Fighting Fate

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

Her manager listened and then left her alone, without calling the cops, to talk to the people in the suite. The frown he wore on his return couldn’t be a good sign. He came to sit at her side on the couch, without meeting her eye.

“Are the cops on their way?” she asked.

“Ivy,” he said. “I saw what you did to him.”

“In defense of myself! I don’t care about him, I was assaulted!”

“They say nothing happened you didn’t instigate; that it was you who got rough with him.”

“That’s crazy! That’s a lie!”

“That may be, or not, but he says he’s going to the police.”

“He’s not going to the police,” she scoffed. “Did you see the drugs up there? Guys like him don’t go to the police for retribution.”

“All the more reason you shouldn’t visit that on yourself,” her manager said, examining her and the concealing towel over her chest. “You took those drugs yourself, and you stink of alcohol. Who would you believe, Ivy? He’s a good customer. He comes back a couple of times a year and spends a fortune. We all answer to someone, and my supervisor wouldn’t—”

“What? Who cares about money? I wasn’t partying, he did this to me! I demand that you call the cops!”

“He says he’ll press charges against you, and sue the hotel, unless…”

“Unless what?”

“I’m sorry, Ivy. You’re fired.”

“What?”

How the hell could he be taking the p*****t’s side instead of hers?

“It’s his word against yours, and I’m sorry but a man with that kind of influence and charisma… You’ve only been here for a month. Take my advice, don’t pursue this, go home and forget about it.”

“Forget?”

“No one will believe—”

“Not after my boss fires me and takes that bastard’s side,” Ivy said, standing up, tossing the towel at him. “You’re as bad as him! f*****g men!”

Marching away, she cleared out her small locker of her jacket and purse. Talk about the night from hell. Unless she got another job pronto, she’d struggle to make rent. Least things couldn’t get any worse.

Getting out of there, fast, was her first goal. Shoving out of the staff exit into the alleyway, she started thinking about where could be hiring.

“You should be more careful.”

She stopped. The disembodied voice came from the other side of the alley. As she peered through the darkness, a figure emerged from the shadows.

The black-haired man.

The one Trystan called Dax.

“You should take your own advice, stranger. Hanging around in dark alleys to beat on single women could get you in trouble.”

“If I was here to beat on you, you wouldn’t have seen me coming.”

“Said the voice of experience,” she said, folding her arms. “Are you proud of tonight?”

“Heard you got yourself fired.”

“No, your buddy got me fired. He’s a bully with an overinflated sense of entitlement. One day he’ll get what’s coming to him.”

“Not while I’m around to stand in the way,” he said. “You should watch yourself. You pissed off a very influential guy tonight.”

“So I’ve already been told,” she muttered.

“Mr. Stark doesn’t like to be disrespected, and he’s been known to hold a grudge.”

“Doesn’t have anything better to do?”

“You better hope he finds something. If he gets tonight stuck in his craw, you’re gonna be a very sorry little girl.”

“I can take care of myself.”

She turned to go, but he got in her way. “Not against me. You’d have no defense if I came for you.”

“I see that gratuitous ego syndrome is contagious, or at least common in your circle of friends. Just how close are you and your buddy?” She pouted. “Does someone have a little crush?”

His intimidating height came closer. Despite the wall at her back, she didn’t shrink in the shadow he cast over her.

“Do you think you’re a tough girl?” he asked. “You have no idea what you did tonight; no idea what I’m capable of. Never piss off a man with no conscience.”

“Is that why your buddy Trystan keeps you around?” she said. “I don’t know who you are or your connection to each other. But threatening me won’t win you points with him. If you’re hoping this little intervention will get you between his sheets—”

“You don’t know when to quit,” he sneered, bearing down on her. “You couldn’t keep your eyes off me tonight. Is that why you’re obsessing about my bedroom?”

“Obsessing—”

Urging her back to the wall, he blocked her in with his forearms on either side of her head. “Is that why you fought Tryst so hard? Were you disappointed I wasn’t the man above you?”

With what little space she had, she managed to bring her hand across his face in a half-force slap. His lip curled to betray perverted satisfaction.

Jerking forward, he snatched her hands and slammed them to the concrete at her back. “You want to get physical with me, Minx, you better be damn sure about it.”

“Get off of me,” she protested, trying to wrench herself free.

