Page 169 of The Pucking Wrong Man

She didn’t answer, and the silence stretched on, now unsettling. My heart skipped a beat, and I peeked through the crack in the stall door. I didn’t see anyone...

I flushed and then opened the door cautiously, stepping out into the empty bathroom.

A second later, I was slammed against the wall, a hand gripping my throat. Michael’s face loomed over me, his eyes wild and crazed.

“Hello, little bunny,” he hissed, his voice sending a chill down my spine. “It’s been really hard to get a hold of you.”

Panic surged through me, and I clawed at his hand, struggling to breathe. His grip tightened, cutting off my air. Spots danced in my vision as I kicked and writhed, desperate to get free. “Let...me...go,” I gasped, my voice barely a whisper.

He smirked, enjoying my terror. “You think you can hide from me? You’re mine, Anastasia. You’ll always be mine.”

Just as I felt myself slipping into unconsciousness, the bathroom door burst open. Freya stumbled in. She lunged at Michael, her fists flying. Michael released me, and I collapsed to the floor, gulping in air.

The two of them struggled, Michael trying to fend off my bodyguard’s relentless attacks. He was no match for her, though, and I watched as she landed a solid punch to his jaw. He staggered back, blood trickling from his lip, and then he turned and bolted out the door.

Freya rushed to my side, her eyes filled with concern. “Anastasia, are you okay?”

I nodded weakly, still catching my breath. “I’m...I’m fine. Thank you.”

She helped me to my feet, her grip steady and reassuring. “He came at me from behind, hit me with something. I’m so sorry.”

I waved her off, still struggling to breathe. I leaned over the sink, my pulse wild and out of control. Glancing in the mirror, I winced when I saw how red my neck was, and how some of the capillaries in my eyes had burst.

Crap.

“I’ll get a message to Mr. James,” she said, watching me with wide, concerned eyes.

“No,” I gasped, my voice a little hysterical. “I don’t want to distract him from the game.”

“He'll want to know,” she said chidingly. “We need to have a doctor look at you, and we need to report this to the authorities as well.”

“I’m fine. I promise. All of that can wait until after the game. Let’s just get back out there.”

She stared at me disapprovingly.

“Please,” I pleaded.

Finally, she reluctantly nodded. “But the second the game’s over, I'm reporting this.”

I nodded thankfully.

As we left the bathroom, the noise of the arena washed over me again, a stark contrast to the terrifying encounter I had just endured. My mind raced, trying to process what had happened. Freya was visibly nervous as we walked, her head bouncing around like a bobblehead as she checked for threats. I was the same way, sure that I was going to see Michael in the crowd at any moment. Neither of us breathed until we were back in the stands, going down to our seats.

I bit down on my lip when she touched the back of her head and winced. She needed to get looked at too.

Zipping my jacket all the way to my neck, I settled into my seat, pulling my hair around my shoulders in hopes I could hide the marks for as long as possible.

My neck was aching, though, and I really wanted to cry.

“Anastasia, are you alright?” Blake asked next to me. I smiled and nodded knowing they would want me to tell Camden right now, too, if I told them what happened.

“Yep,” I said instead, ignoring the side eye that Freya was giving me.

I must not have done a good job of faking because at one point Camden stopped in front of us too, mouthing, “what's wrong?” through the glass.

Pasting my dance smile on my face, I gave him a thumbs up and he finally skated off.

But I didn’t think he believed me.

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