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Tess simply does way too much for others, not enough for herself. Her father is at the very top of the ‘others’ list. All my life I’ve watched that jackass treat his daughter like she was born to serve him.
Well, Tess is not his fucking property. It’s long past time she let him know this.
Conner tries to turn into the Palace Hotel parking garage and is met with a gaggle of unsmiling men in dark suits. Ballerini’s security goons, I’m guessing. One of them raps on the window.
Conner lowers it. “How are you doing? I live here.”
The guy is probably about our age, with a Marine haircut and a face like a sledgehammer. His eyes pop wide when he gets a good look at who is behind the wheel. “Conner Wiseman. Holy shit. Hell of a game last week.”
Conner, used to random acts of adulation, doesn’t tell the dude to piss of. Nope, Conner smiles and even agrees to autograph his phone case with a handy Sharpie.
Sledgehammer is so delighted he flashes a row of corn-like teeth before noticing that Conner has company in the passenger seat.
“And your name, sir?”
I’m about to tell him that my name is Fuck Around And Find Out when Conner takes the lead and answers for me.
“That’s my bodyguard.”
Sledgehammer scans my face, probably thinking I can’t be much of a bodyguard slouched over here with a black eye. If he has more than a handful of IQ points it might occur to him why a pro athlete the size of Conner Wiseman would need a bodyguard at all.
“He’s shy,” Conner explains when I keep shooting out a death glare.
The guy nods and seems to decide he’s better off not asking more questions. He waves us through with no additional trouble.
Conner slow rolls through the levels all the way up to the roof, then parks and cuts the engine. “I can go down there with you.”
“No need.” I know he’d rather not. There will be a huge fuss in the room if he makes an appearance. Hell, Ballerini would probably haul him up on the stage and pretend they are BFFs.
“You guys coming up afterwards?” he asks as we cross the concourse to the hotel. The elevators are just on the other side of the door. He’ll be heading up to the penthouse while I need to get down to the ballroom.
“Don’t know. I’ll play it by ear, see what Tess wants to do.”
He nods and knuckles the elevator button. “Tell her congrats on the win in case I don’t see her later.”
“Will do.”
He looks me over as if he’d like to say something, but knows it probably isn’t a good idea.
Which it isn’t.
I don’t want to be interrogated or pitied. I just want to go kiss my girl and drag her away from her father’s clutches.
“Catch you later.” Conner disappears into the elevator.
The second elevator dings but I decide to punish myself and jog all the way down to the ground floor instead.
No bones got cracked tonight. I’m sure of it. I’ve done that plenty of times and the pain is sharper. This is nothing. Just bruises and a big fat fucking dent in my pride.
When I shove open the door to the ground floor it’s like I’ve walked into a three ring circus. There are flags and banners and random pieces of colored confetti littering the floor. Huge signs screech BALLERINI in every direction and giddy people draped in Vote For Ballerini crap are collected in groups.
If I’d stumbled into this nightmare to see anyone other than Tess I’d turn right around and run back the way I came.
Great. Here comes a trio of Sledgehammer’s suit-and-tie pals. They are marching this way after taking one look at me, concluding I’m a threat that needs to be escorted out of their dear leader’s airspace.
Without thinking, I square my shoulders and tense, ready to pounce.
This will go real fucking badly if they try to touch me right now.
