I savor the feeling of Andrea in my embrace. This is the first time I’ve brought her here, to my home. I try not to disturb her and quietly take in the sight of her swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Emotions batter through me.

The biggest one is rage.

My blood is pumping hard, and I’m so fucking ready to give Cade a visit. I’m in primal mode now, protective. He’s going to pay for this.

Andrea stirs and blinks up at me with sleep-foggy eyes. “Oh, hi. Did you sleep any?”

I don’t want to tell her that I spent most of the night awake, both worried about her and stewing over what I’m going to do about this situation. I’ve already showered and dressed for the day. I give her a generic nod so as not to worry her. “You want some coffee or you wanna go back to sleep?”

She sits up. Her hair is mussed, and she has no makeup on, and I’m pretty sure she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. “I’m up. Coffee would be great.”

I struggle to rein in my emotions as I go about my actions. I don’t want to alarm her or put her on edge. I make us two cups and bring one to her.

She smells it and gives me a small, grateful smile. Sips. “Mm, just the way I like it.”

“Two creams and a bunch of sugar.” I sit down beside her and stroke her hair. “How are you doing?”

Her smile wobbles but she rallies and says, “Oh, I’m fine. I…I’m sorry. I just, I didn’t know what to do and—”

“No, no apologies,” I interrupt. “You did the right thing.” I take a big gulp of my coffee. It’s hot, but I need to finish it. I have somewhere to be. “I have a few errands to run, and I want you to stay here. You have full disposal of my place.”

She shakes her head. “Oh, no, I can just go back to my apartment. I’m sure he won’t be coming over there.”

I’m certain he won’t. “Andrea,” I say steadily. “Stay here. The chef is coming by in a half hour to make breakfast. Take a shower or bath and relax. I have a robe hanging on the door for you to use. I won’t be gone too long, I promise.” I stand up and kiss her brow.

“But…” she hedges. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a burden.”

This woman looks at me and doesn’t see all my money or just my fame. She sees beneath the surface. Sometimes even more than I want her to. I’m not a meal ticket to her. I’m a man. And right now, I want to take care of her. “You’re not a burden. Drive that thought right out of your head.”

She bites her lip and nods, looking away.

“When I’m done, we’ll swing by your apartment so you can change and freshen up. Then we’re going to come back here and do whatever you want.”

Her gaze dances over to mine. “Maybe we can just cuddle on the couch and watch movies? Eat a pizza and have some wine?”

When’s the last time I chilled? I’ve been working so hard, so long, that I’ve almost forgotten how it feels to relax. “That sounds perfect.” I squeeze her fingers. The anger I felt had bled away while we were talking, but now that I’m ready to leave, it’s back. Filling me with motivation, with justice.

I grab the keys to my Maserati and exit the suite, jaw tight, mind resolute.

The drive to the gym doesn’t take as long as I thought. I took it upon myself to find out where Cade would be today. He’ll be doing indoor batting practice in an hour. I’m sure he’s stoked about an opportunity to show off to anyone who’s there.

It takes all my effort to keep my grip on the steering wheel loose. I want to clench it. Actually, I want to rip it out and throw it in Cade’s face. My jaw is so tight I’m practically chewing my teeth.

Motherfucker.

He dares to come to Andrea’s place at night and threaten her? And slander her? The cocksucker is going to regret everything he said and did last night. I fucking knew he was trouble, but I never envisioned he’d do something so shitty. Well, I hoped he wouldn’t.

The guy is too greasy with that slick, I’m-so-innocent-and-sweet attitude.

I find a valet and stalk into the gym. It smells like home, and I’m briefly reminded of the many hours I spent training here, listening to the sounds of other athletes pushing themselves to be the best. I head right back to the batting cage area, where I know Cade will be.

My body is tight with anticipation, a live coiled wire ready to explode from all the tension in me. I stand with my back against the far wall, just waiting.

After about ten minutes, the man of the hour comes strolling through the door, laughing with other athletes. The room starts to get crowded, but right now, I don’t care. My attention is homed solely on Cade.

