I’m sharing the fourth scene from the first chapter of Fighting For My Billionaire Boss today.
I study him, his manscaped face, his colorful suit, his death grip on Gretchen’s purse. Oh shit. I spot the gleam of light off glass. No, not glass. A camera lens. There’s a circle cut out of the side of the bag. “Are you recording—”
“You bitch.” Gretchen slaps me across the face, her reaction catching me by surprise, her nails leaving a stinging trail on my cheek. “Were you fucking him the entire time we were dating?”
She hit me. She fuckin’ hit me. Anger rushes through me, hot and feral and intense. I battle the urge to strike back, to punch her lights out.
I’m not that girl anymore.
“One, I’m a lady.” My tone is as sweet and as calm as I can manage. “Not a… what you called me. I don’t use that type of language,” I inform her prissily. “Two—”
“Fuck you,” she screeches and slaps me again, scratching my other cheek.
I catch her wrist and she gasps, staring at me with wide eyes. “Don’t do that again.” I release her before I inflict more damage. “Or I will—”
The door to my boss’s office opens. Gretchen swings at me.
Distracted, I react on instinct, my arm shooting out. My right fist connects with her left eye. She staggers backward.
Rational thought flees. Adrenaline pumps through my veins. This fight is on.
“That’s for the pain you caused me.” I follow up with my left fist, popping her in her other eye. “And that’s for the pain you caused my boss.”
“Miss Henderson.” His voice originates behind me.
“You man-stealing tramp.” Gretchen blindly flies at me.
“You insane media slut.” I fling myself at her. Our bodies collide. She’s twice my size, a fuckin’ giant of a woman, and she doesn’t go down.
I climb her like a tree, straddle her waist with my legs, and beat on her. The actress makes a valiant attempt to block and to return my punches. She gets lucky a few times, smacking my chest twice and striking my chin once. But her technique is all over the place.
She doesn’t have my experience at brawling. I jab toward her face. She twists, seeking to avoid the punch. Fabric rips. Her perfect breasts escape her skintight dress.
One of the male idiots watching us cheers.
“That’s enough, Miss Henderson.” Brick’s tone is stern.
That isn’t enough. The knuckles of my right hand connect with the tip of Gretchen’s dainty nose. There’s a crunch. She howls. Blood pours down her face.
“You broke my nose.” Gretchen holds up her arms, attempting to protect her face.
She has to do this because I continue to whale on her. My brothers taught me that a fight isn’t over until my opponent is flat on his or her back.
The actress is still standing. I hit her again and again, throwing in some body slams, trying to take her down.
The bitch finally topples backward, taking me with her. My skirts, all of them, ride up to my waist. Cool air sweeps over my panty-clad ass. I punch her once, twice more for good measure, ensuring she doesn’t get back up.
“Easy, scrapper.” Brick straps his arms around my waist and peels me off her.
“I’m not a scrapper,” I yell, flailing my arms and legs. “I’m a fuckin’ lady.”
His body shakes. “Yes, we see that.”
“You might have drawn first blood but I always draw the last.” I ignore Brick and glare at my adversary. “Remember that, bitch.”
“Keep her away from me.” The actress’s nose continues to bleed. Her face is already starting to swell, her dress is shredded and her breasts hang out. She looks like a mess yet she’s still glorious, sexy in that horror-flick female type of way. “She’s out of control.”
“Says the woman who attacked me for no reason.” I wave my fists in the air, not willing to take any more shit from her. “You’re a complete psycho and should be locked up.”
Gretchen’s publicist doesn’t move, doesn’t attempt to help her. My coworkers stare at us with wide eyes and open mouths. Someone had the brains to call security but the security guard just stands there, gaping at us.
“Dave, please escort Gretchen and her publicist out of the building.” Brick takes command of the situation, assigning the crazy woman to the security guard’s care.
The man doesn’t appear happy to have that responsibility.
“Watch her hands,” I advise. “She scratches.”
Brick’s arms tighten around me. “Gretchen, my lawyer will talk to your lawyer.”
“She broke my nose,” the woman moans.
“You also broke a nail,” I holler back at her. “When you raked those talons of yours across my face.”
A man behind me sniggers.
“I’ll pay for a nose job,” Brick assures his ex. “It’s not like it’s your first.” He mumbles this last comment. “My meetings are canceled for the rest of the day.”
People hurry away from the entrance to his office, darting concerned glances at me. They’re all scared shitless of me. They’ve seen what I can do.
Brick saw this, too. He’ll never see me as feminine now.
“You’re coming with me, scrapper.” My boss hauls me toward his private space. “The rest of you, get back to work.”
“I’m a lady.” This protest is weaker.
“Of course, you are.” Brick turns me until I face him. The humor in his eyes fades when he sees the blood dripping down my cheeks. “Fuck. She messed you up.” He slings my body over his shoulder.
“I messed her up more.” I glance behind us. Gretchen remains knocked on her ass. Pride fills me. I definitely won this fight.
But, in doing that, I might have lost all hope of winning Brick’s love.
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Love is worth the fight.
My boss, Brick Armitage, is one of the most eligible bachelors in the city. He’s handsome, young, and the billionaire CEO of an online company. Brick dates stunning supermodels and famous actresses, the most beautiful women on the planet.
I’m determined to be the next woman he kisses, touches, pleases. To land the man I love, I’ll become the delicate lady he seems to prefer. No cussing. No sprawling over the furniture. No punching the pretty out of Brick’s trash-talking ex.
But when I fail at this and the footage of my brawling goes viral, will I lose my sophisticated billionaire forever, or will he realize a scrapper is exactly who he needs?
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