We'll Always Have Paris

by Evilution

Sequel to The Simple Life. It’s only the beginning for Paris as her adventures in OVW begin. Randy has forgiven her for that fateful night with Paul, but can she forgive herself? New men, new drama, but The Legend Killer won't give up without a fight.

10. The Letter

Chapter 10 – The Letter

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it. Thank you to everyone who has given me support with my recent issues, especially justagirl8225, wrestlinggal, tempest-races, and WWEchica. Finally, we get to see what's in the letter…I hope you guys aren't disappointed. Enjoy!

Dave drove to The Blue Bomb with Paris in the passenger seat and the Tough Enough boys in the back. It was a raucous drive to say the least. When they arrived, John and Matt immediately sought out Joey, Alexis, and Jillian. Paris stuck close to Dave as she greeted everyone, stopping only to chat with Tammy and Jeff. Paris had already finished one margarita and was halfway done with another before she noticed Adam across the bar, surrounded by what could only be described as a very motley crew of individuals. He had his arm around a blond girl, whom Paris noted upon closer inspection, was Beth Phoenix. She and Chris Masters must be off again, Paris mused. She was even more surprised to see that the little group included Mark Magnus, who seemed to be at ease and chatting amiably with Adam. Funny that they'd tried to rip each other's heads off a mere two days ago. She finished her drink and left Dave to visit with Tammy and Jeff while she sauntered over to say hello to her 'boyfriend.'

"Hello, Adam," Paris said, approaching the group.

All eyes focused on her, including Nicole Fink and her fellow blonds as well as Mark Magnus, Shawn Daivari, and the Bolin Services guys. Kenny Bolin sniffed disdainfully as Mark and Sean O'Haire gave her a thorough raking with their eyes. Paris noticed that Nicole was draped around Sean like a cheap coat. Apparently, she and Magnus weren't exclusive.

"Paris," Adam greeted, his grin overly toothy, his arm never leaving Beth's waist. "Done 'Animal'-sitting?" he asked sarcastically.

"Actually, Dave needed a place to stay so I offered him our couch," Paris replied with exaggerated sweetness.

Mark snorted. "I bet that's not all she offered him."

Nicole, Beth, Kenny, and the other girls tittered at Mark's comment as Adam smirked sardonically. He certainly wasn't jumping to defend her honor this time.

"Excuse me, am I in The Twilight Zone or something?" Paris demanded. "Didn't you just kick the crap out of him two days ago?"

Everyone laughed, as if it was some big joke and Paris was the only one who wasn't in on it.

"Adam and I came to the conclusion that it's not in anyone's best interest for us to be enemies," Mark stated. "We decided to bury the hatchet."

"How nice," Paris retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Adam, can I talk to you…alone?"

"What's wrong, Paris? Dave Batista isn't around to keep you company?" Adam mocked. "According to…reliable sources, he was entertaining you plenty in his locker room earlier."

Paris scoffed, glancing quickly over her shoulder. Much to her dismay, she couldn't see Dave anywhere near Tammy and Jeff. He must have gone to restroom or something. Trying not to look nervous, she faced Adam, secretly wishing The Animal was nearby if this potentially volatile situation got out of control.

"Synn's lying," she replied casually. "She was all over Dave, so I pretended that I was…you know, with him to get rid of her."

"A likely story," Nicole interjected rudely.

"Fuck off, you bitch!" Paris spat, all semblances of manners gone.

A chorus of 'Oohs' echoed around the group as Kenny Bolin dramatically sighed and put his hands over his ears.

"Listen, Paris," Adam said as he let go of Beth, his voice bitter and cruel. "It's pretty obvious that you're good at 'pretending.' Why don't you go 'pretend' a little more with Dave Batista? What, Paris? You've already banged Trips…just keep at it and you'll have worked your way around his whole circle of protégés."

"Now, Adam," Mark said with mock concern. "You're being a little harsh, aren't you? I mean…come on! Look at her…she's hot. We all know Batista's the weak link in Evolution. He doesn't have Ric Flair's intelligence, Triple H's skill, or Orton's charisma. Can you blame the guy for wanting a piece of this?"

Adam laughed and shook his head. "No, I guess I can't," he replied, very Edge-like.

"And after all," Mark went on. "There's no need for you and Paris to fight. You and I were able to bury the hatchet. Why don't you go blow off some steam with Beth while Paris and I go bury something else?" He slipped his arms around Paris' waist, pulling her roughly against him.

