Seven Teagan
Seven
Teagan
“D id you hear?” Charity asks when we’re standing at the bar at Manuel’s waiting to be served. I ordered an old-fashioned while Charity opted for prosecco.
“Hear what?” I ask absentmindedly. I would give anything not to be here, putting up a front. I don’t want to be any more involved in the tennis world than I already am, but I’m here for the business connections.
“Our special guest has arrived. It’s a big get for Mitzi. She’s over the moon.”
“That’s awesome! I’m glad her husband pulled through.” I hadn’t exactly gotten around to making those calls to my old tennis colleagues, which would have gone nowhere. So this special guest, whoever they are, had better have real star power.
“Pulled through?” Charity laughs derisively. “Teagan, she shattered the glass and if you don’t think so, I invite you to set your eyes on Dominic Fletcher.”
Dominic?
My stomach plummets as if I’m on a high-octane roller coaster.
No, no, no, I must have heard wrong. Surely, the man who is the reason my tennis career blew up isn’t here tonight at the event where I’m trying to rebuild my real estate agency?
This can’t be happening.
However, when I spin around, I see Dominic at the edge of the crowd. My eyes aren’t deceiving me. Exactly how long has he been here? Does he know I’m part of the tournament? If he does, he had the advantage of time to assess me without my knowing. I hate that because I haven’t been able to do the same.
I blink several times and when I do, he’s gone.
Where did he go?
“Isn’t it insane?” Charity asks. “ The Dominic Fletcher. He’s a Grand Slam winner and he’ll be playing at our country club for the Phoenix Desert Smash! This will give us so much cred.”
Charity leaves me to share the great news with others. Meanwhile, my eyes scan the crowd for his tall, dark frame. Dominic is head and shoulders above the rest.
I don’t have to wait long because our eyes make contact from across the room, and he comes straight for me.
It doesn’t take him long to reach me. He does so with several easy strides. Seeing him again almost brings me to my knees, but I catch myself. I close my eyes, hoping it’s a nightmare, but when I blink them open, he’s standing right in front of me. His smoldering ebony gaze pierces through me, making me lose my breath. No one since Dominic looks at me quite like he does, or makes me want to drop my panties. I find myself standing taller despite the wetness forming between my thighs. My nipples tighten of their own accord and push forward in my strapless bra.
“Teagan.” Hearing my name on his lips again makes me think of the times he growled it out when my tongue swirled around his dick.
I find my voice and give it as much levity as I can. “Dominic.”
“You look good.”
“Wish I could say the same.”
His mouth quirks into a grin. “Still bristly, I see.”
“I have a right to be,” I say. “We didn’t exactly end on good terms. In fact, it was quite the opposite.”
He nods as if recalling the horrible argument the entire world heard, and how afterward I was labeled as the stereotypical angry Black woman.
“I had no idea you were going to be here,” Dominic says. “I’m doing my agent a favor.”
“Lending your star power?” My words drip with sarcasm. I’m angry. Dominic got to live the life I wanted—that I deserved—while I had to pick up the pieces and figure out a new game plan.
His eyes narrow. “Can’t we be civil, Teagan? It’s been over a decade.”
“That’s easy for you to say, Dominic. You didn’t lose everything. I did.”
“Teagan—” Dominic wants to say more, but Charity interrupts us.
“Dominic Fletcher, as I live and breathe. It’s so great to have you here with us,” Charity gushes.
Dominic gives her a cursory nod.
The tension is palpable and Charity looks back and forth between us. “Wait a second. Do you two know each other?”
“Something like that,” I mutter.
“Well, I’m sorry to interrupt,” Charity replies, “but I need to steal Dominic away so we can introduce him.”
“Of course,” I respond. “I wouldn’t dream of stealing the spotlight from our illustrious guest.”
Dominic’s eyes spark at my words. “We’ll speak later, Teagan.”
As if. I don’t want to talk to him, much less see him or hear his praises lauded by Charity or Mitzi. Having him here, seeing him again, reminds me of all my old failures. How l let myself down, let my parents down. Intellectually, I know the accident wasn’t my fault. I had no idea when I did that backhand that I would lose my footing, fall and injure my meniscus.
