Since one hand is holding my glass, I start to take my hand from Madden’s thigh and reach for Tristan’s arm, but Madden wraps his fingers around my wrist before I get very far. “Don’t let him manipulate you, Megan. He just wants to break down your defenses so you’ll be easier. He doesn’t have the game to get you without the help.”
My eyes widen and jaw drops. “Madden, why would you—”
Tristan slams his glass down, making me jump. “You want to go there, Madden? Okay. Let’s talk about manipulation for a minute. How about what tricks you used to get in all those other girls’ pants? You’re the fucking master manipulator.”
What the hell is going on? It’s like a pissing contest, but on steroids. I’ve never seen either of them like this.
“Tristan, he’s just saying—”
Madden leans over me and points his finger right in Tristan’s face. “Like you’re any better? I didn’t see you saying no to any of them either. In fact, I’d put money on it that you were more of a manipulator than I was.”
Tristan slaps his hand away, his face reddening with fury. “Tell me, Megan,” he says, though he doesn’t even look at me, his angry gaze trained on Madden, “did he pull out all the stops last night? Play nice for you? Or did he just try to overwhelm you with his fucking overkill charming playboy act until you were ready to drop your panties for him?”
Madden laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “There was no act involved, asshole, but you better believe she was so fucking wet for me that—”
“Madden!” I interrupt, mortified. Oh my god, I don’t think I’ve ever been this humiliated. Or this angry.
Tristan scoffs. “Don’t flatter yourself, dickhead. I’m sure it was just because she was still soaked from the way I made her come.”
I gasp and cover my eyes with my hands. “Stop it! Both of you. Please!”
But it’s like they can’t hear me. They both rise to their feet, and I look up. They’re posturing like fucking peacocks. Each trying to show up the other.
Madden pokes a finger in Tristan’s chest. “You and your fucking superiority complex. Like you’re a motherfucking god. Untouchable. I’ve got news for you, dude. You’re just a cocky asshole who gets off on pushing other people around.”
Tristan steps forward, swatting Madden’s hand away and getting right in his face. “I wouldn’t go there if I were you. Who’s the one who thinks he’s God’s gift to women? You’ve stuck your dick in so many sluts that I can’t even—”
Madden’s fists clench, and I know before he even rears back that this is about to come to blows.
“Stop! Madden! Tristan!” I look at Maya, panicked. “Do something.”
She sticks her fingers in her mouth and lets out a shrill whistle, standing and placing a hand on each of their chests. “What the hell do you two think you’re doing?”
Now that she’s intervened, she’s all business, putting them in their places, pushing them back on the seats to either side of me. Normally I’d find it funny, a short little thing like Maya bossing around these two huge and powerful men.
But there’s not a damn thing about this that’s funny.
What the fuck just happened? Is this really all about me? It seems crazy to think so, but I can’t see what else it could be about. I want to be angry about the things they just said, but I’m so worked up and confused that all I can do is hide my face in my hands.
This has gone to shit, real fast.
“Megan,” Tristan says, placing a hand on the small of my back and rubbing gently. “I’m sorry.”
Not to be outdone, Madden starts kneading my shoulders. “God, Megan, I never meant to upset you.”
I can practically feel them staring daggers at each other over my head, and I can’t take it anymore. I push up from the loveseat and go sit by Maya, ready for this plane ride to be over so I can just get the hell away from this mess.
I have no idea why that just went down, and hell, I know it makes for good TV, but I didn’t sign up for that shit. Having them use the things we did together as a way to take a jab at the other. Fuck that.
They both try again to apologize, but I just hold up a hand. I can’t even right now.
I remain silent for the rest of the flight, and when we land, Maya has already ordered three separate cars to take us back to the apartment. How could my perfect dates have come to this? Now I’m even more confused than ever.
20
Maya
“What the fuck were you thinking, Maya?” my boss spits out at me. Literally. Spit is flying from his mouth as he rages.