Bad Professor (An Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (119 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Kya

I
shook Jackson off in the
lobby and made my way through the casino alone. The fact that he had allowed,
actually pushed me into, a compromising photograph with Mario Peretti made me
feel ill. It was clear that everything Jackson did was to suit himself. That
was not how a true gentleman acted.

I rushed to the
elevators and up to the suite. I still was not clear on what had happened at
the golf luncheon, but now I had reason to doubt both sides. The truth had to
be somewhere in the middle. Unfortunately, Fenton was already gone.

"Is he going
to come back and change for the party?" I asked Sandi.

She stopped
setting out her makeup kit and looked up. "No, he's already changed."

"Are you
okay? What's the matter?" I dropped my purse on the couch, realizing she
was there to help me get ready for the party myself.

"I saw Fenton
and Kev a little while ago. Kev was really upset. He said that they got kicked
out of some snobby golf lunch. They accused Fenton of trying to pull off some
tacky publicity stunt."

"I think
there's a little more to it than that," I said. "It sounded to me
like they crashed the party and tried to start a fight with Jackson
McRay."

"He doesn't
sound like a nice man." Sandi turned back to her brushes and color
palettes. "They said he had that reality television star cornered."

"If you ask
me, I think Fenton acted like a jealous suitor. Maybe he'd rather go to the
promotion party with Sienna."

"Really, Kya,
how can you say that?"

I crossed my arms
over my chest. "I just can't help but get the feeling I'm being played.
Neither story adds up and neither Fenton or Jackson or even Kev will tell me
the whole truth."

"I don't want
to get into it, but Fenton didn't say a thing the entire time they were here.
Kev said he shuts down like that when someone doesn't believe him. Probably
happened to him a lot as a child. You didn't believe him and he can't defend
himself, so he has nothing to say," Sandi said.

"So instead
of telling me the truth and trying to convince me, Fenton's just going to give
me the silent treatment?" I asked. "Sounds like he's still acting
like a child."

"Don't you
want to believe him?" Sandi asked.

I flopped down in
the chair she had set out for me. "Yes. But that would mean Jackson McRay
was some kind of monster and Sienna was an innocent victim. Do you see why
that's hard to believe?"

Sandi gave a weak
smile. "Yes, but believing that means that Fenton stepped in to help her
even if it meant confronting Jackson and causing a huge scene. He's not the
type to stand aside for the sake of his reputation, and I think that makes him
heroic."

I held my hands
up. "Alright, I hear what you're saying. Let's just agree that all I know
for sure is that I need to get ready and head to the fight promotion
party."

Sandi patted my
shoulder and then got to work. Within the hour, I had my copper hair swept up,
my green eyes accented with perfect makeup, and the iridescent dress shimmering
every time I moved. She ushered me into the elevator.

"Let me
guess, it all changes back to normal at midnight," I said as I stepped
inside.

"Let's hope
so," Sandi said.

I headed into the
flashy party feeling like Cinderella for more reasons than just the dress. I
was still an outsider in Fenton's world and I half expected the doorman to send
me away.

"Hey,
beautiful. No hard feelings about earlier, right?" Mario Peretti appeared
trailing a large entourage.

"You mean
when you attacked me?" I asked.

"Just a kiss
between colleagues. Surely, that's happened to you before," Mario said.
"Besides your boyfriend did not seem to mind."

"Jackson
McRay is not my boyfriend," I said.

"Well,
obviously, I'm not the only one confused by that," Mario said. He nodded
in the direction of the bar.

Fenton leaned over
a limber, black-haired woman and drank a shot off her flat stomach. She sat up
and offered him a lime from between her overly plump lips.

"They've been
pretty friendly ever since I arrived. Maybe I picked the wrong photo op to make
our man jealous," Mario said.

I pushed past him,
much to the amusement of his entourage, and marched into Fenton's eye line. He
caught sight of me, and his blue eyes blazed. It was not the smoldering
appreciation I had imagined when I chose the dress. I forced myself to walk
straight over to him.

"We need to
talk," I said.

He turned back to
the bar and ordered another shot. A voluptuous blonde took position and smiled
at Fenton with bright red lips.

"Aren't you
going to say anything?" I asked. "Really? You're going with the
silent treatment? What if I say that I want to believe you? It was an awkward
situation. It seemed personal and I did not want to let something personal get
in the way of the business I have with Jackson. Come on, you don't have
anything to say about that?"

Fenton shrugged.
"Actions speak louder than words." He leaned down over the blonde's
bare midriff and savored the second shot. He made a big show out of sucking the
lime wedge from her fire engine red lips, but when he looked up, I was staring
over the top of them.

