Page 71 of Back in Black

Stiff with indignation, she said, “You will make out a list.”

One of his brows went up. “I will, huh?”

His infuriating attitude ramped up her annoyance another notch. “I want to know each and every reporter you’ve spoken with, so that I can contact them myself. After I’ve spoken with them,I’llmake a final decision on which appointments you’ll keep, and which ones I’ll cancel.” Her hands tightened into fists over the task ahead. Thanks to Drew, her workload had just doubled, and her carefully thought-out plan was awry. “From now on, I will vet any and all interview situations and choose only the—”

“Too late.” He tweaked her chin. “I already said I’d do them, so I can’t back out now.”

Gillian’s eyes widened. He’d not only disregarded her order, he’dtweakedher chin. Of all the condescending, obnoxious gestures he could have made, that had to be the worst. It reeked of superiority.

The doorbell rang, and Drew said, “About damn time. I’m starved.” He swatted her butt as he passed. “Someonewore me out. Not saying any names or anything.”

Gillian stood there, flummoxed, mute. Definitely, a slap on the butt was worse than a chin tweak. He’d smacked her hard enough that she could feel the imprint of his hand, tingly and warm, on her backside.

Disbelief melded into fury.

She’d kill him.

Almost heaving in her agitation, Gillian turned to stare toward where Drew had gone. At the very least, she’d make him wish he was dead.

Was it their intimate relationship that made him think he could overrule her business acumen without even the consideration of a discussion? She’d been hired to do a job, damn him, and despite his outrageous provocation, she would succeed.

Dire thoughts of retribution flickered through her mind—until she heard a conversation that sounded nothing like a pizza delivery. Straining her ears, she paused to listen.

Those raised voices were definitely not part of idle conversation with a deliveryman.

With an unsettling sense of déjà vu, Gillian went to investigate. Staying out of sight, she eavesdropped and recognized Dickey Thompson’s voice.

Oh, crap.

Here she was, once again caught in dishabille inside Drew’s home. What could Dickey want? Drew claimed he had that situation all taken care of, but to Gillian, it sounded like another fire blazing.

“You fuckingdarecome to my house? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

Gillian winced. Drew was truly furious. She’d seen him rage in online video interviews, and heard about his temper in articles, but she’d never personally witnessed him like this.

“I don’t have your phone number,” Dickey complained.

“That’s because you don’t need it!”

Gillian peeked around the corner, saw the two men facing each other, and her heart stuck in her throat. Drew wasn’t a “little guy” by any stretch, but he didn’t match up to Dickey’s colossal size.

If he got in a physical altercation with Dickey, it could be devastating on many levels. She might want to kill Drew, but she didn’t want some muscle-bulging behemoth to dismember him.

Voice low, Gillian hissed,“Drew.”

Either he didn’t hear her, or he chose to ignore her. Most likely the latter.

Well, maybe she should let Dickey have him. But no . . .

“Drew!”

Pointing at Dickey, Drew said, “You need to get your shit together, man. There’ll be other opportunities, but not if you keep stepping over the line.”

Dickey braced his hands on the door frame and leaned in. “That drunken shit the other night was just a fluke. It won’t happen again, Drew, I swear it.” He pulled in a deep breath and blurted out, “I want an opportunity in the next televised fight.”

Without even a second’s thought, Drew said, “Ain’t happening. Forget it.”

Discouraged, Dickey pulled back. “I guess your wonder boy, Brett, is in?”

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