Hard Fall (Trophy Boyfriends 2)

It’s right up his alley.

“Oh shit.” Madison’s gaze turns from lazy to wide-eyed and mystified. “Incoming.”

“Huh?”

The crowd parts like the Red Sea at Moses’s command—or in this case, Marlon Daymon’s, with his tan skin and black hair and blaring white teeth, which now look absolutely ridiculous. The people step aside, as if he were a god or a prophet—I found out the hard way that he is not.

“Why is he coming over here?” We broke up. I mean—I broke up with him, but it’s not like he wanted me back. No, that would mean he’d have to give up hitting on other women and being an asshole.

“I could just punch that stupid smile right off his stupid face,” Madison announces, the classy dress she had to borrow from me providing the demure backdrop she needs to make such a statement. She only looks sweet and reserved. “Look at that arrogant fuck.”

I need her to lower her voice. “Would you please zip it and be cool? This will all be over in five seconds. He’s probably not even coming over to me. I bet he’s—”

“Hey beautiful.” Marlon leans down and kisses the side of my cheek, a show for everyone watching, none of whom know we even went on one date, let alone a dozen, or that he stomped on my heart and completely humiliated me.

I wish he wouldn’t call me beautiful when we both know I’m not. I’m not his typical girlfriend, not someone he’d choose to date.

He was using me, like he’s using me now.

I pull away, stepping back, putting a few feet between us.

Beside me, Madison tosses her hair. “Look what the trash man dropped off,” she sneers impolitely.

See, the thing is, I wasn’t brought up to be confrontational like this, and certainly not in public, even though Marlon deserves it. Especially not in a crowd of people, particularly when I’m here representing my family.

It looks bad. No matter how much I hate him, the last thing I need is my best friend talking shit to an ex in front of people who are here tonight to donate to a cause.

I nervously smooth a hand down the front of my pressed slacks but still have nothing to say to him.

“What do you want?” Madison asks for me, reading my mind, saying it like a person would say, This garbage smells like rotten eggs and congealed seafood—where do you want this leaky bag tossed out?

“What do you mean, what do I want? I haven’t seen Hollis in months and wanted to say hello.” He knows she hates him and he doesn’t care.

Marlon Daymon does not need to care.

Perhaps I should let Madison sink her talons into him.

“How you been doing, sweetie?” He reaches out to touch my arm, but Madison slaps it away.

“Don’t call her that.”

He gives her a long look, beginning at her feet, slowly dragging his gaze up before meeting her eyes. “Still a raging bitch, I see.”

My best friend’s mouth gapes. Closes. “I guess I’d be slinging insults too if I had a tiny dick.”

Oh god.

Marlon glances at me. “Really?”

I mean…for someone arrogant and cocky, his dick really isn’t that great. Average at best. Unexpected considering how he struts around like a prize stallion, waiting to impregnate anyone within a three-foot radius.

I raise an eyebrow. Shrug.

It’s pissing him off that I haven’t spoken two words to him, and he makes one last attempt to raise my ire.

“I might have a small dick, but you’re still a frigid bitch.”

Now it’s my mouth that opens and closes, and I can actually feel my eyes physically widen in shock, heat rushing to my face—I don’t blush often, but I am on fire now.

“Hold me back,” my bestie says, taking one step forward toward a man who doesn’t have the common sense, or the decency, to leave. “Why are you such an asshole?”

The brows I once thought were the most attractive part of his face rise. “Because I can be.”

Gross. Just so gross. I cannot believe I wasted a single second on this scumbag.

Movement catches my eye.

A bright red shirt, stuck like a second skin to a toned, athletic body. A tall, tan god strutting toward us, appearing out of nowhere.

Fuck. It’s that douche from the elevator shaft, and I bet you a hundred dollars if I said shaft out loud within earshot of him, the idiot would giggle like a twelve-year-old.

“What’s going on?” He plants a kiss to the top of my forehead, but I don’t bristle the way I did when Marlon kissed me. “Babe.”

Babe?

What the hell is this guy doing? Is he nuts?

Is he…is he trying to rescue me?

“I…I…” don’t have any idea what to say.

“Aww, did you miss me? You’re speechless.” He kisses the top of my head again, and this time, I swear he takes a long whiff. Exchanges a weird handshake-slash-fist-bump with his teammate, sizing him up the way Marlon sized Madison up before insulting her. “What’s up, Daymon? You behaving yourself or hardly behaving?”