into the night. Her bag banged against her thigh with every angry step that took her from the brightly lit alley behind Savoy to the corner. Her car was in a parking garage two blocks away because Royce was too cheap to provide his employees with on-site parking. There was more than enough room behind the building, but oh no. Only Royce got to park there. So instead she and every other person who worked for him faced a nightly game of dodge-the-douchebags on Broadway. At least she could leave this bullshit behind. Her next job was going to be as far away from Honky Tonk Row as possible.
The sour taste of panic stung the back of her throat. Her next job . . . Wait. Would there be a next job? Holy shit, this was really happening. She’d been fired. Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts connected by a single underlying question. What the hell do I do know?
Call the cops? He’d assaulted Jessica. She’d asked him to stop. Begged him. And he’d kissed her anyway. Rage returned and turned Liv’s blood to liquid fire. Her fingers gripped the strap of her bag so hard that the fake leather squeaked in protest. Men like Royce Preston thought they could get away with anything, didn’t they? And why? Because they did get away with it. They got off on the power.
She needed to talk to someone, but she couldn’t. And not just because of the NDA but because Jessica didn’t want anyone to know. What the hell was she supposed to tell people about why she was fired? Everyone was going to think she couldn’t hack it, that she was just another flameout in the burning hellfire of Royce’s kitchen. After everything she’d endured and worked for, her career would now bear the permanent stain of this.
Of course, that didn’t matter compared to what Jessica was going through. Why wouldn’t Jessica let her report him? Why would she even want to stay working for an abusive asshole?
She stopped at the corner to wait for the light to change. Fucking men.
“Liv?”
She turned around at the sound of her name.
Of course.
Braden-Fucking-Mack.
“What the hell do you want?”
Of all the things he expected Liv to say when he saw her at the corner, it hadn’t been that. He’d been heading back to his club because it was only a few blocks away and because the thought of going home to his empty house was too depressing to consider, and then he saw her. Hoofing up the street like her bag was on fire.
The light changed with a beep, and Liv whipped back around to cross the street. She didn’t even wait for him to answer her question.
“Liv, wait.” He jogged to catch up with her.
She glared over her shoulder in the crosswalk. “Are you following me?”
“No. I’m going to my club. What are you doing?”
“Going home.”
Dread was a sour taste in his mouth. “What happened?”
Liv looked around. “Where’s your date? Did you stuff her in your trunk or something?”
“She went home.”
“Lucky her.”
They’d reached the other sidewalk by now, and she obviously had no intention of slowing to talk to him.
“Liv, wait. Come on.” He grabbed her arm.
She whipped around swinging. “Do. Not. Touch. Me.”
Mack held up his hands, truce-like. “I’m sorry. Jesus, just wait. Talk to me. What happened?”
She scoffed. “What do you think happened?”
“Oh, shit. You got fired? Just now?”
“No, yesterday. I just decided to come in and work today for free because I knew you were going to be there and wanted to make something extra special to throw in your date’s lap.”
He probably deserved the sarcasm. She turned again and started walking.
“Liv, wait.” He was saying that a lot tonight. “Jesus, let me do something. Come to my club. I’ll get you a drink.”
“No thanks. You’ve done enough.”
Gavin was going to kill him over this. “At least let me walk you to your car.”
“Why?”
“It’s not safe this late at night for you to walk to your car alone.”
Liv stopped in the middle of the street and faced him head-on. “Are you kidding me right now?” It was clearly a rhetorical question, because she plowed ahead. “I don’t need you. I’ve been walking into that parking garage by myself for a year now. So why don’t you run along and do whatever it is you do when you’re not spending a thousand dollars on a stupid cupcake.”
“Liv, I’m sorry.”
She whipped around again, and this time it hit him. He could fix