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“Oh, you’ve got a problem with it?” Trent repeated, a little of his confidence seeping from his tone.
“Yeah, I fucking do.” Asher took a step forward. “I have a problem with your squeaky little voice saying her name, I have a problem with you standing so close to her and stopping her from leaving, and I really have a problem with you touching her.”
Trent dropped my arm, flushing with anger at being spoken down to by anyone. The guy thought he was king of the fucking campus, and coming to reality was a harsh shock.
“And who the fuck are you to talk to me like that?” Trent demanded and stormed toward Asher, puffing up his chest and attempting to appear intimidating, but stopping far short of actually getting in Asher’s space. He wanted to act tough but was too chickenshit to seriously threaten a guy like Asher Martino.
“Me?” Asher stepped up to meet Trent’s show of alpha-wannabe energy, instantly dominating him. He wasn’t posturing or trying to seem hard. He just was. He smiled, and it was easy; effortless confidence flowed from him, only making Trent look more inadequate.
Then those dark eyes shot to me. Asher stared me dead in the eye and spoke with a smirk.
“I’m her boyfriend, that’s who. Maybe you’ve heard about me.”
A thrill ran through me, blazing away the stupor I’d felt all day. Yes. My satisfaction spread across my face, a smile I couldn’t contain.
Asher’s lip ticked up in the corner, a hint of a grin at my reaction. “And you are?”
“Trent, Trent Fitzgerald. You might recognize the name, since it’s on the fucking Econ building.”
Asher chuckled. “I’m not really one for Econ, that’s my sister’s thing. Winter and I prefer the art department, but congratulations to your dad for being a big shot around campus and all. It’s a great claim to fame.”
Trent’s eyes bulged, and he opened his mouth to retort, but Asher interrupted.
“Now, going forward, let’s get one thing straight. If you want to talk to my girlfriend, you can go through me. I’ll relay any message you might have for her, okay?”
Trent’s hands clenched into tight fists. “And why would I do that? You can’t give me orders.”
“Oh, that wasn’t an order, it was advice. You see, Winter can be tricky, violent, cunning, unpredictable. I can handle her because,” he let out a chuckle, “I’m the same way. However, I’d worry for your safety if you were to ignore my advice.”
He tipped the point of his stick and pressed it into Trent’s shoulder, pushing him back. “So, best keep your distance. My girl doesn’t like other people in her space…except me.”
Asher’s eyes met mine, and electricity zipped from the top of my spine to the bottom. Then he jerked his head toward the exit.
“Go on home now, Ice Queen. I’ll take it from here.”
Asher
The red cleared from my gaze as Winter disappeared down the hall, glancing back nervously over her shoulder. I’d nearly lost my cool when I’d walked past the end of the hallway and had seen some motherfucker cornering her.
She’d been glorious, as usual, spitting fire from her eyes. Then the guy had slapped her. Slapped her. Getting into the NHL suddenly didn’t seem as important as breaking every bone in this fucker’s body.
Only the relief in Winter’s eyes as she caught sight of me stayed my hand. She smiled at me, and a cool hand of calm clamped around my heart. I could keep my temper, at least until she was out of sight.
“I know you might think you’re her boyfriend, but take it from me, Winter DeLaurie isn’t for you, and she’s more trouble than she’s worth,” Trent said, adjusting his suit jacket. Who the fuck wore a suit jacket to a hockey game? Wasn’t he a student? What an idiot.
“Whether Winter is or isn’t for me doesn’t have anything to do with you. I’m not interested in your take on our relationship. I’m not interested in you at all,” I told him flatly.
“Be that as it may, my opinion matters. Winter and I are getting married,” he said confidently. “Our fathers have always planned it that way.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Trent shot me a scowl.
“I’m sorry, but the image is just funny. I doubt you’d survive it, honestly. Have you met Winter? She’s not the meek kind.”
Trent shrugged. “I don’t care what kind she is. I care about her father’s business, and her family name. That’s how things work in my world.” He raked his eyes over me. “Not that I’d expect you to know anything about the upper classes.”
I studied him a long moment. This was new information. An arranged marriage, in this day and age? The notion was absolutely absurd, yet it would explain why Winter desperately needed a fake boyfriend. This motherfucker had been closing in on her, and she’d panicked. Just the thought of this man pressing unwanted attention on her made me want to break bones and spill blood.
“Maybe I don’t know much, but I know her,” I murmured, tapping him with the hockey stick again. “She’ll never marry you.”