On the wall,
almost a story high, was a slideshow of Mario's rise to the top. Fenton's loss
was heavily featured and now I knew why he wanted to add a photograph of me.
The sharp cuts and close-ups of Fenton's first loss to Peretti were all
psychological warfare meant to shake his confidence. My picture would surface
soon enough.

"Well
hopefully reason speaks louder than photographs," I said. "I can
explain."

It was too late,
Fenton turned around just in time to see the wall-sized shot of Mario kissing
me full on the lips. My hands that had been raised to ward him off actually
looked like I was embracing him.

I grabbed his
shoulder. "Please, Fenton, you have to believe me."

"Like you
believed me?" he asked. He did not even glance at me. Fenton yanked his
shoulder away and strode across the dance floor to call Peretti out.

The crowd burst
into excited chatter and the music stopped. Fenton shoved him as soon as
Peretti turned around and for a moment it looked as if the fight would happen
right there on the dance floor. The crowd backed away and the two were left in a
wide circle.

I tried to push my
way in, but the crowd was too tight and too excited to move. Kev appeared at my
side and stopped me.

"Fenton knows
it was just a prank. It's all part of the show," Kev said.

"Are you
sure? I screwed everything up. What was I supposed to do?" I asked him.

"How about
conducting your business over the phone or email like every other agent?"
Kev asked.

Peretti puffed out
his chest and was strutting around Fenton getting the crowd riled up. Fenton
answered with a hard shove that deflated Peretti's chest. Security burst into
the circle to haul them both back. Instead of de-escalating the situation, the
fight promoter handed Peretti a microphone.

"A fighter's
got to keep a cool head and it seems Fenton Morris is ready to lose his again,"
Peretti said.

Half the crowd
cheered and half howled with rage.

"I know that
ladies love a man with self-control, with focus, with the ability to see things
through to the very end," Peretti said. He shook off the security guards
and roamed around half the circle, encouraging the crowd to choose sides.
"It’s not my fault if Fenton's woman wants the same thing."

I cringed when the
wall-sized photograph reappeared. Fenton fought off his security guards and got
right back into Peretti's face. Peretti held the microphone away, but the rough
tone of Fenton's voice made his message clear.

"You'll have
your turn," Peretti said, leaning back to speak into the microphone.
"And when you do, you better apologize to your woman. She's gotta be
unsatisfied if she came to me."

Fenton lunged and
knocked the microphone from Peretti's hand with a sharp slice of his hand. The
crowd cheered and the security guards swarmed the two fighters again. This
time, when they ebbed back, it was Fenton who had the microphone.

"Some people
become fighters because they think the lifestyle looks cool," he said.
"I didn't become a fighter, I was born fighting. I had to fight for
everything. I had to fight to keep my family together. I had to fight to keep
my sister safe at school. I had to fight to keep food on our table. What I
never did was fight to keep my focus. I wanted better from day one, and I'll be
damned if I let some strutting scum distract me from that."

The crowd heckled
him, egging him on, hoping for more trash talk or maybe another sneak preview
at the fight.

"I have no
reason to talk about Mario Peretti's skills as a fighter. I have no reason to
talk about Mario Peretti at all. He doesn't matter to me, the title does. I
know Vegas is confusing, there's hype all around. But I guarantee tomorrow,
Peretti's hype isn't going to follow him into the ring. It'll be just us, and
the better man will win."

"What about
your girl?"

"You just
gonna let him take your woman?"

"Come on,
Morris, you can't take that lying down!"

The crowd heckled
him more, and the wall-sized photograph of our kiss appeared again. Peretti
bounced around with his fists in the air then blew air kisses at the crowd.
Then, he directed the spotlight towards me.

Kev tried to help
me duck away from it, but the hot light blinded me. The crowd around me surged
back and then forward. Hands shoved me towards the open circle where Peretti
and Fenton waited. I lost grip of Kev's hands and was pushed along, helpless
until I was in the open.

Peretti bounced
over and reached out to embrace me. Without thinking, I batted away his hands
and spun to avoid him. The crowd went wild. The spotlight still blinded me, and
I tried to find Fenton. Suddenly, a strong arm locked around my waist. Peretti
was pushed far away.

"Only a weak
man would use a woman," Fenton said. "My reputation might be
tarnished, but nowhere in the long list of my misdemeanors and conflicts is
there an accusation of treating a woman badly.

I wrapped my arm
around Fenton's waist, glad for the solid feel of him in the sea of ogling
faces. "Actions speak louder than words," I said.

"Say it
again, darling," Fenton told me. He held the microphone in front of me.

"That
photograph was a dirty trick. Peretti's all trash talk and tricks. Actions
speak louder than words," I said.

Fenton's loyal
fans erupted in chants and applause. It felt good to stand arm in arm with
Fenton, even though I knew we had not yet come together.
 

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Kya

The
music started again, and before I could turn to Fenton, he was disappearing
into the crowd. He said something to a security guard in passing and the large
man helped me off the dance floor. I was deposited near the bar and decided it
was a good time for a drink.