"Get your hands off of me, you pig!" Paris exclaimed, putting her hands against his chest, struggling wildly.

"Oh, she's feisty!" Mark taunted. "Do you like it rough, Paris? Does she, Adam?"

Adam chuckled. "Just give it to her up the ass and she'll putty in your hands."

Paris glared at Adam incredulously as Mark began to force her towards a side exit. Her eyes frantically combed the bar for Dave, John, Joey…anyone. Evolution's Enforcer was still nowhere in sight and Tammy was far away on the dance floor, gyrating to the music with Jeff.

"I can definitely oblige with that," Mark went on, in reference to Adam's comment. "Can you scream for me, Paris?"

"Oblige this, asshole! " Paris shouted, lifting her knee to nail him in the groin.

Mark crumpled to the ground like a house of cards as Paris righted herself and strode boldly up to Adam. He looked down at her, his gray eyes cold and ruthless, flickering over her with contempt and disinterest. She reared back and slapped him as hard as she could, her hand stinging from the impact. Adam touched his jaw gingerly and then, laughed mockingly.

"Prick!" she spat before stomping over to the table where Tammy and Jeff had just met up with Dave, who was returning from wherever it was that he had been.

"What's wrong?" the DC native asked, noticing the tears brimming in her eyes.

"Just get me out of here…please, get me out of here before I humiliate myself anymore."

Dave rose and escorted her to the door without question as Tammy and Jeff glanced across the bar at the ensuing commotion that Paris left behind. Adam had a red imprint of a hand on his cheek and Mark Magnus was lying on the floor, holding his balls. Obviously, Hurricane Paris had just passed through The Blue Bomb. Tammy smirked, even though Adam's look made her uneasy. He had that feral, predatory look that made him seem like something out of a Blade movie. The exec assistant had a feeling that whatever happened between him and Paris was far from over.

The ride to Paris' house was silent…Dave keeping his eyes on the road while Paris sniffed audibly, trying to hide from him that she was crying. He slowly pulled the Durango up in front of the house and accompanied her inside, amidst protests that he should probably go to a hotel rather than risk running into Adam. Dave refused, objecting to leaving her alone. They sat on the couch, his huge arms enveloping her as she tearfully poured out the entire story of what happened at the club.

"Dave, why does everyone think I'm some cheap piece of ass with no feelings?" Paris cried against his chest, breaking the silence after she had finished her story.

Dave's jaw twitched. What he wouldn't give to beat the shit out of Adam Copeland at that moment? "Because they're assholes," he replied simply.

"No, really…why?"

Dave sighed. "Because they see an uncannily beautiful woman, who's very passionate, who radiates sexiness, who lets everyone know that she's not afraid of anyone or anything. They're intimidated, so they call you a slut."

"But I am afraid, Dave! I'm afraid of everything! The ring, the crowds, the cameras, Synn, Nicole, Randy, the pain…everything! It's just all so hard…the punishment in the ring and the bullshit that goes on outside of it."

Dave nodded as he stroked her hair tenderly. Obviously, playtime was over. "Of course it's hard," he said. "That's what makes it great. When you're standing in the gorilla position, dripping sweat, feeling like you're gonna pee your pants or puke all over yourself…then, you hear the crowd and it all disappears. The fear, the doubt…it all goes away and you're there for one reason…to entertain. If it wasn't hard, everyone would do it."

Paris sniffed and laughed weakly. "You sound like Paul."

"Who do you think said those words to me when I was in doubt? Not just to me…to Randy, to Cena, to every one of us. You might dislike Paul, but know this about him…he loves this business. He eats, sleeps, and breathes wrestling. He'd die for it. So when you say you're scared…well, we're all scared. But we know what we have to do. You know what you have to do, Paris…you just don't wanna face it. You don't think you're strong enough, but you are."

Paris wiped her face with her hands. She knew he was right. But if she was so strong, why did she feel so weak and helpless? Why did she let Adam dominate her? Why did she let Mark and Nicole and Synn intimidate her? Why couldn't she face Randy?

"I'm gonna go to bed," she said, rising and ending the discussion. "There's blankets and stuff in the hall closet. Goodnight, Dave."

