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“I’m able to give you an allowance and a one-way ticket overseas.”
“To where?”
He shrugs, pausing next to the stall where I just had my shower. I shudder to think about him peeking in on my shower. “Where do you wish to go, Ms. Moretti? Does it matter as long as you get away from all of this?”
“What’s the catch?”
“If we ever hear your name again, it will be your death sentence.” His smile turns from mischievous to mocking as he steps toward me again, his polished black dress shoes clapping lightly on the tile. “We have eyes all over. You were foolish to try to trick us, and we won’t fall for such folly again.”
He pauses just a foot shy of me and turns to the bench where my things are piled. Clothes spill from a duffel bag that he rummages through, plucking the real notebook from a pack of underwear. If I could have taken it with me into the shower without damaging it, I would have done so—and maybe I should have sorted that out at some point.
But that point is moot now. The Persian holds my father’s notebook in his hands with a triumphant expression, a horrible look that makes my stomach flip. He steps toward me again, his gaze menacing as he backs me into a corner. “Poor, defenseless Alex.” He raises his eyebrows. “Or not so defenseless, eh? Didn’t you learn how to defend yourself?”
“I know plenty of things,” I manage to say through chattering teeth. “Don’t come any closer.”
His sinister grin widens as he squints at me. His gaze drops to the towel I’m clutching for dear life against my chest. There’s no need for him to speak. The ideas in his head roll right across his face, irritating and frightening me all the same. What is it with men like him that always want to take control of my body?
Before I can react, he snatches my waist and presses me against him, his erection evident on my thigh. I grimace while trying to shove him off, growing sicker by the second as his fingers grind against the slit of my ass through the towel.
And just as quickly as it happens, he tosses me aside. “You’re soiled.”
My hip collides with the lockers, and I cringe at the pinch of pain in the bone.
“Used, ravished, dried up—” A smile cuts through his disappointed expression. “But your sister is not.”
“You leave my sister alone.”
He growls as he advances menacingly toward me. “You’ll do well to stay out of my affairs. Do you understand that, Alexandra?”
I shake my head. “You touch a hair on her head and I’ll chop off your balls.”
“Really? Do you have the stomach for that?”
“I have the stomach for plenty, you perverted ass.”
He chuckles. “I’m not sure you could handle it. Besides, we’re stronger than you think. You may end up joining your father if you continue down this path.”
“Are you threatening me?”
The Cheshire expression returns as he waves the notebook in front of my face. “All that defense training, and you couldn’t keep this from being snatched. What a waste.” He rolls his eyes, appearing suddenly bored as he slips the notebook into the inner pocket of his blazer. “I’d be so upset if I spent all that time training you only to see you get taken advantage of at every turn.”
“Shut up.”
“Not stupid, but certainly weak,” he taunts. “One good dicking seems to be enough to drop all your defenses. Isn’t that so, Alexandra?”
I grit my teeth together and growl, “I’m not weak.”
He slaps me hard, sending me spiraling to the ground with a loud squeak. I cup my cheek where the flesh is sensitive, skin already swelling up from the blow. When I look up, Darren Park is gone. The Persian came and went so quickly that I didn’t have time to figure anything out. He hardly gave me the time.
If I’m this weak when facing my biggest foe, how the hell am I going to start an empire on the other side of the country?
While holding my cheek, I stand from the ground and keep my towel tight to my chest. The private locker room is deserted once more, without a trace of the Persian remaining. He wasn’t even wearing cologne—that’s how good he is at this ghastly business.
He has the notebook, I reflect with irritation as I lift my clothes from the ground. But how did he know it was a fake? My eyes widen as I drop the towel and yank on a pair of panties. Unless someone told him. And only one other person knew it was a fake.
My heart shudders in my chest as I rush to get dressed. Fear and adrenaline fuel my journey out of the private locker room, my feet barely carrying me through Thasos and into the parking lot. I lunge into my late mother’s Mercedes, start the car, and peel out without putting on my seat belt.
While I’m rummaging through my purse for my phone, the contents spill all over the passenger seat, makeup and tampons and spare change tumbling to the ground. I grab my phone, click on Coach Neill’s name, and hold the phone tightly to my ear. The line trills endlessly as I chant, “Come on. Pick up.”