“Mr. Stark likes a show,” he said, her feeble struggling doing nothing. “Should I take you back upstairs and show him how compliant you are when you’re getting what you want?”

“What I want is for you to let me go,” she spat.

“You’re lucky you’re not my type.”

“Oh yeah? And who is? The only women you probably get near are the unconscious ones your buddy is through with after about thirty-five seconds.”

“Women like you deserve every damn thing they get,” he said, pressing himself against her, making no secret of his arousal that imprinted itself on her belly.

The disgust upstairs at Trystan’s violation wasn’t replicated with this guy. He should repulse her… yet the verbal sparring and earlier’s lingering glances provoked her curious hormones, sending them into overdrive. Angry and intimidated? Yeah, maybe. But afraid? No.

Long ago she’d learned how to quash ineffectual fear and channel useful adrenaline into fight rather than flight. Bullies only won if victims lost their wits, and she never would, not again.

“And men like you eventually lose their power. When your physical strength fades, you’ll be left with nothing. That vulnerability will ruin you, you’ll self-destruct.”

“Said the voice of experience,” he said, then shoved away. “Think twice before you insult people more important than you.”

“Thanks for the advice,” she said without concealing her disdain.

“You better hope you never hear of the Starks again. If Trystan decides to come after you, to punish you, nothing’ll save you.”

“Like I said, I can take care of myself.”

“Hope so, because on my side of the fence, there’s no mercy.”

“I’m shaking with fear,” she said with no sincerity.

“You will be.”

The liquid ocean of his eyes coated her figure, sending a shiver through her. He turned and stalked away. A few seconds later, he was out of sight.

Men rarely intrigued her anymore, not in the way Dax had. The fantasy of mystery surrounding him would never live up to the reality. Nothing ever did. Just the company he kept was evidence enough he wasn’t sane or reliable. At twenty-nine, she was too old for adventures of the heart with bad boys. For a while, that had been her life. The sheen came off the adolescent illusion of romance a long time ago.

Facing her roommate wasn’t going to be fun. If she could skip it, she would. Unfortunately, it was unavoidable. Their one-bedroom apartment was in a rough area not too far from The Strip. It smelled of mold and sweat. The windows were covered with lengths of material pinned to the wall in their corners. It had been the same since she’d moved in. The rent was cheap, and the neighbors kept to themselves. The streets were filled with gangs, and hookers, and drugs, sure, but she was used to it.

The tension of the day expelled from her lungs as she sank onto the couch.

Trudi bounced out of the doorless bedroom, hooking a shoe onto her foot. “That was quick,” she said. “How’d you get home so fast?”

Her head dropped onto the back of the couch. “I got fired,” Ivy said, spreading her hands.

“Oh, s**t,” Trudi said. “You wanna take a shower and come out with me?”

“No.”

“I know a guy who’ll look after you.”

“How many times have I told you not to tie yourself to a pimp?”

“You don’t know what it’s like out there,” Trudi said. “It’s dangerous these days.”

“I know it’s dangerous,” Ivy said. “But you don’t need anyone taking your money away from you.”

“Not now that my roommate has lost her job. You think you can live straight, but you can’t. It’s no way as easy as that. You held onto that job for a month; the one before that was two weeks. You’ve lived here nine months, and you’ve never had a job for more than two months.”

“Not your problem,” Ivy said. “I’ve never missed rent, have I?”

“We’re in Vegas. Girls like us, from the streets, we make money one way. You’re no better than the rest of us, Ivy. I know you try to stay legit, but…”

“I am not walking the street, Trud. Things haven’t got that bad.”

“Maybe not yet,” Trudi said, scooping condoms out of the drawer under the coffee table. “You know where I’ll be if you change your mind.”

Trudi was a pretty girl who’d made some bad life choices. Her drug habit was moderated by the various men who came and went from her life. Despite her chaotic existence, Trudi was upbeat and was already singing as she headed out the door. How could the beauty be so happy going out to sell her body?

In her own life, Ivy had travelled from city to city and done just about every job there was. Streetwalking was a last resort she’d managed to avoid so far.

Just once she’d like to catch a break. Her private concierge role at the GoldSpring had been a great job with great tips. Without it, she was back to square one. She didn’t need fame and fortune; she just wanted to belong, to know that she would be okay and that she wasn’t alone. That dream got more distant every day.