Page 50 of Sweet Addiction
“Explain.” I keep my answer short because I don’t want to feel anything for this man, and the frustration in his tone is already slithering under my skin, tempting me to feel something I’m not willing to feel.
“There was a big push by the league about a year ago for fighters to clean up their images. Some stuff went down that Ihad no part of, but it affected me and every fighter that fights professionally. At the time, my image wasn’t the worst. But it wasn’t the best either. It took me a long time to be taken seriously, and Liv pointed out that if I didn’t clean my shit up, I never would be. So I did what I always do.”
“And what’s that?” I hold my fork in my hand but don’t touch my food as my stomach sours. “What do you always do?”
“I dealt with it and moved the fuck on. No one has heard a fucking peep from me for months.” He leans back in his chair and stares at me. “Until Liv walked into Hudson’s office last week, three fucking days after I was offered a title fight, and told me rumblings of a potential sex tape are circulating. It hasn’t been released yet.”
My heart sinks.
I have no idea why. I have no doubt Rome’s been with women since our night together. But I’ve tried not to think about that. At least not until now, when I’m living with him, sharing his stupidly big bed, and apparently helping him avoid the consequences of a sex tape.
“So what? You were stupid enough to make a sex tape, and now someone wants to blackmail you with it?” I drop my fork and push my plate away. “How does that make you feel, psycho?”
“Like you’re just like everyone else who believed the lie without an ounce of proof provided, princess.”
Shit.
He’s right.
I did.
“It’s not real. And if it is, it’s not me in it,” he growls, and goosebumps break out over my skin.
I drag my teeth over my lip, hating that I want to believe him. “Why should I believe you? And how do you know it is or isn’t real if you haven’t seen it?”
“No one has seen it, but there’s a screenshot, and it’s time-stamped. It’s not me. It can’t be because I wasn’t with anyone back then. But like you just proved, no one is going to believe that without an alibi. That’s where you come in.”
“Right,” I say slowly, things beginning to click into place. “Because I was with you that night, and if they try to say the time stamp was off, they’re doing to need to believe I was with youeverynight.”
“Because we’re disgustingly in love, princess.” The deep tenor of his voice changes, thickens, as it wraps around me, and I wonder if we would have been here for real if things had been different.
I push my chair back and stand.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to think,” I admit.
I feel his eyes on me as I walk away and up the stairs, but he doesn’t say anything else until I come back down with my sneakers on and a wool hat in my hands. “What are you up to, Dillan?”
“I run when I think.” I pop one earbud in. “I’ll be back in a few miles.”
He’s up and out of his chair, grabbing my other hand before I can get the second earbud in. “There are no streetlights or sidewalks in this neighborhood, and it’s snowed on and off for days, Dillan. Just use the damn treadmill in the basement.”
Stepping back, I tug my hand away and pop the earbud in. “No.”
My phone connects, and the first staccato lines of Paris Palmona’s “LABOUR” are sung in my ears, firing me up. Reminding me I’m stronger than I think I am.
I walk out of the house and stretch my arms and legs, paying special attention to my shins that love to tighten up in the cold weather. When I was young, social media was cruel, and myfamily has always been a target. Even if I wasn’t chubby back then, standing next to my sister, I looked it. Running became my saving grace. My sanity. How I worked it all out and quieted the noise. It also helped me feel better about my body, and there haven’t been many things I can say have helped with that.
Three miles go by in the blink of an eye. My muscles warm as my legs pound the street beneath my feet. Every step taking me farther from Rome and my warring emotions. I hate that I believe him, but I do believe him. That’s not him on the sex tape. At least not willingly, it isn’t. If someone did something without his knowledge is another question to discuss. But either way, the thing is time-stamped, and he says he wasn’t with anyone that night.
And I believe him.
Which ironically means my job is to help protect the devil I know.
The same as Cassia and Radix.
I guess if I can put my heroine through it and have her come out stronger afterward, I can do the same. The only difference is I will never fall in love with Rome Beneventi. I might be a hopeless romantic, but I’m not a masochist.
