"Friends? Those are my sister's friends," Fenton said. His blue eyes crashed into mine. He reached out and grabbed a handful from the salad the waiter had only moments ago slid into place. "Ugh, bitter and too lemony. Let me guess, the lady that can speak for herself let this joker order for her?"
"This joker is asking you to leave," Jackson said. He stood up and flagged down the maitre d' and security.
"Come on, Kya, you're an order-for-yourself kind of a girl. You're not all of this. And, you certainly don't want to be with him," Fenton said.
The whole restaurant was looking. My cheeks were bright red flames, but I kept my voice steady. "What did you mean those were your sister's friends?"
"So, you really didn't know?" Fenton asked.
"Sir, come with me," the security guard interrupted, latching a large hand on Fenton's arm.
Fenton yanked his arm free easily and turned back to me. This time, the security guard grabbed both his biceps and tried to turn him towards the door. I stood up to stop him, I needed to hear what Fenton had to say, but Jackson shielded me from the scene with one long arm.
"Don't worry about Mr. Morris, Kya. He was just leaving," Jackson said. "Maybe you should have taken me up on my earlier offer of room service."
"Sure, golfer, let security take care of your dirty work while you try to work your game on her," Fenton said. "I should have known you wouldn't stand up to me yourself."
Jackson's jaw clenched. "Don't listen to him, Kya. He's drunk and doesn't know what he's saying."
"Oh, so know you're telling her what to listen to and what to think?" Fenton asked. "How about she hears a story about this woman I once knew. I knew this woman who slipped into an underground bare-knuckle boxing match. And instead of getting scared and trying to get out, instead of freezing up and waiting for someone to help her, she was just fine."
"Come on, Kya, let me take you back to my hotel. We can get a bite to eat in peace there," Jackson said.
He nodded to the security guard, who wrapped his arms around Fenton's chest from behind and tried to haul him out of the restaurant. Fenton broke free of the larger man's hold in one move and spun to face him. I heard a sharp gasp before Fenton threw the first punch, and then realized it was me that had made the sound.
The fight slammed into a nearby table and the restaurant erupted as people fled their expensive dinners. The security guard was almost twice Fenton's size, the shape and bulk of a retired football player. He lunged at Fenton, who spun aside and chopped him on the back of the neck. The guard stumbled. Despite his obvious intoxication, Fenton was in control of the fight, until the guard turned around a brandished a Taser.
He aimed at Fenton, and I jumped forward to stop him. Jackson wrapped an arm around my waist to lift me back. I thrashed against him, trying to kick the weapon out of the guard's hand. A camera flash dazed us all and afterwards, Fenton stepped back and raised his hands. He turned and walked out of the restaurant unharmed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Kya
I curled up in the corner of the white sofa and tried to ignore the red wine stains on the rug. Luckily, there was no sign of Dana Maria or any of her friends besides the smears of body glitter and red spills they had left behind. The plate of French fries I had ordered from room service sat untouched in front of me. I was frozen in horror, my eyes locked to the screen of my laptop.
The photograph had gone viral within seconds of Fenton leaving the restaurant. The snapshot showed the angry security guard aiming the Taser at Fenton, Fenton facing him with fists raised, Jackson trying to pull me out of danger, and me kicking my black heels at the security guard. The savage look on my face held me captivated.
"In a strange turn of the tables, admirer Kya Allen tries to defend the top ranked MMA fighter Fenton Morris from a threatened security guard while nice-guy Jackson McRay tries to save her from getting Tasered, too."
The story was all over social media. Speculation was rampant about my relationship to Fenton as well as his reason for crashing my date with Jackson. It was a drama-filled love triangle we had served up to the paparazzi on a silver platter. Everyone pointed out the picture said it all– Fenton's blue eyes on me instead of the imminent threat of the Taser and
me fighting off the most eligible bachelor gentleman to come to the rescue of the infamous womanizer.
I shifted my study of the photograph to Fenton and could not ignore the flutter of excitement in my stomach. He had come to the restaurant specifically to disrupt my date with Jackson. A man did not do something like that if he did not care about the woman. Cell phone footage was staring to roll out of Fenton telling me "You certainly don't want to be with him."
I had not denied it, but then again I had not been given much of a chance to speak. And, I had not figured out what Fenton meant about his sister's friends.
I sprang off the couch and went to open my own bottle of red wine. Luckily, the dancers had not raided the wine refrigerator and I did not care what vintage I was drinking. Had Fenton just done it for the publicity?
An official statement had been issued by the MMA putting Fenton on probation. There was no way he had pulled the stunt at the restaurant to further his career.
I glanced at the door to Fenton's room before I returned to the sofa. He had beaten me back to the suite and was passed out cold when I arrived. Somehow, I was sure he already knew about the probation. For all his wild acting, Fenton was a professional. That is why he raised his hands and left the restaurant before things went any farther.
My phone rang and I picked it up. "Go ahead and give me the lecture, boss. I deserve it. Our clients get the headlines, not us."
"Lecture you? Honey baby, if I was there I would kiss you!" James crowed. "The publicity is through the roof! The vitamin people are so impressed with the stir you've created that they've sweetened the deal."
"Are you serious? I thought the whole thing was shot and you're telling me it’s better than ever?" I asked.