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she was tired, grimy, and trying to avoid a nasty scene in the middle of the New Millennium Inn lobby. She’d prefer negotiating with him some other time.
    She felt a firm grasp on her forearm a second before she was yanked none too gently back. Her heart pounded, but she ignored it. No one was allowed to mess with Sophie Morelle; she’d brought better men to the verge of tears for lesser offenses. Sophie let her temper rage, replacing the fear that had her heart aflutter. In seconds, she was sure the fire in her cheeks matched the manhandling creep’s coloring.
    “My fighters. My arena. You mess with them, you mess with me.”
    “If you don’t release my arm this instant, the police are going to have a mess to sort out. Assault charges...”
    “Bitch. It’s a wonder your network didn’t can you earlier.” His hand dropped, though his fingers formed a fist on the way down. Sophie stepped back, waving her room key in his face like a sword fending off the enemy. Things were about to get ugly if she didn’t defuse the situation.
    She bit back her irritation and squashed the numb sensation in the pit of her stomach that appeared each time a man got overly aggressive with her, and calmly stated, “You’re going to have more money than you know what to do with if you hear me out.”
    Though the pigheadedness in his piglike eyes remained, Jerry paused. Instinctively she knew the moment for violence had passed, though her stomach churned and her throat burned.
    “Lady, I don’t know how you got here, or what you’re up to, but you’re bad news and I don’t like you. Fuck, don’t you think you caused enough freakin’ damage?”
    “When you’re feeling more chipper, we’ll discuss how you are going to ride the Tetnus wave and double your winnings. And, I’m going to make it happen, whether you like me or not.”
    Jerry frowned, considering her words. With a grunt, he turned and marched away, but not before issuing a parting shot. “Like you? Much as I’d like a bullet to the head.”
    Join the party...jerk.
    She made her way down the long corridor toward the elevator bank in the east wing. The wheels of her suitcase rolled across the carpet, churning along with her thoughts. As a teenager, she’d learned the hard way how to deal with powerful men. Just like so many people in her past, nothing motivated them like money. Jerry was no exception.
    Truth be told, she was just as easy. Heck, the reason she’d taken the Late Night with Sophie Morelle gig was the stellar salary. She’d sold herself out. Intentionally. Crossed the fine line between morally correct and immorally lurid. Cheap, too. Jerry’d be just another notch on her jaded belt.
    Sophie wasn’t proud of what she’d become. Often she didn’t even like herself. But it was a world better than those early years, when a pigheaded man just like Jerry had snatched away her dreams. Temporarily, anyway.
    The scars on her soul didn’t count.
    * * *
    “Woot! Woot! That’s twenty laps, Caden honey. That means—”
    Caden dove and held his glide, effectively silencing the chatterbox. God, that woman loved the sound of her own voice. More annoying was that the chatter consisted of a single topic—him. Not that he let the constant praise—even of the most minor stuff, like the way he flossed his damned teeth—feed his ego. Caden was tired of his fame, and the bullshit that accompanied it.
    Mouth closed and legs spread wide. Fuck, that’s what he wanted. Just like any average Joe. Her moaning and him coming hard. Not all this yacking about his pecs or underwear collection.
    Maybe if he stuck it out for twenty more laps, Chatty’d get the hint and disappear? He’d been more than direct after the Oral-B remark this morning. It’d been fun, but her number was up. Which was why her appearance at the end of the pool had him swimming more laps than necessary, considering the ten-pound weights strapped to his biceps and ankles.
    Despite Cathy—or whatever