Dave nodded sadly. Why was she so broken? Because she kept letting everyone use her. Why couldn't she heal? Because she wouldn't let herself. She wanted to wear her pain like a badge, a scarlet letter. There was passion inside of her…Dave had tapped it tonight. Why couldn't she just let go? Orton was waiting for her…why couldn't she just run to him? Fear, doubt, pride. She'd already defeated herself before she even stepped through the ropes.

"Goodnight, Paris."

As she climbed the stairs, her legs felt like lead. If only to sink into bed and forget the entire night. Well, not all of it. Just what happened at the club. She walked into the bathroom and stripped off her clothes. Staring at the mirror, she splashed cold water on her face, a few drops settling on her red velvet bra. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her carry-on bag on the closet floor. The letter. She had to know. She wouldn't be able to sleep unless she read it. Unzipping the front pocket, she reached in and sure enough, there it was. A crisp white envelope that said 'Paris' in Paul's distinct script. She tore it open, not bothering with preliminaries as her eyes scanned the page, tears forming in her violet orbs.

Dear Paris,

I know you'll probably be in OVW before you read this and I hope you're doing well. I wasn't wrong when I suggested to Vince that he make you a diva. And despite what I said, OVW's not so bad. Jim Cornette will have your back as long as you work hard, keep your nose clean, and avoid the bad elements…trust me, you'll know who they are. You're not as dumb as you act, Paris.

She smirked. Paul's version of a compliment.

I won't sugarcoat this letter or insult your intelligence by lying to you. I'm not sorry that we hooked up. I feel bad that things went down the way they did…and I never feel bad about anything. Something about you got to me and I don't know what it is, but I can't forget. Obviously, you're not the kind of girl that a guy can 'love and leave.' It's not in my character to show weakness…and I mean my real character, not the character I play on TV. Don't get me wrong…Triple H and I are very similar…we're both cold and ruthless, but intensely passionate about things we care about. We're one and the same. I can't, nor will I ever, separate from him. Stephanie couldn't deal with it…most women can't.

But I digress. Things have a way of working themselves out, even when it seems like they're spiraling out of control. Considering everything that's happened between us, I wish nothing but the best for you. You're gonna be great and you know why I know that? Because I picked you and I am that damn good. The bet was stupid and immature, an act that I truly am ashamed of…and I have no shame. Please accept this small token as an apology if you will. The amount is only fitting, as is the intent, since I did ruin a couple of your more personal effects in moments of blind passion.

Paris opened a smaller red envelope and removed a gift card from Victoria's Secret. The amount…200 dollars. She smiled through her tears, but read on.

In closing, I just want to say that I know you won't disappoint me. I care about you, Paris, and if you ever need anything…ANYTHING…at any time, day or night, I'm only a phone call away. You call, I'll be there.

Your friend, Paul M. Levesque

She clutched the letter to her chest, an ironic sob mixed with laughter escaping her lips. Paul cared about her? Yes, Paul cared about her. He never once said he was sorry. He never once said he loved her. But he cared about her.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph…what now? What the fuck was she going to do now?

The next morning…

Paris awoke with a pounding headache, her mouth feeling like cotton. She glanced at the clock…it was past noon! She'd totally missed training and everything. She flung back the covers and bounded downstairs, disoriented and frantic, not caring that she was only in her bra and panties.

She saw the blankets neatly folded on the couch and it all came flooding back. Her interlude with Dave in the locker room, her fight with Adam at the club, and the letter from Paul. It was all coming back with a vengeance.

The house was quiet. She glanced in Adam and Jeff's room. Adam's bed hadn't been slept in, but his clothes from last night were on the floor, so obviously, he'd been home. There was no sign of Mike either. Duh…he was in class…where she was supposed to be. She spotted a note on the coffee table. Snatching it, she ripped the envelope open and read it quickly.

Dear Paris,

Thanks for the hospitality. I slept well…after you stopped crying, that is. Yeah, I heard you, but don't be embarrassed. I wish I could make all the pain stop, but I can't. I'm sure you'll find Paul's letter eventually. Don't let it upset you…he can be an ass, but deep down, I can't help but think the guy has some good qualities. Don't worry about me and Ames…things will work out and even if they don't, she and I'll always be friends. Adam didn't come home last night, but he showed up with Tammy and Jeff this morning when I was leaving. He looked pretty hung over, but he didn't start any shit with me. In fact, he was downright polite. Miz left for class early this morning…I told him to tell Fit you were sick. I knew you wouldn't be up for sparring today. I know you have a lot to figure out…what with Randy, Paul, and Adam. I'm sorry that I complicated it further by throwing myself into the mix, but you don't have to worry…our secret is safe as far as I'm concerned. Let me know if you need anything and I don't care if Adam reads this. We'll talk soon.

