Tray strode to the window to yank up the blinds, flooding the room with sunlight. “The one who got hurt was me. She slapped my ass, asshole.”
“You slapped mine first,” I muttered, fighting a grin when Tray shot me the look. The look that said I’d better be quiet.
I’d listened to that look approximately…never.
“Yeah, I did. And since you were coming at the time, I didn’t think you minded.” Tray kicked the weight bag, causing the thing to erupt like a damn leather and sand volcano. Grains poured onto the floor, kicking up enough dust to make me sneeze.
“Sorry.” Tray grabbed the broom and dustpan in the corner and started sweeping up the mess. I sneezed two more times.
“What the hell?” Giovanni crossed the room, seemingly oblivious to Tray’s glower. For a guy who would’ve been a natural in a Nordic ski calendar with his surfer blond hair and ocean blue eyes, Tray definitely knew how to glare someone into submission.
If only Giovanni was paying attention.
“Who did this?” Giovanni demanded, turning to me. Evidently we’d bonded during our sparring session and I’d missed it. Who knew that a guy heaving you over their back would give them the warm fuzzies in your direction?
Then again, that wasn’t far from how Tray and I had hooked up, so maybe I ought to keep my better moves to myself when fighting with men who weren’t my boyfriend. Just in case high kick action activated a mystery switch in their peen or something.
“I must not have made myself clear.” Tray cracked his knuckles, loudly. “Get the fuck out of my office before I ram your balls so far up your throat your tonsils get jealous.”
“Tray, cool it. Unless you want me to take you by the arm and lead you out like you did with me and Little Miss Crumpet.” While I rebraided my hair, I met Giovanni’s gaze. “He didn’t hurt me. And if he had, I would’ve wanted it.” My neck went hot at the admission, but if Tray could be blasé about sex, so could I.
“What about the bag? Did someone break in?”
“Did you leave the door open?” Tray asked me before I could answer Costas’s question, glaring at Giovanni as if his hard stare alone could vaporize him.
“Guess I must’ve.” Shrugging, I moved closer to Tray and rubbed his arm while we studied the bag together.
My heart was still racing a mile a minute. I just wanted this all to go away. Most likely this had nothing to do with my phone stalker, but how could I be sure?
I didn’t want to deal with the fallout if Tray discovered what I’d been hiding. Even if I came clean now, he’d flip.
This whole business was screwing with my head. I’d worked my ass off to become the kind of person who faced things straight on—God, I was even in freaking therapy, and that was basically the anti-Mia way of life—and now I was regressing. Fast.
“It could be anyone. With all the new people who come in and out of here on a daily basis…” Giovanni pinned me with his stare. “You’re going to report this and go through the channels.” It wasn’t a question.
While I didn’t appreciate his tone, I didn’t react like Tray. He pushed in front of me, ready to take any and all invisible bullets. “This isn’t your concern. Got it? You tried to play Good Samaritan and it failed, so I’d advise you to get the fuck out of here before you need one to help you.”
“This may not be my concern but it’s not only yours either. Lots of people attend this gym. If someone’s causing shit—”
“Oh, I get it. You’re afraid your little girlfriend Vanity might get roughed up. Or are you more concerned about the other Anderson sister?” Giovanni said nothing, his mouth flattening. “If you think I believe for a minute that you’ve backed off there, you’re dumber than I gave you credit for, Costas. And that’s saying plenty.”
“Tray.” I gripped his wrist, forcing him to face me. What was his deal? He’d never liked Giovanni for obvious reasons—the fight they’d had last winter, the last of Tray’s career, being a big part of it—but he was positively rabid toward him today. “We’ll report it,” I said to Giovanni, though I didn’t take my eyes off my boyfriend. “Can you leave us alone now?”
“Fine.” Giovanni crossed the room and stopped in the doorway. “You might want to give her more credit, Fox. She knows her own mind. You’d do well to remember that.”
The instant the door shut behind Giovanni, Tray slammed his fist into the desk. “Did he mean you? Was he trying to tell me he knew your mind better than I do?”
“I don’t think so.” Smothering a sigh, I rubbed Tray’s back and gave in to the urge to lay my cheek on his shoulder. “I think he meant Carly.” Possibly.
I’d never been sure of anything when it came to Costas, except I didn’t like the guy. There was more to him than his ground-and-pound fighting style and the slick charm he used on the women who flocked to him. I just didn’t know if that more was better or worse.
Tray shifted toward me and brushed my jaw with knuckles that had already gone red. “He thought I was like my father. That I’d gotten pissed and decided to show you some ‘discipline.’”
For a moment, no words came. He’d hinted at trouble in his family before, but he’d never come this close to acknowledging that trouble was physical. That his father had harmed his mother…and maybe him too. “He made a mistake.” I covered Tray’s hand on my face with my own. “He doesn’t know you. If he did, he’d understand that you could never do that to a woman. Hell, I begged you to fight me, fair and square, and you refused.”
Tray glanced toward the window, a muscle ticking in his temple. “But what if I could?” He brought his gaze back to mine and the pain in his beautiful eyes made my breath catch. “What if I did?”
“That’s not you. You know that. I know that. Don’t be fucking stupid.”