Page 77 of Break the Ice
“The media reports said the affair started?—”
“When I was twenty,” she finishes for me. A bitter smile twists itself onto her face. “That was the story David decided we should go with. For everyone’s best interests. What he really meant was his. I was just some twenty-year-old opportunist looking to ruin the life of a married man’s who was a legend in the sport.”
Instant rage boils inside of me. I’m gripping her wrist tight without even realizing I am. “You’re saying it started when you were underage?”
“He saw potential in me,” she confesses darkly. “I wanted to make him happy. I didn’t know what it was at first. The training was training. Nothing unusual beyond his strict methods of instilling form and technique. Sometimes it felt like I couldn’t please him no matter how hard I pushed myself. But David insisted I had it in me. I was going to make it to the top. He was going to help me.
“The fucked up thing is, the first time he made a move, I thought it was an honor. I was his best protégé. I was the girl he saw the most potential in. I didn’t realize he saw some stupid, naïve girl to take advantage of. An easy way to get sex. But I knew he was married… and I slept with him anyway. My first experience.”
“Sugar, Marisse,” I rasp, full of rage. “You were a teenager. He was old enough to be your father.”
“I got caught up in him. When I finally turned eighteen, he broke things off. He told me to never speak to him again. I worked even harder to prove myself. I had a new coach, and the Winter Olympics were coming. Then I injured myself during the pretrials and the committee voted against giving me another chance. David was best friends with the head committee member.”
“The asshole blocked you?”
She hesitantly nods. “You’d think I’d have learned to stay away. But… but I thought I loved him. He reached out again later. Months before the Olympics. It was a quick fling. The media finally picked up on it when we were photographed together at a hotel. That’s the story that hit the headlines. He insisted we act like it was a one-time thing.”
“The news reports made it sound like you were out for blood. To ruin his marriage.”
She sighs. “I had to leave the sport. I went to college and tried to be anonymous. I dyed my hair and went under my mother’s maiden name. But it felt a lot more like my life was the one that was ruined. Even then, I still hadn’t learned my lesson. I still showed up that night he called me.”
“And killed himself.”
“Are you satisfied? You finally know.”
“No,” I answer, my jaw tight. “I’m not satisfied. Because the asshole’s dead and I can’t kill him myself.”
“I sure know how to pick them.” She laughs, the sound glum and hollow.
“You didn’t pick him, Sugar. The asshole took advantage of you in every way he could. I’d slice his dick off with a rusty scrap of metal if he were still alive. I might go piss on his grave since it’s the closest thing?—”
Marisse almost smirks at me. She catches herself at the last second. “I don’t want you doing me any more favors. I’m still paying what I owe.”
“Payments you enjoy.” I grip her by the side of the neck and bring her down on me. Our lips touch in a passionate kiss. My free hand roams her body, stroking her supple flesh. “You know it really is true, right?”
“What would that be?”
“He was a piece of shit. He didn’t deserve to live. And you shouldn’t have lost your career because of it.”
Her eyes connect with mine, a sudden spark shining in them. “That might be the most meaningful thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Does this mean you don’t hate me anymore?” I tease my fingers along the flat surface of her stomach.
“I’m not sure I’d go that far.”
I laugh. “Maybe I will go piss on his grave. Extra credit points. You up for prolonging this round a little?”
“What do I get out of it?”
I laugh. “Breakfast and a ride in my Corvette.”
“You’ll have to do better than that.”
“I’ll eat that juicy fucking pussy of yours. I’ll buy you some sugary cereal. I’ll never call you Sugar Tits again.”
“Can I get that last one in writing?”
“Sure,” I answer, kissing her lips again. A quick peck. “On one condition. There’s something I want you to wear.”
