Chapter Eleven

Everything in me wanted to say yes when Aiden asked if we could talk last night, but I truly had things to do before April arrives. Still, I do want to talk to him, to spend time with him, and see if what we had can be bolstered back into existence with a little tender love and care. I search my feelings again, seeking the frustration and anger that had lived in my heart all these years, but I find very little of it remains. I hadn’t lied when I told him I still loved him, and there is little doubt in my mind that I ran to him, seeking his comfort and protection when everything went wrong for the last time. Deep down, I still trust Aiden Doyle with everything in me, and I know I’m safer with him in my orbit.

Now, if I can only convince my heart it’s just as safe. Falling for him again, letting him reel me into a relationship, makes my heart stutter and freeze. My heart is scared, still too wounded to go completely in although I’m pretty sure he would if I only gave him the word.

My mind drifts back to our very first kiss, way back in high school. He’d been down on himself for getting a C on a test that we’d spent countless hours studying for. I was proud of him. He’d pulled himself up from failing to passing. With a little more work, he could get an A. Still, he wouldn’t hear of it. He scowled as well as any teenage boy possibly could until I finally had enough, grabbed him by his shoulders, and planted the biggest kiss imaginable smack on his lips. I shocked myself and him with that spontaneous action. It took a blink for him to kiss me back, but when he did the sparks were plenty. From then on, not a single day passed without his lips on mine. Until he left.

I sigh and shake my head, turning my attention to my coffee maker for the third time. I can’t focus on basic tasks with him on my mind. How on earth will I manage to keep my mind straight if we do grow closer?

A knock on the door startles me. Checking my watch, I note it’s still early for the ladies to arrive. Freya and Chantelle convinced me to go to breakfast with them and the other ladies before April arrives for the week. I cross my kitchen and head into the living room as another knock hits my nerves. There’s really no need to bang so hard.

“I’m coming!” I call and open the door.

Stephen looks down at me and grins. “Found you.”

My throat tightens and fear drenches my entire body in a cold sweat. Panic keeps me rooted in place, unable to get to my keychain with my pepper spray. I can scream, but my neighbors are all at work this late in the morning.

Stephen steps inside, forcing me to take three steps back, and closes the door behind him.

“Get…get out,” I say, barely croaking out the words.

“Oh, I will, but you’re coming with me. Your father is angry with you, but if you return with me I’m sure I can convince him to go easy on you.” The scent of him makes me sick. His bespoke suit reeks of wasted money, and his blonde hair is impeccably combed. He’s entirely put together while I’m about to come apart at the seams.

“I’m not going with you,” I whisper and back farther into my apartment.

“You are,” he growls and grabs my arm, yanking me toward the door. “Let’s go. Now, before I get really angry.” I try to squirm free, but his grip is too tight. My socked feet slip over the hardwood floors until I fall on my rear end, almost bringing him with me. “Get up!” he shouts and yanks me up by my arm.

Another knock at the door gives me a moment of reprieve. Stephen glances over his shoulder, grumbles, then releases me. “Whoever it is, send them away and pack your bags. We’re going home. Now.”

I swallow the bile that rises in my throat, unsure what to do. I’m not going with him. It’s most certainly the ladies on the other side of the door, but I don’t want to risk one of them getting hurt. I can’t be sure what Stephen will do, but it’s never good.

“Hurry up, Finchley. Time is wasting, and your father is a busy man. We have a wedding to plan.” He releases me so I can answer my door.

I wipe stray strands of hair back into my ponytail, and head to the door. With a steadying breath, I open it to find Chantelle, Freya, Gwen, Ronnie, and Greer on the other side.

“What’s wrong?” are the first words Greer asks.

“Uh, I’m not feeling very well. I think I should stay home for now,” I say, my voice wavering on each word.

Freya tilts her head in confusion. “You don’t look sick. You look scared. Is everything all right?”

Stephen yanks the door all the way open and issues his million dollar smile. With all the charm of a seasoned gentleman—something he most assuredly is not—he offers his hand to the first woman willing to shake it. Ronnie blinks a few times and accepts, but her eyes never leave me.

“You must be Finchley’s friends. I’m Stephen, her fiancé. We were just heading out, but it was nice to meet you all.” He releases Ronnie’s hand with his dismissal and moves to shut the door in their faces.

Chantelle puts her foot out, stopping it. “We’d like to talk to Finchley if you don’t mind, then we’ll be on our way.”

Stephen’s jaw flexes but he manages to maintain his composure. “I’m afraid we’re on a tight schedule.”

“Mmm, yes, well you either let us talk to our friend or we call the police,” Chantelle says.

“Ladies, I don’t think it’s necessary to call the police on her fiancé,” Stephen says, his temper flaring. He’s barely holding it together. I need to step in, but I’m unsure what to do or say. Usually, I do what he says, follow him home, and wait for my next chance to escape. But now, I’m not so sure I want to play that game anymore.

“I’m not convinced she wants you here,” Greer says, forcing her way into my apartment. Stephen all but falls over when she shoves the door open, but he manages to catch his footing. The rest of the ladies enter, leaving him with very little choice.

“Do you want him here?” Chantelle asks.

I can barely manage to shake my head, nervous about what he might do. There are more of us, but Stephen doesn’t like to be told no. Early in our relationship, he was sweet and kind, always doing things for me to surprise me. It was all a game, something to pull me in while the real monster lay in wait.

“I think it’s time you leave,” Greer says, crossing her arms. “She doesn’t want you here, and I know for a fact you are not her fiancé.”

