Page 321 of Playing the Pucking Game
His laughter bounces around the room.
I haven’t heard anything from Esme since I put my complaint in about his behavior, but I trust she’s doing her thing behind the scenes and that something will happen soon.
Worst case, he’ll be pulled in for a disciplinary for his behavior and then sent back to work. He’ll know immediately who put the complaint in, and I can only imagine how things will be between us after that. But then, there is the other option…
If others come forward, if there is more evidence than just my word, maybe, just maybe, there could be a successful outcome.
None of the guys like him. If they’re spoken to, none of them will have a good word to say. But will that be enough?
My fists curl. The desire to spin around and throw one into his ugly face is almost too much to bear.
My chest heaves as anger like I’ve never experienced before erupts inside me.
“Don’t tell me—Storm isn’t the first or the only one you’re fucking.”
Unable to keep my back to him any longer, I spin around.
A gasp falls from my lips when I discover just how close he’s standing.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I snap.
The laugh he barks out sends ice rushing through me.
This man is fucking unhinged.
I have been nothing but professional since my very first day here. But that doesn’t matter. Not to a misogynist asshole like him. The second he discovered I don’t have a penis hanging between my legs, he hated me. Nothing else mattered.
“Sure I do. I’ve been dealing with women like you my whole life. You think you can open your legs and it’ll get you wherever you want to be.”
“Is that why almost every member of the team here wants to be treated by me and not you?” I sneer. I shouldn’t bait him, but I can’t help myself. As much as I want to stand here and take it in the hope someone is listening, it’s just not in my nature to shut up while someone disrespects me like this.
He scoffs. “They don’t give a fuck about their treatment. They just want you.”
“Bullshit. Not a single one of the team has ever been disrespectful to me. You are the only one with a problem. What’s wrong, Mitchell? Jealous that I’m a better trainer than you’ll ever be? That athletes actually feel a difference after working with me?”
“You fucking bitch,” he roars, his face tomato red as he grabs my arm and throws me against the wall.
My shoulder screams in pain, but I don’t cower. I will never cower to this asshole.
“Fuck you,” I spit as he moves closer again. “I will not back down when I know I’m right.”
Mitchell suddenly releases me, but his grip was so tight that I lose my balance and go crashing down.
There’s some commotion, but I can’t latch onto anything before my head collides with the floor.
“Oh fuck,” someone bellows.
“Storm, no,” someone else cries.
“Get her on the table,” someone barks.
I hear it all happen, but it’s almost like a dream.
Suddenly, I’m weightless as warm, strong arms wrap around me.
“I’m okay,” I mumble, or at least I think I do. My body doesn’t feel like my own.
There’s more shouting, more arguing.