He sees me standing there and his step falters for a moment. Then he recovers and lifts his chin, striding over to me. “Hey, Ryker,” he says in a jovial tone. Is he thinking I don’t know what the fuck happened? Or does he think I won’t do anything because he’s my most important client right now? Both options just enrage me even more. “Thanks for showing up. I—”

I punch him square in the nose. Blood gushes out instantly, and he hollers and cups his bleeding face.

“What the fuck?” he spits out, blood spattering everywhere. His eyes are furious. “Are you fucking insane?”

In my peripheral, I see people holding phones up and snapping pictures, but I’m beyond caring. My vision is red, and I’m embracing all the rage I’ve felt for months now. At Damon, and the powerlessness, at the unfairness of my situation. At this man who thought he would walk in here and hurt Andrea. The sheer entitlement.

Too long I’ve spent kissing ass with these guys.

Fuck that.

He drops his hands and swings at me, and I sock him in the gut. He grunts hard and bends over, then straightens and hits my jaw. I shake off the flash of pain and let fury numb me.

Fists are flying. “You made a big mistake,” I pant as I swing at him. I want to take him down. “Fucked up last night.”

“The whore is lying—” He can’t continue because I hit him so hard in the mouth that I hear a crunching sound. More blood pours out, and he spits out a tooth. Now he’s rightly mad. Oh, good. I want him to bring it on. I’m aching for this fight.

I double my efforts and slam into him repeatedly, shove him against the wall and punch. I’m nothing more than fists and rage. Cade tries to fight me back, but I’m stronger and angrier, and like a bull on steroids.

He slumps against the wall, then drops to the floor, and I step back. Spit in disgust at his feet and wipe my sleeve across my sweat-and-blood-spattered face. “You ever come near her again and I’ll end you.”

Cade doesn’t look at me. His eyes are both swollen shut, and he’s bleeding profusely. Piece of shit.

I shove through the crowd and stalk out of the gym, not looking at anyone else or listening to the shit they’re saying. Then I get in my car and I drive to work to clean myself up before going home to see Andrea.

* * *

I spend the rest of the evening holed up in my apartment. I don’t check my phone. I don’t check the news. I eat pizza with Andrea and relax. Because on my way home from beating the crap out of Cade, I realize the full impact of my actions. This might cost me everything.

And frankly, I’m not ready to face that. So I hermit myself away.

Sunday though, I drop Andrea at her apartment and then I head to work to see what the full damage is.

No one else is in the office except Marietta, who is catching up on paperwork. When she sees me, she shakes her head. “Boy, you did it this time, didn’t you.” I can hear the disappointment and confusion in her voice. “My Google alerts for the company blew up this morning. What the hell happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say and go into my office, closing the door.

But she follows me and opens it anyway, stepping inside. I narrow my eyes at her. “Don’t you scowl at me, Ryker. I’ve been with you since the beginning, and I’ve done everything I can to help you. But you stepped in it this time, and you need to tell me what the plan is so I can adjust accordingly. We have a lot of damage control we’re going to have to do to save this wreck.”

I sit down and open my laptop and access my email inbox. It’s filled. My stomach lurches. I’m dreading what I’m going to read.

“Ryker,” she says. “Have you seen the videos?”

“No,” I spit out. “I was there. I don’t need to see them.”

“Why?” she presses. “Why did you do it? Was it something to do with Andrea?”

I can’t fully explain, because to do so means revealing that I’ve been sleeping with Andrea, and I don’t want to break her confidence. Though, knowing Marietta, she’s probably already figured it out. “Cade was out of line and I put him back in line.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well done, boss. How about you go check out what the press is saying about you before you swagger in here like a macho man?” She turns around and closes the door behind her a little harder than necessary.

Fantastic. I’ve pissed her off too, it seems. Nothing like setting fire to my entire life.

I grab my bottle of bourbon, pour a healthy cup full, and first hop online to see the videos.

They’re worse than I thought. Everywhere, all the news circuits are buzzing about it. Not just the sports stations, but regional TV stations too. Articles all over the internet talking about how I’ve finally snapped.

I’ve seen enough.