What I should have done after the injury was focus on my recovery and rehabilitation. Instead, I was too focused on me and Dominic. I worried that not being present in our tennis bubble would make me lose him. I acted out because of fear and insecurity. I blamed him for winning and being what I couldn’t be. How was I to know he still had his microphone on and everyone heard my plea for him to stay and see me through my injuries? They heard a desperate, clinging woman who became angry when he wouldn’t stay. Who became even more irate when she realized the audio and cameras were rolling.
Dammit!
I hate these old feelings of not being good enough. I was made to feel that way my entire life. My father always pushed me to succeed, to be better than the rest, and when I finally wasn’t, he felt vindicated that he was right. I would never amount to anything. And now having Williams & Associates on the rocks has me on edge.
I force myself, on wooden legs, to walk out of the restaurant and outside onto the terrace with a beautiful view of the mountains, but not before grabbing a glass of champagne. I want to down it like a shot, but instead, I sip on the crisp drink. If Dominic is around, I need to keep my wits about me. No one here seems to know about my past with him, at least not yet. Fortunately for me, the terrace is empty because everyone is inside, no doubt eager to rub shoulders with Dominic.
With his popularity, if anyone sees us together, they are bound to get suspicious. The last thing I want is to remind the press about that old footage of our fight because it’s still out there. I don’t want to become viral or a laughingstock with memes made about me. Cancel culture is real. I remember how hurtful my last scramble with the media was and I don’t want a repeat.
Pull it together, Teagan!
This tournament is not about Dominic. It’s about schmoozing and socializing with the higher echelon to garner business for my brokerage. You’re not here to revisit a past love or go down memory lane. After I give myself a good pep talk, I’m about to go inside, when a large presence blocks my path.
Glancing up, I see Dominic. I allow myself a moment to take another look at him. His features have sharpened over the years, emphasizing the square cut of his chin and the fullness of his lips. A long-ago memory surfaces, of me kissing him, my fingers clutching his head as I arched my naked hips toward his.
I jerk myself backward, away from him. “Not now.”
“When?”
“How about never?” I respond sarcastically. “I mean, do we really have anything to say? We share a past, big deal. Everyone has one.” I sound poised and together. Score!
“Not like ours,” Dominic states. “If we’re going to work together in this tournament, don’t you think we should hash this out?”
“Can’t you pull out and say something has come up?”
“That would be unprofessional. I keep my commitments.”
My brow rises. “Do you really?”
His ebony eyes sharpen on me with cold intensity. It makes me feel as if I’m being examined under a microscope. “Teagan—” my name on his lips is coated with icy disdain “—your question is the precise reason why we need to clear the air.”
My head snaps back. “I think not.”
I walk forward and attempt to push past him, but his body is hard and unmovable. His hand touches my bare arm and sparks ignite in my nerve endings. I let out a sharp breath that to me sounds surprisingly loud. Dominic’s gaze fixes on me, on my mouth, and his eyes glimmer like molten lava. I hate myself for feeling the horrifying thrill of being alive for the first time in years.
I’ve been with other men and enjoyed it, but I was first introduced to unbearable heights of pleasure with Dominic. The fact that my body is having a tingling response means I’ve been too long without sexual contact. I’ll need to remedy that because I refuse to accept that this feeling is the excitement of Dominic’s touch.
I glance down to where his hand still grasps my arm, and he yanks it back. “I’m sorry, but I disagree. If you want, we can do this right now where anyone can hear us or we can go someplace quiet.”
His comment reminds me of how my life blew up over a decade ago due to curious ears. “Fine. Where?”
Dominic reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, producing a business card. “Tonight, my place. I’ll meet you after the party.”
I snatch the business card from him, and this time he steps aside, allowing me to pass. As I do, I catch the intoxicating scent of cedarwood, which always made me horny.
I won’t be there tonight. Nothing will come of our meeting later. I know exactly who he is.
He’s the same callous bastard who left me when everyone turned against me. He can burn in hell for all I care.