He grins, and I walk away before I do something stupid—like hit him again.
I get back in the car and Grace stares at me wide-eyed. “You punched your coach,” she states.
“I did,” I pant, breathless. I think I’d been holding my breath and hadn’t realized it yet.
“Is your hand hurt?” she asks, grabbing ahold of my hand and drawing it to her. She inspects my knuckles, touching her fingers lightly to the tender skin.
“Nah, I’m fine.” I gingerly remove my hand from hers so I can put the car in drive. I want to get out of here before Matthews calls the cops or something. As we pull out of the neighborhood, I glance at her. “Are you okay to stay at my place? I can get you a hotel room if you’re more comfortable there?”
She shakes her head and looks away from the window to me. “Your place is fine.”
“Okay,” I say, my throat catching for some odd reason.
We arrive at my place thirty minutes later and I park in the garage beneath the building.
“This place looks swanky,” she comments. “At least from the outside. Garages all look the same, no offense.”
I laugh and get out of the car, grabbing our bags. “None taken,” I say when she gets out. “It is a pretty nice place I admit. I like it.”
She follows me to the elevator and I press the button for my floor.
“Not the penthouse?” she asks, pointing at the P button and raising a single brow.
I laugh. “No, not the penthouse. Didn’t want that. This is plenty big for me.”
She nods. “Not the penthouse,” she repeats.
“Making a mental note, Wentworth?”
She smiles. “Maybe. I’m deciding that maybe you’re not as douchey as I originally thought.”
I put a hand to my heart. “Aw, I’m touched.”
She punches me lightly in the stomach, her lips twitching with laughter.
The doors open and I lead her down the hall to my place. I set our bags down and dig my keys out of my pockets. I unlock the door and it swings open with a slight squeak.
I pick our bags up again and motion for Grace to head on in.
“Home sweet home,” I say, coming behind her.
I close the door and flick the lights on, dropping our bags on the floor again.
