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you behind Morrison. Deal with it. Besides, he knows that you’ll probably just kill me anyway.” Her voice shakes at the last moment, and she closes her mouth, refusing to let Morrison see how scared she is.
     
    “You really do have a high opinion of him, don’t you? The honorable Grayson Fletcher! It’s sweet really how loyal you are to him, even if it is completely misplaced.” He pushes himself up from the table and walks towards her slowly, deliberately, goon in tow. She keeps herself as rigid as she can, telling herself to stand tall and proud. It’s something that’s surprisingly hard to do with her hands tied to a water pipe. “You’re just like all the others, Adriana, don’t you see that? You’re just another one of his little flings. I’m sorry to say that he’s not the man you think he is, my dear.” He looks at her sadly as he settles a conciliatory hand on her shoulder, but she shrugs him off. That only seems to spur him further on to inflict as much damage as he can. “Do you know how many women he’s been with, Adriana? Hundreds and that was just when I knew him. I’m sure the Miami club scene has afforded him all kinds of new experiences.”
     
    Adriana lifts her chin, refusing to be cowed by a man who gets his way by tying women up and extorting people. “That’s all in the past. Grayson’s made no secret of the fact that he’s not a boy scout.” She watches with satisfaction, as a look of frustration passes over Morrison’s face and then disappears again just as quickly.
     
    “You’re a lovely girl, Adriana, lovelier than someone like Grayson deserves. But you’re a fool if you think that a man like that will be satisfied by just one woman.” He looks at her. For a moment, he seems almost fatherly, but any sense of that is wiped away by his next words. “It’s part of the lifestyle. The women…they throw themselves at him. You’ve seen what his fights are like! How can you expect any hot-blooded man to keep his hands off when they’re handing themselves out to him like cake on a platter?”
     
    Adriana tries to push away the memories of the cries that she’d heard from the women in the crowd the night of the fight. We love you, Punisher! You’re so fucking hot, Punisher! Fuck me, Punisher! Tommy had said the same thing to Willow that night—that the women come as part of the package of being an MMA fighter.
     
    “Grayson isn’t like that. He cares about me.” Adriana wishes that she didn’t sound so desperate. It’s as if she’s trying to convince herself as much as she is Morrison. She doesn’t want to believe Morrison, but it’s getting harder and harder. She knows that there must be more to what he’s telling her than what he’s willing to share. She holds onto that thought and the knowledge that Grayson loves her with both hands. “You don’t know anything about us Morrison, so why don’t you just crawl back under the rock that you came out from?”
     
    Morrison raises his hand threateningly as if he’s about to strike her. She flinches away automatically and then wishes that she hadn’t, angry with herself for giving him anything at all. But his hand doesn’t connect with her face like she expects it to. Instead he drops it, smirking at her as if amused by her reaction.
     
    “You’re feisty, Adriana, and you’re smart. I like that about you. But that doesn’t mean that I won’t discipline you if I need to. You only get so many free passes, my dear.” He looks at her meaningfully, nodding towards his goon and letting her fill in the blanks.
     
    “I don’t care what you do to me. Grayson isn’t going to do what you’re asking him. If you’re right and I’m nothing more than a fling to him, then I’m not much of an incentive for him to do what you’re asking.” She feels a sense of achievement in turning Morrison’s twisted logic on its head.
     
    “Trust me, Grayson will do what I tell him to.” Morrison’s confidence doesn’t