His nostrils flare but he doesn’t lash out. Instead, he looks at me and growls. “This isn’t over. We have an arrangement, and you know your end of the deal.” With little else, he scowls and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

“What was that about?” Greer asks.

“That was the ex who just doesn’t take no for an answer.” I’m shaking now as the adrenaline that kept me frozen starts to wane. I wander to my kitchen to get a drink of water, trying not to think about how incredibly embarrassing this situation is. It’s also how it always begins. I’ll be fired from the Dragons team in a matter of days, I know it.

“You should probably call the police,” Freya says, clutching her bag. Her eyes drift towards the door as if Stephen might return.

After taking a long drink, I set the glass down and head back into the living room. I lock the front door and press my hand to my forehead, searching for words to explain myself. “It won’t do any good to call the police. Stephen and my father have connections in high places in every major city across the country. Usually, this means it’s time to move on.”

“Move on?” Greer asks, her tone shifting toward accusatory really fast. “You just got here, not to mention Aiden—” She bites off her sentence, lips pursed and eyes flaming. “You’re going to leave?”

“I don’t want to, but Stephen can cause a lot of trouble.” Aiden’s face flashes in my mind. I do feel safer with him, always did. I sigh and drop my hand to my side. “I don’t know what to do, but no, I don’t want to go with him. I want to stay here. I want…” I fade and glance at Greer. “I want to be where Aiden is.”

“Then stay. Don’t run. Remember we’re here for you,” Freya says, reminding me that this is more than a job. I entered into a family. It might not be my family yet, but it is Aiden’s. And for his sake, they’ve taken me in at all costs. “Do you want us to call Aiden or one of the other guys?”

I shake my head and press my hand to my chest, working hard to calm down. “No, they’re busy. I don’t want to throw them off before such a big game. I’m all right. Mostly.”

“Look, I know what you need to help you calm down and focus,” Chantelle says. “Grab your purse and come with us.”

“Where are we going?” Greer asks, finally easing that tense little body of hers long enough to entertain Chantelle’s plan.

“Where do you think? The Dragon’s Lair, obviously.” Chantelle grins and heads to my door.

“What’s the Dragon’s Lair?” I ask, slipping my wallet into my back pocket.

“Let’s just say, it’s a place where you can legally beat the snot out of things and pretend they’re that jerk’s face.” Chantelle opens the door and we follow her out. I still don’t know where they’re taking me, but it has to be better than sitting around wondering what Stephen might do. He’ll tell my father where I am, for sure, but I’ll tackle that when it happens. Until then, I wander into the parking lot, checking for his car along the way.

Safe in Chantelle’s car, they explain to me what the Dragon’s Lair is. It’s a rage room where they and the team often go to relieve stress. It seems like the most perfect place in the world, and when we arrive, I am not disappointed. There are different sorts of rooms to choose from, but I can’t decide which will help me process my bubbling fear and anger.

I finally spy one that grabs me. It’s a “fine China” room that is actually filled with cheap knock offs of expensive porcelain wares. It reminds me of home, of how my father used to treat every single meal as a state event, and I was expected to behave perfectly. Fury rages from deep in my gut, and I tap the image of the room on the poster.

“That one, please,” I say.

The attendant gives me a pair of safety goggles and gloves, has me sign a waiver, instructs me on what I can and cannot do, then hands me a sledgehammer and a baseball bat before unlocking the door to the room. After ensuring I’ll be okay, the others wander to different rooms, leaving me to sort out my frustrations on my own. Shelves of floral printed plates line one wall while tables stacked high with teacups and glasses are scattered about the room.

I don’t know where to begin now that I’ve entered. Wandering toward a table, I accidentally bump another and an apology slips from my lips. There’s no one else in the room, and here I am apologizing for bumping into a table I’m meant to destroy. That same anger comes forth again, but all I can force myself to do is daintily tap a teacup from the table.

It crashes onto the floor and smashes into several pieces.

That little crash sets me free and before I know it, I’m smashing everything in sight. I drop the heavy sledgehammer in favor of the bat and take a massive swing at the shelves. Plates slide down and I whack them as they fall, sending broken shards flying in all directions. Chantelle’s suggestion that I picture Stephen’s face is effective, but I also envision my father and most of the male members of my extended family, all those who have treated the women in our lineage like dirt for far too long.

Slam after slam helps me to relieve the tension and years of anger from my body. I don’t cry. There’s no time for that with all of the anger broiling under my skin. I keep going until I can barely swing the bat any longer, then stomp things until the buzzer sounds, signaling that my hour is over. I can’t believe an hour has passed, but one glance around the room and it’s pretty clear that a madwoman had been set loose long enough to annihilate an entire room full of dishes.

In the hallway, the others wait patiently, trading stories of what they did in their respective rooms. When I emerge, they stop and smile.

“So, did the jerk face suffer for his atrocious attitude?” Chantelle asks.

I release a long breath and realize it did, in fact, help me to put my emotions in order. “Yeah. Thanks for bringing me here.” I glance at my watch and gasp at the time. “I need to pick my cousin up from the airport, but I really appreciate everything you’ve all done for me.”

Ronnie smiles and pushes her glasses up on her nose. “Any time. Let’s get you home so you can pick up your cousin. Are you bringing her to the game tonight?”

I nod, already prepared to throw April into the deep end. She gets along with everyone, so I have no doubt she’ll do just fine up in the lounge with the ladies. In fact, once my performance is over I plan on joining them. It seems like I’m settling in just fine. And even though Stephen’s arrival means I’ll probably have to deal with him and my father very soon, for the first time in my life, I feel like I can take them on and win.