She recoiled in shock. “Have you been spying on me?”
“Of course I’ve kept an eye on you, and lucky for me I did. Otherwise I wouldn’t have known what kind of whore you are. The sweet, innocent act was so convincing, I was ready to marry you just to get in your pants. Now, I see, all I had to do was take what I wanted. And I want to fuck you.” He stalked towards her.
She backed away cautiously while he spoke, but his desk stopped her retreat.
“Andrew, I came straight here to tell you in person it was over. I felt I owed you that much. You have your ring and my apology. Now I’m leaving.”
She eased around the chairs sitting in front of his desk, hoping to avoid touching him.
“We are over when I say we’re over, and not a minute sooner. I want to have a go at what you blatantly offered. Always wearing little to nothing. Dancing like a stripper.” He matched action to words, moving too fast for her to avoid.
In a bruising grasp, he jerked her to him, covering her mouth with his own. The kiss was hard and sloppy, making her gag and fight to get free, but his hold on her arms was unrelenting. She twisted her head and bit his lip, shoving at his chest to hold him back.
“You fucking bitch,” he yelled and backhanded her across the face, the ring on his hand biting into her cheek.
Angel fell to the side, hitting her hip on his desk. She saw stars and tasted blood as she fell to the carpet. Another blow came down on her face, landing on the same side as the other. His loafers come into view seconds before his hand lowered and fisted in her hair, jerking her back to her feet.
She hurt from head to toe, but that was an afterthought to getting the hell out of there. Angel grabbed between his legs, twisting at the same time she squeezed, as if her life depended on it. His howl of anguish turned into a high-pitched squeal that would’ve been funny, if she wasn’t so scared. The grip on her hair loosened, and, with all the strength she could muster, she gave a last vicious twist-and-squeeze combo that brought him to his knees.
She released him, grabbed her bag that had fallen, and ran out the door before he could get to his feet. Glancing back she saw Andrew on his side, his hands between his legs.
Bypassing the elevator, she ran down four flights of stairs and burst into the lobby of the arena, ignoring the puzzled stares of the staff. Her feet didn't stop until she reached the parking garage and stood beside her car. She tried to hit the unlock button, but the uncontrollable shake of her hands had the keys clattering to the ground. "Damn it!" The cry tore from her lips, born of fear and frustration.
She slid behind the wheel, watching over her shoulder, expecting to see Andrew storming after her. “Calm down, girl.” Muttering to herself, she engaged the locks and drove home, feeling every bump and stop she made. The tremors wracking her body made it nearly impossible to navigate LA traffic, but fear lent her the strength to do it. By the time she reached her secured apartment, she’d never been so happy to get out of her sporty little car. If she never saw Andrew Cage again, it would be too soon. Just the image of his enraged face brought a fresh wave of terror to her. She looked around as she emerged, still expecting him to jump out at her, and fisted her keys in one hand, her bag in the other.
The valet greeted her with a smile that was quickly replaced with concern. “Are you all right, Ms. Rugiero?”
“Oh, I had an accident. I’ll be fine.” After brushing past him with more words she couldn’t repeat if asked, Angelina took the elevator to the top floor, hoping nobody was there. She needed a minute to herself, where she could break down in private. And break down she did. Tears of fear, rage, and hurt flowed down her face. How could she have been so blind and stupid to think he was a nice man? If she’d not gone home, she might have ended up marrying him. A full-blown shiver wracked her, making the injury on her hip scream. The thought of what life would’ve been like had she become Mrs. Cage was a terrifying one. Years of abuse and neglect were in that future, she was sure.
The sight of her bright red door with the cute wreath Renee was constantly changing with the seasons greeted her. She didn’t find any happy feelings as she put her key in the lock and twisted the door open. Could hardly see through her tears to even get the locks reengaged.
Barely making it through the door and locking herself in, she slid down the wall, hugging her knees to her chest. She had no clue how long she sat there, rocking back and forth. Her face throbbed, and her hip screamed, but she didn’t think she needed to go to the hospital. Lifting a less than steady hand to her cheek, she gently touched and nearly wet her pants at the pain that lanced down to her toes.