I cock an eyebrow and smile through gritted teeth. “That’s a nice offer, Coach Milton, but I already have plans for this evening.”
Assuming this polite brush-off will be enough to get him to leave, I return to gathering up my things before I head to the next event, where I hope to catch college phenom Xander Williams perform and hopefully get my interview with him afterwards.
I reach down to grab my bag and I suddenly feel Milton’s body brush up against mine. He’s technically not touching me, but he hovers—close. My body reacts with a fight or flight response, all my instincts telling me to move and get the hell away from him.
Instead of moving away, I’m trapped like a rabbit in a foxhole, and I remain perfectly still, my breaths becoming short and shallow. My gaze lifts and it locks with the man standing fifteen feet out the doorway in the large hall and caught in my line of vision.
Marek faces me as he speaks with someone. He cocks his head to the side, as if something baffles him and he’s trying to figure it out. And then I see his eyes turn dark as they narrow in on me. Or rather, shoot arrows at the man behind me.
Before I have a chance to do anything else, Milton’s hand runs down the length of my bare arm, my cap-sleeve blouse revealing my forearms which now ripple with goosebumps from his slimy touch. I try to move away to create space, but he grasps my wrist and pulls me flush against his chest, the hard outline of his erection poking me in the ass.
What the actual fuck?
I’m truly stunned this is happening in broad daylight, and no one seems to notice. Doug has his head buried in his camera, headphones on as he rewatches the video footage he just recorded, and everyone else is busy with interviews.
His breath is hot and stale, and his deep, grotesque groan sends shivers of fear down my spine as I close my eyes in shame.
I thought I was strong enough to handle this outwardly sexual overture and come-on.
Apparently, I was wrong. And regardless that I’m a professional, experienced sports broadcaster, it doesn’t stop the likes of a creep like Coach Milton, who thinks I’m here for his pleasure. A disgusting, fat man who still lives in a world where a woman is only to be regarded as a sexual object instead of a professional in her field.
I’ve heard all the warnings whispered like feathered, winged gossip between the females in the sports reporting community. The cautious advice to steer clear of certain coaches or players. The ones who have a history of hitting on women and don’t understand boundaries of professionalism. The type of men who don’t take no for an answer and who will have you blacklisted if you don’t come up to their room andhave a drink and talk sports.
Motherfucking Coach Milton isn’t even a name that came up in the rumor mill to keep my guard up around, so it’s taken me completely by surprise. I start to whirl around, my words barely leaving my lips as my gaze collides with Marek’s.
“Please remove your—"
“Take your goddamn hands off her, Charlie.” Marek’s voice is a low rumble of warning.
My eyes fly open to find him right in front of me, anger radiating from his expression. Coach Milton scoffs, dropping his hand from my wrist as I yank myself upright and as far away as I can from him. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around my waist in a protective gesture.
“Hello to you too, Marek,” Milton says, raising his hands in the air innocently, as if he weren’t just caught red-handed. “I was simply asking Harper a question about her plans this evening.”
Marek flicks his gaze between us, landing back on mine, his expression curious.
“Is that so?” His reply is for Milton, but he keeps his eyes on me. I scrub my hands over my folded arms, trying to slake off the icky feeling Milton left behind.
Marek turns his attention back on Coach Milton. “Then she probably explained her plans are with me tonight. Miss Conrad is accompanying me to the dinner event, where I’m sure you’ve heard I’m being honored with the annual leadership award.”
If looks could kill and words could maim, Coach might be sprawled out, dead on the floor. It’s clear, even though his expression remains calm and neutral, the man has an ego issue. And Marek must know it to exploit it like that.
I’m cheering loudly with my inside voice in my head.Take that, you asshat!
Milton shuffles a step back and then gives a derisive laugh.
“I see how it is,” he snickers lewdly. “Instead of working her way up, she started at the top with you, Marek. How very enterprising of you, Miss Conrad.”
Like a live wire snapping, Marek’s body tightens, his eyes flaring, as he strides into Milton’s space, towering over the shorter, rotund man.
“If you know what’s good for your career, Milton, you won’t go making false accusations or sharing those malicious lies. I asked Harper to attend the gala tonight and there is nothing else to say. Unless…” Marek glances behind him, turning his head over one shoulder and then the other before stopping at Milton. “You’d like everyone to know about that situation in Vegas last year.”
I don’t know what situation he’s referring to, but it’s clear Milton knows because his face turns bright red—either out of anger or embarrassment, I don’t know which. But it’s enough to shut Milton up.
Milton flicks a glance at me and snorts. “Whatever. You two enjoy your dinner tonight. I have another meeting to attend to. I’ll see you around.”
Without sparing another look, Milton turns and grabs his jacket off the back of his chair, swiftly moving through the room and down the hallway out of sight.
“Are you okay?”