“See, I’m kind of in a bind,” he tells the woman on his lap while playing with her thin dress strap. “My stupid grandma won’t give me my money, which is so unfair because it’smy money. Grandpa said so before he died.”
I bristle at his whiny tone. Aaron is a prototypical rich boy. I should know because I was surrounded by them growing up. Private-school types with trust funds and no sense of empathy. Most baseball players come from middle-class families, but every once in a while, you get a guy like Aaron who thinks he’s entitled to everything.
“Grandma put in a ridiculous condition that I need to be married by my twenty-fifth birthday for my trust to be released. Otherwise, I have to wait until forty. And the thing is, I had a girl—hook, line, and sinker.” His cruel laugh makes every muscle in my body tighten. “She was so gullible. A simple, small-town hick. I knew there’d be no problem getting her to sign a prenup, boxing her out of my inheritance, but then that all went down in flames.”
My vision grays at the edges as blinding-white fury surges through my bloodstream.
“That’s why I’m offering you a deal. I need a wife on paper, and with the time crunch, I’m not above paying you. I just can’t have you as part of my public life or my career. If you can be a very good girl and follow the rules”—Aaron’s hand smoothes over her shoulder and up her neck—“we could come to a financially lucrative agreement. But whatever I say goes, at all times.”
Bile crawls up my throat at his lecherous tone, and I almost dry heave.
“In the end, it’s a trade up for me.” He chuckles. “You’re much sexier than that boring, mousey—”
“Miss, stand up,” I command, stepping in front of them and pocketing my phone.
The woman jumps up, catching the outstretched hands of her friend.
A higher-functioning part of my brain is grateful that the women have shuffled to a safe distance because my baser instincts are dead set on making sure Aaron leaves this club with something broken, preferably multiple things. I grab Aaron by the collar of his designer shirt and shove him against the wall, drawing gasps from everyone around us.
“What the—” Aaron’s startled question breaks off in a curse when I slam him into the wall again.
“You don’t talk about Kenzie that way.” I spit the words in his tequila-scented face. “Do you hear me? The lies you told to the press were bad enough without you—”
“Bro, chill.” Aaron rolls his pretentious eyes at me. “This isn’t a big deal.”
“Isn’t a big deal?” My question is borderline hysterical.
“Trevor, take a breath.” Tenny’s words enter my subconscious, but I’m not done with Aaron.
“If I ever hear you speaking that way about Kenzie again, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Aaron sneers. “Give me a motivational speech about how to be a better person? I’m not scared of someone who doesn’t have the backbone to follow through. Face it, Chapman. You’re not the threat-making type.”
Lighter fluid careens through my veins because Aaron just unknowingly struck a match. I’m not usually the threatening type, but I have no problem protecting those I love. It’s just a side of my personality my teammates have never seen.
My fist rears back just as Tenny and Rhett flank me, grabbing my arms and pulling me away.
“No.” I struggle against my teammates’ firm grip. “He deserves it.”
Aaron’s smug smile feels like salt in a very deep wound, but then I see a flicker in his eyes as he straightens—fear. He covers it by tugging at his collar, gesturing to his ripped shirt.
“You’ll need to pay for that,” he tuts.
“Have your grandma pay for it,” I tell him, still fighting against Tenny and Rhett’s hold.
Indignation stains his cheeks. “Not everyone has a nice fat contract, Chapman. But don’t worry, once I’m done showing the owner that it’s time to shake things up, that donating to geriatric players is a waste of money, this organization will be much more streamlined.”
Tenny and Rhett barely contain me as I surge forward again. Aaron ducks to the side, snaking his arm around another woman’s waist.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says.
“That’s not even the woman you were talking to.”
“Does it matter? They’re all interchangeable.” Aaron’s arrogant face is so punchable it’s a shame my teammates spend as long in the weight room as I do.
“Now I want to punch him,” Tenny tells Rhett.
“Me too,” Rhett says through gritted teeth. “But it’s not worth our careers.”