My email is just as grim. Unsurprisingly, there’s a message from Cade’s lawyers saying he’s pulled out of the contract and will be filing a police report against me. Fuck. Three of my senior agents sent emails saying they were resigning, effective immediately. Numerous clients also have pulled out of their contracts with curt messages. Reporters from everywhere are hounding me for interviews.

I close my laptop, unable to deal with any more news right now, and drink, and I wonder if this is the end.

* * *

As the days pass, it isn’t the end. It gets worse. Cade signed with Van Aken, our biggest agency competitor in football and baseball. The news is gushing about the endorsements they’ve lined up for Cade, whom everyone sees as a victim. Of course they do. Because they don’t know what he did.

And Andrea refuses to tell, despite the fact that she too is being hounded by the media constantly. She hides in her office and tries to deal with the mess. I want to comfort her and say it’ll be okay, but I know it won’t be. The company is in a total death spiral.

All but four of my agents, including Andrea, have quit, and we have barebones clients left—mostly foreigners who haven’t read the American news. At least not yet.

I haven’t slept but a couple of hours each night. All I do is stare at the ceiling and wonder how to fix this shit hole I got us into. Cade was a dick—and still is—but it’s clear that beating him up was not a good idea. Especially not in front of the media.

I fucked this up royally.

And there’s only one way I can fix things.

I type up an email to the remaining agents and ask them to meet me in the conference room in a half hour. I go to my bathroom and fix myself. I’m a fucking mess. When is the last time I shaved? I take my time and lather my face, shave, put on a fresh shirt and tie. Take a final glimpse at the man I’ve been for the past seven years.

Then I head to the conference room.

Andrea, Brian, Chris, and Danny are there, spread out at the massive table. This room used to be filled when I called agent meetings. Now it’s sparse.

I stand at the end of the table. Don’t make eye contact with Andrea. “I’m stepping down from The Baldwin Corporation,” I say bluntly.

“What?” she blurts out. “But…”

“It’s the best decision for the company to have any chance of recuperating. Brian and Chris, since you have part ownership, I will sell you my remaining portion. Otherwise, I’m going to offer it up elsewhere.”

“Fuck,” Chris says, raking a hand through his hair. “I…I think that’s for the best though.”

Brian nods, not saying anything.

“I’m leaving, effective immediately. Marietta will remain with the company if she wishes to. She’ll be a useful asset for you guys as you transition. Our company lawyers can assist with whatever is needed.” I swallow. I want to apologize for failing them, for bringing us to this spot. But what can I say? Words are meaningless.

I turn and leave the room.

Footsteps run after me, and Andrea’s grabbing my arm. “Ryker, you can’t do this. This is your company. You put everything into it. Don’t…” Tears fly to her eyes. “Don’t quit. We can turn it around.”

I remove her hand from my arm. My emotions are shut down and I feel like a shell. I don’t know what to do other than pull away right now. I shake my head. “It’s done, Andrea. Go back to work.” I walk away from her, and she doesn’t follow me.

I call Marietta into my office and explain the situation. She rallies quickly and promises to do what she can to aid in the transition.

Then I pack up the few personal belongings I have and I exit my company.

* * *

I ignore all phone calls. Don’t check my email. I’m so numb on the inside. Haven’t felt like this since I was eight. This is what happened because of me having feelings for Andrea. I lost myself, lost my cool, lost my head. And I fucked everyone over because of it. Because I don’t know how to be a functional human being.

She’s better off without me. They all are.

Granddad comes by for a visit—apparently, they got worried when they saw the news about the fight, me quitting the company, and then not answering any messages. I want to feel comforted that they care, but the disconnect is there with them too.

I feel a million miles away from everyone.

And worse, I can still fucking feel Andrea all over my home. She was here just a short time, but she’s imprinted all over. I can see her curled up under a blanket on my couch. Lying on my bed with her hair spilled over a pillow. Laughing so hard that she snorts. The way she breathes when she sleeps.

How her hand would reach out to me almost like she wasn’t even aware of it.

I told her she could trust me, and I was wrong. No one can. Because I can’t even fucking trust myself.