“And when she gets worked up, she takes her stress out on me.”
The words sounded like they were growled out of Hunter’s throat, and Sebastian paused in his climb to look over at his partner. Sure enough, Hunter’s face was bright red, and not from exertion. “Ah,” he said, chuckling. “That kind of distraction. You poor, suffering beast. How do you cope?”
“Fuck off,” Hunter said. “I—” He bit the words off and stared into the distance.
Sebastian turned to look . . . and cursed.
Now he knew why the gym was so crowded. A trio of cameras were filming a short distance away, and another man held a long boom mic over the head of a girl with white-blonde bleached hair. She was wearing a hot pink sports bra and matching yoga pants . . . and stilettos. And when she turned, he swore again.
Lisa Pinder-Schloss. His ex from hell. The one who wanted to be as famous as the rest of his family.
She brightened at the sight of him and bounded over, her big implants jiggling as she trotted to the climbing wall. And all Sebastian could do was hang there, a few feet off the ground, stunned as she and her entourage showed up.
“Hi, baby,” she cooed, staggering over to the climbing wall. Her heels sunk into the mats and she wobbled with every step.
“Lisa? What are you doing here?” Sebastian said, releasing the hand holds and sliding back down to the ground. At least she had the sense to approach when he was at the bottom of the wall and not the top.
He looked over at Hunter, and he had his hands in front of his face, squinting. “If those cameras don’t get off of me in two seconds, I’m suing the daylights out of each and every one of you,” the scarred billionaire growled.
Immediately, all three cameras swiveled away and zoomed in on Lisa.
Sebastian dusted his hands, stepping a few feet away to give Hunter his privacy. He knew the man was reclusive and hated his picture taken. Hell, Hunter hated going out in public at all but was trying to do better for his fiancée. Definitely time for Sebastian to look into that private climbing wall. Fuck.
He took Lisa by the elbow and dragged her to the side. “What are you doing here?”
She pouted. “I came to see you.”
Her pout looked ridiculous. She’d clearly gotten a lot of recent work done and not only were her breasts enormous, nipples poking through the thin fabric of her bra, but her lips were bloated, too. They looked like a duck bill, protruding from her face and stretching her once pretty features into a caricature. She’d clearly gone overboard with the plastic surgery. She’d been tanning quite a bit and looked, well, a bit too orange to be natural. Kind of like a pumpkin.
“You came here to see me or you came to film for the show?” he asked bluntly, unhooking his harness.
She twirled a lock of hair—probably extensions. “Can’t it be both?”
“You know I hate the show.” Damn it, he couldn’t unclip himself. He was too pissy and in too much of a hurry.
“I miss you, baby. Can we talk privately?” She put her hand on his belt harness and tried to pull him forward.
“No! Don’t touch me.” He flung himself backward so hard that he slammed onto the mat and lay there for a moment, spread eagle.
Fuck. That was going to make the promo, he just knew it.
She giggled and then bit one of her bloated lips in an attempt to look cute. “We need to talk about you and me.”
“There is no you and me. There hasn’t been for years.”
“I miss you—”
“I don’t miss you, and I don’t want any of this.” He waved an arm at the cameras still filming his every move. “Just because my mother wants me on TV doesn’t mean I want to be there.”
Her eyes widened. “Did you know Mama Precious has cancer?”
Oh, no. He was not getting involved in the damn cancer story line. Not one bit. Ignoring the bait she’d dropped, he clenched his jaw. “I don’t want to be in a relationship with you, Lisa, okay? Just leave me alone.”
Lisa’s hands went to her hips. “I’m not going to give up on you, Sebastian Cabral. You’re going to see that I’m the perfect girlfriend for you. What we had was good.”
What they’d had was brief and annoying. “Go away, Lisa.”
“You just wait. I refuse to take no for an answer.” She tossed her head and stalked away.
Frustrated, he rubbed his forehead. Everyone was staring. He couldn’t come back to this gym again. Hell, he was going to have to convince Hunter that this wasn’t a setup.
What a nightmare. He had to do something to get Lisa off his back. If not, he was going to have to endure months of ambushes like this one. Something had to be done.
* * *
“You sure you’re going to be okay?” Pisa asked again, checking the half-empty apartment one last time before letting the movers leave.
“Totally cool,” Chelsea assured her. She shouldered Pisa’s bag of skate equipment, since that was something that she wanted with her on the plane. A TV could be replaced, but skates that were properly broken in were priceless. “It’s going to be fun having the place to myself for a while.”
“You’re such a shitty liar,” Pisa told her. She scanned the room one last time and then turned to Chelsea. “You can tell your derby wife, honey. Say the word and I’ll get a later flight or something.”
“No. Absolutely not.” Chelsea handed her the heavy bag. “You need to do this. How long have you been waiting for the chance at a promotion? I’d be the worst friend on earth if I held you back.”
“We both know you’re not doing it on purpose.” Pisa’s narrow face was worried. “You have my new address, right?”
“And your phone number. And the emergency numbers of the other girls on the team. And I can go down to a coffee shop if it gets too quiet. Or I’ll get a cat or something. I promise, it’s cool.”
The unhappy look on Pisa’s face didn’t ease up. “You’ll call me if you start to freak out?”
“Absolutely.” Chelsea grabbed her friend by the shoulders and turned her toward the front door. “You have to go, Pisa. Your plane is leaving soon and the movers are waiting for you to wave them off.”
“I know. I just feel guilty . . .” She looked at Chelsea again.
“Feel guilty that you’re leaving the Rag Queens for some shitty Austin team,” she teased, keeping her voice light.
“Austin’s kickass and you know it.” Pisa flung her arms around Chelsea. “I’m going to miss you so much, Chesty LaRude.”
Hot tears formed in Chelsea’s eyes, and she blinked rapidly. “I’m going to miss you, too, Pisa Hit.” She squeezed her friend again. “We’ll see each other at Nationals, though, won’t we?”
“Absolutely.” Pisa lifted her bent arm and tapped her elbow. “I’m keeping this ready to dig into your chest.”
Chelsea giggled through her tears. “I’ll miss you.”
They hugged three more times before Pisa finally left. Chelsea waved her off. Then, she quietly shut the door to the apartment, locked the bolts, and stared dully at what was left of the furniture. She’d moved her soap-making supplies temporarily into Pisa’s room, set up on a folding table. She’d happily chattered to her buddy that she was closer to the kitchen in Pisa’s room, which would make things easier.