Page 529 of Savage Bosses

Shrugging, I reply, “Again. Just drinks. Besides, I doubt he’d pop up here, and if so, I’d say it was a business meeting.”

He eyes me carefully over the rim of his glass before he takes another sip of his bourbon. He’d asked me to meet him at Tony’s Watering Hole after work, and I’d agreed since it was a Friday evening and I had no other plans.

“Besides, I wasn’t the only one who didn’t want him to find out.”

“Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know.”

He nods, sniffs, and looks around the bar. “No, you got it all wrong.”

“I never gave a damn what your brother thought. He’s my best friend, but he doesn’t dictate where I sling my goddamn dick.”

My eyebrows rise, but I decide to get this meeting back on track.

“What’s so important you couldn’t discuss it at the office?”

“Your change toward me. You barely spoke to me initially, resented the sight of me, and shirked every command I gave you at every chance.”

“Still do,” I answer feistily.

“Yeah, but you…don’t shun my touch anymore. It’s like you welcome it and the punishments. Dare I say that you purposely thwart my authority to feel my paddle or hand on that sweet ass of yours?”

I lift my ginger-lime beer to my lips and take a sip from the mug, turning my head sideways to peer out of the window.

“What’s changed, Bryn?”

Shrugging, I answer, “Nothing. Just thought you deserved a chance. Everyone does.”

Slamming his fist onto the table, he snarls, “Don’t bullshit me, Bryn.”

I jump. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. I’ve always expected you to be honest if no one else was.”

I don’t want to betray my brother’s confidence, but I can’t lie to Ambrose anymore. If there’s a chance of us finding forgiveness and laying the past to rest, it starts now.

Flicking my thumb back and forth across my bottom lip, I inhale deeply and slowly exhale.

“Bray mentioned that something strange happened between you and Lyndsey.”

I see the clenching of his jaw, his face reddening, and those hazel eyes normally giving off a greenish or golden hue are now shooting sparks of fire that resemble a light umber blaze. He turns his gaze out the window, and his jaw starts ticking as he locks his hands together.

“Ro.”

“Men don’t get assaulted, Bryn,” he bites out.

“They do. Just because society doesn’t talk about it and just because men are made to feel less than when it happens doesn’t make it any less true.”

He props his elbows on the table, and as much as I want to hear the story from him, I know that it’s his to tell, and he needs to tell it in his own time.

A server arrives at our table, but I simply shake my head letting her know we’re not ready to order.

“She was my friend and confidante and the only one I could trust and rely on going into the MLB. She took me to all the parties and introduced me to anyone who would further my career beyond baseball. I appreciated her because those first months in Chicago were lonely.”

“I remember.”

“One night after a party in LA, we returned to the hotel and stopped at the bar for drinks. I stepped away to take pictures with some fans who recognized me. I returned to our table later and finished drinking before heading upstairs because I wasn’t feeling well.”

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