Wild Side (Rose Hill, #3)(65)
Shock renders me speechless. Baby face means he wants to make me the “good guy,” and turning Will heel means “full bad guy.” Personally, I prefer to straddle the middle line, but it’s not looking like I’m being given that option. My body coils tight as I glare back at my boss. “I’m not doing this.”
He shrugs. “You’re under contract, and you gave verbal agreement. You’re too honest to say you didn’t.”
A feeling of helplessness surges through me. It takes me back to my childhood. Moved around. Assigned to new families. Choices being made about my life when I had no say in them. My power stripped.
Words fail me as my throat constricts. Years spent working for this company. The travel, the lost sleep, the injuries, the exhaustion, the loneliness. And this is where it gets me.
“Elle had no problem with the creative direction, so it’s time for you to swallow your pride and get on board.”
I scoff. “Of course she didn’t.”
I’ve been beating off her advances behind the scenes for the better part of the last two years. She’s a prime example of someone who knows exactly what she wants from me—a partner in the company to create a wrestling legacy with. To be attached to the highest paid and arguably most popular wrestler on the roster. Maybe we’re a match that way. But I could not be less attracted to her.
Most of all, I don’t trust her, which might be the biggest turnoff of all. She knows nothing about me, so I can’t for the life of me understand why she pursues me beyond superficial reasons.
It’s shit like this that’s kept me single.
It’s shit like this that makes me think of Tabitha. Strange as it may seem, I trust her. And this entire situation makes my chest ache with missing her.
She’d have an earful to give Anthony right about now. She’d go to bat for me.
Where Elle knows I’m going to hate this and is eager to do it anyway.
“Monday night, you’ll open the show, and while you’re talking, Jake and Axel will jump you from behind. You’ll start off strong, and then it will go downhill quickly. Elle is going to come out with a chair and save the day. At the end, you’ll do something affectionate and let her lead you back out. Do you need to get your wife’s permission or something?” He sneers the last line.
My jaw works. If I wasn’t so angry, I’d laugh. Because this is laughably stupid. They’ve never given me a romance storyline, and I have been abundantly clear that I don’t want one. For personal reasons and because it makes little sense with my reclusive mountain man character.
It’s then that my phone lights up and my new background, the selfie that Tabitha snapped wearing my mask, glows back at me. A text notification from her sits just beneath.
The light draws Anthony’s attention. “Tabby? She’s cute.”
Something inside me snarls at him for using her nickname. It feels too personal, and I don’t like it one bit. “Her name is Tabitha, not that you need to know. Because you? You’re going to keep my wife’s name out of your fucking mouth.”
My boss raises his eyebrows at me, as though both amused and surprised to be on the receiving end of my fury.
“I’m weeks away from reclaiming my title at the biggest event of the year, and you want me to get rescued by my fake girlfriend after two B-list goons attack me?” The word fake feels more accurate on my lips than it ever felt when referring to Tabitha.
“We’re going with wife. You guys eloped. A secret love. A rush to the altar before Will could stop it. That’s the story. So remember to wear the ring.”
The knife he lodged in my gut twists. “That’s fucking ridiculous! The audience will never buy that.” My temper flares, and so does Anthony’s.
He shoots to standing, fist slamming on his desk. He’s known to be an asshole and a yeller, but I’ve been spared his fits. Until now.
“You listen to me, boy! And you listen good. You’re going to make them buy it! I’ve given you free rein and far too much say. That ends now. You’re going to fall in line, just like every other wrestler in this company. Get that god complex under control, and stop referring to this as your title.” My tongue presses into my cheek, and I glance away from his beady blue eyes. I’m too furious to even look at him.
His fist slams again. “Look at me, Rhys! This title is mine! Everything in this building is mine! I built this company. This business. And you are lucky I take your ass along on the ride with me. Now get out of here, and go find some fucking gratitude.”
My mouth is dry, and my throat feels like it might turn inside out. I’ve never considered Anthony a friend, but I’ve respected him in my own way. We’ve worked well together.
But this? Today? It makes my stomach turn. It’s tossed me back in time in an unexpected way—having to be grateful for whatever scraps I’ve been given. Maybe I’ve overstepped, but having my control stripped like this?
He’s gone too far.
I have nothing left to say, so I turn rigidly and stride out of the asshole’s office.
Will waits outside, his handsome face twisted in a chagrined grimace, blond curls sweat-slicked against his forehead after a hard workout. “Boss… Fuck, man, I’m sorry.”
Clearly, he heard the conversation. Will might come off as an airheaded tool in the ring, but he’s not that guy. He knows he’s about to lose his belt, and no matter how fake this gig might be, it easily starts to feel real. Losing a fake championship doesn’t feel fake at all. It hurts and comes with a heavy dose of humility.