"Order one
for me, too," Kev said. He leaned on the bar to peer into my face.
"You did alright on mic. I'm sure the fans wanted you to extol Fenton's
sexual prowess and call him a god, but, you know, what you said worked."

"Did Fenton
practice that speech?" I asked.

"The one
about his upbringing and focus or the one about how to treat women?" Kev
asked.

"Either,
both. Wait, have you heard them both from him before?" I asked. My hand
trembled as I picked up my drink.

"Fenton has
spoken out against domestic violence, but he normally doesn't talk about his
family life," Kev said.

I slumped into my
stool. "Thanks. That makes me feel a lot better."

"Come on,
Kya. It’s like I told you; it's all part of the show."

" I thought
you meant his reputation, not our relationship," I said.

"Well, they
might both have a ways to go. That doesn't mean you won't get there. Sandi
thinks you'll make it," Kev said.

"Excuse me,
Ms. Allen? I'm a reporter for the
Desert
Post
and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions," a slim
young man asked. He fidgeted foot to foot but looked me straight in the eye.

Kev handed him a
business card. "No problem, kid, as long as you send your article to me
before publishing. I'll vet the quotes, dot the Ts, that kind of thing."

The young man
smiled, unsure if Kev was serious or not. He took the card, and Kev shifted
over a bar stool to give him room.

"I'm sorry,
I'm not doing interviews if that's what you think this is," I said.

"Sure you
are," Kev said. "Just answer the kid's questions. It’s not hard and,
who knows, it might be good for Fenton."

"How long
have you known Fenton Morris?" he asked.

"A few
days," I said. It was hard to believe because it felt like much longer.

"Have you
always been attracted to 'bad boys?’? Or was it Fenton that approached
you."

"Fenton
approached me first." I took a long sip of my drink to cover my smile.

"And, do you
feel threatened by his womanizing ways, his drinking, or his violent
tendencies?" the young man asked. He was concentrating on holding his
phone at the right angle to record my answer and did not notice the look on my
face.

"Those are
all grossly exaggerated. Fenton Morris is a gentleman, an athlete, and a
professional. You've got him all wrong and if you try to pursue this
sensationalized direction any further, you will be getting close to
slander," I said.

"So, you're
saying everything the public knows about Fenton Morris is an act?"

"It’s a
natural extension of what his fans want," Aldous said. He towered over the
young reporter and frowned down at him. "As his long-time coach and
advisor, I can assure you that everything Ms. Allen has said is the
truth."

The reporter
wanted to ask more, but I turned to Aldous. "Is this your wife?"

Aldous stepped in
front of the reporter, effectively shutting him out from further conversation.
"Tia, I would like you to meet Kya Allen. Kya, this is my lovely wife,
Tia."

"It is so
nice to meet you, Kya. I've heard a lot about you," Tia said. She was
older, mid-forties, though it was impossible to tell from her flawless olive
skin and shining black hair.

"You've heard
about me?" I looked at Aldous. "I can't imagine what you must think
of me."

"I think we
have a lot in common," Tia said. She shooed Aldous over to talk with Kev
and sat down next to me. "Aldous and I met when I was around your age. He
was on the boxing circuit. I, believe it or not, was dating an accountant who
tried to save himself from being boring by going to boxing matches."

"I don't
think I can see Aldous having a wild streak, but I bet he was an amazing
boxer," I said.

"Yes, very
clean-cut and very fair. That's why he was never a fan favorite and also why
he's such a great coach," Tia said. "He's been with Fenton so many
years, they are starting to feel like family. So, when he mentioned that Fenton
wants to settle here in Vegas for a while, I was overjoyed."

"You wouldn't
mind moving?" I asked.

"Not at all.
If it means I see my husband every night instead of a few weeknights here and
there throughout the month," Tia said. "I should thank you for
putting the idea in Fenton's head."

"Oh, I'm not
sure it was me," I said. I looked across the room to where Fenton danced
with three women.

"Give
yourself some credit," Tia said. She patted my hand.

Even as I watched
Fenton draped with women, my heart was buoyed up by the thought that meeting me
had encouraged him to find a home base and try settling down. I clung to
thought and nurtured it into a small spark of hope.

I held on to it
all throughout the promotion party, even though Fenton never spoke to me. He
only glanced my way a few times. I waited until I saw him leave the nightclub
and then I took the very long way back to my suite at the Tropicana. My stomach
was in knots as I approached the door, only to discover it was worse than I had
imagined.

Fenton was gone.
The second bedroom was completely packed up and a maid was stripping the
sheets.

"Did he say
where he was going?" I asked.

She shook her
head. "But the porter said his stuff was going to the MGM Grand."

My hand was on the
door handle when there was a soft knock. I pulled the door open to discover
Sienna. It was shocking to see here without the blinding orbit of her
television camera crew. Instead, it was just her, the long blonde hair tied
back in a neat ponytail and her blue eyes soft without the heavy dose of
eyeliner.

"Is Fenton
here?" she asked.

My chest burned.
"No. He wants to be alone the night before a big fight," I said.

Sienna was not
surprised at the bite of jealousy in my words. "I just wanted to tell him
thank you. If you see him, will you let him know I said so?"

"Thank him
for what?" I asked. I squeezed my eyes shut and raised my face to the
ceiling. When I opened them, I looked back at Sienna. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I
get it. And it's not what you think. Just tell Fenton thank you," Sienna
said.

She looked so slim
and lonely as she headed back to the elevators. "What, no camera
crew?"

Sienna turned back
to me. "I took the afternoon off. I needed a little time to recoup – I
mean, relax."

"Well, if you
want to relax off camera, why don't you come in? Once the maid's gone, I'll
have an empty suite. There's a bottle of wine." I held the door open.

The reality star
hesitated, looked at the elevator, and then at the open suite door. "Sure,
why not. I could use a glass of wine."

The maid had
tidied the second bedroom until it looked as if no one had occupied it in
weeks. I kept looking at it as I opened the wine and almost spilled all over
the white rug.

"Here, let me
do that," Sienna said. She expertly handled the wine opener and had two
glasses poured in seconds. "I used to be a waitress; it’s a necessary
skill if I wanted good tips."

"You were a
waitress?" I asked. "I always assumed you had a trust fund or
something."

Sienna smiled.
"Exactly. That's what I want everyone to think." She slumped back on
the couch.

"It gets a
little tiring playing the part?" I asked.

"Yes. You get
it. You can't be a successful female sports agent without playing a certain
part," Sienna said. "Yours is good, subtle."

"Thanks, I
guess. Though, I think I'm going to drop the act." I sipped my wine.

"Me,
too," Sienna said. "I think it’s getting in the way of my
relationships. I mean, I can't really find anyone genuine if I'm not acting
like my genuine self."

"Is that how
you feel about Fenton?" I asked.

"Don't be
stupid," Sienna asked. "Our acts go perfectly together, but even that
ended up not working because he's so into you." She finished her glass of
wine and got up. "I think it’s about time I try out my obscenely huge
hotel room tub without the lighting guy adjusting the soap bubbles."

I walked her to
the door and waited until her elevator descended. Then, I grabbed my purse. I
had to see Fenton and the glass of wine had quieted down all my rational
objections just enough for me to go right away.

I made it all the
way through the lobby of the MGM Grand before I was stopped by Dana Maria.

"You can't be
bugging him the night before the title fight. He left the party early to be
alone," she said.

"Dana Maria,
I'm glad I ran into you. I've got to tell you I'm sorry we never hit it off. I
really admire you, even if I say all the wrong things," I said.

"Had a little
wine tonight, Kya?" she asked. Dana Maria adjusted her sequined tube top
and smiled at me.

"Just enough
to say things I mean."

"Good. Then,
you can tell me why you won't leave Fenton alone."

I wandered over to
lean against the glass wall of a souvenir shop. "I can't. I don't want to.
I don't know. All I think about is the last time I saw Fenton and the next time
I'll get to talk to him. I wonder how he's doing and if he ever thinks of
me."

"Oh, Jesus,
girl, you've got it bad," Dana Maria said. She pulled me away from the
wall and led me back out the front doors. "Now, let me tell you the
truth."

"Please. No,
wait, do I want to know? It’s bad, isn't it?"

Dana Maria shook
her head. "The truth is I like you. And, I like you with Fenton. I like
the way he looks when he talks about you, even when you've annoyed him."

I grabbed her
arms, smearing her body glitter. "Really? You're not just messing with
me?"

"And, what I
like most of all is that you do what is best for Fenton, even if he doesn't
like it. You kept on at him about the endorsement deal, even when it hurt your
chances with him. So, now you have to do what's best again. Leave him alone
until after the fight," Dana Maria said.

"But he's mad
at me. I didn't believe him when I should have," I said.

She stopped me
from going back inside. "It's good. Let him be mad. He always fights
better with a little anger."

Dana Maria put me
in a cab and sent me back to the Tropicana. I practically danced all the way
back to the suite, even though it was empty. When I woke up in the morning, the
quiet was strange, but I was excited. It was the day of the title fight and I
was going to see Fenton.

There was a knock
at the door and my heart leapt. I tried to calm myself down but the wild hope
that it could be Fenton made it hard to breathe. I rushed to the door, only to
feel a cold rush crash over me.

Jackson McRay
leaned on the doorframe. "I was hoping to catch you alone, Kya."