Love, your friend…Dave

Paris smiled, thinking to herself that Dave Batista was probably the sweetest guy she knew. She was overcome with guilt over her actions the previous night. As strong as the feelings were that he evoked in her, she hoped that he and Amy worked things out. In her opinion, he was so much more of a catch than Matt Hardy. But Paris was biased. She'd never quite hit it off with Matt and she didn't have close to a decade of history with him like Amy did. She was no one to judge.

Padding into the kitchen, she grabbed a soda and fed Witty some lettuce. She filled Liger's dishes out on the back porch before going back upstairs and downing four ibuprofen. She tucked both Paul's letter and Dave's note into her locking journal and hid the keys safely in the bottom of her purse. Lastly, she called Tammy, who had indeed taken the day off, and told her that she hadn't shown up for class because she was sick. Of course, Tammy already knew, having talked to Dave and having received a call from Fit after he learned of Paris' condition from Mike. Paris went to hang up, but Tammy stopped her. Apparently, she and Jeff were having lunch with Adam and he wanted to talk to her.

"Baby, are you there?" the Canadian's voice echoed through the phone.

Paris sighed. "Yeah," she confirmed, trying to keep her voice even.

"Babe, I'm so sorry…I was really drunk…"

"That's no excuse." She was ashamed that his hurtfulness was affecting her so badly.

"I know it's not, but you weren't innocent either. Synn said…"

"I told you what happened with Synn! It was all an act, but you didn't believe me." She winced, knowing she was lying. "You let Mark Magnus treat me like I was some whore…"

"I know and I'll make him apologize…I promise…"

"Whatever, Adam…I don't want to talk about it."

"OK…well, you rest and we'll talk when I get home, OK?"

"Whatever."

"Oh, Paris?"

"Yeah?" she replied wearily.

"I thought up a costume for us…you know, for Tammy's party. We can go as Shawn Michaels and Sensational Sherri."

He sounded so enthusiastic. Of course, he just assumed that everything was OK and that they were still going to the Halloween party together. Paris rubbed her forehead and sank down on the bed.

"That's great, Adam," she replied weakly. What was the point in fighting him?

"I'll see you later, OK?"

"OK."

She disconnected the phone and lay down on the bed. Tears spilled out of her violet eyes, soaking the pillow. Why was she so weak? Because it was easier to just deal with Adam, knowing that there were no deep feelings on either side. It was easier to be detached than to have to face Randy and his mistrust, or Paul and his revelations that he cared about her, or now, Dave and his gentle, but powerful, desire for her. It was just easier with Adam. There was no real commitment, no strings attached, no guilt. He probably screwed Beth last night and Paris found that she didn't even care. It was easier to be cold and hollow. If she didn't care, then she couldn't get hurt. Being aloof and distant was easier. Not more pleasant, just easier.

Before she knew it, she had drifted off to sleep. She awoke with the sun beginning to set through the west window over her bed. She could hear people downstairs, but ignoring them, she stumbled into the bathroom. It was hot and sticky, unusually so for late October, even in the South. She stripped off her bra and panties and stepped under a lukewarm shower. She couldn't believe she'd slept all day. The throbbing in her head had given way to a dull ache. She just wanted to disappear for a week or so.

Adam was downstairs when he heard Paris' shower turn on. Jeff and Mike were engrossed in a video game and Tammy was dozing on the couch. He ducked briefly into his room and then, went into the kitchen where he poured Paris a glass of white wine. Before heading upstairs, he dropped a small tablet into the glass. Just a muscle relaxant. Obviously, she was under stress and needed some kind of relief. More than anything, he wanted to make peace with her. Inwardly, he was seething with rage and jealousy. He was angry that Dave Batista had slept here, he was angry at Paris for slapping him, and he was angry about her indifference towards him on the phone earlier. But on the other hand, The Animal had slept on the couch, the slap was pretty much well-deserved, and her indifference wasn't surprising considering the way he had treated her the night before. These factors still didn't keep him from being more than a little irritated. Paris had too many distractions in her life. Hopefully, now that Evolution was back together, he wouldn't have to worry about Paul's lackey showing up here anymore. Paris could concentrate on her training, her debut, and…on him.

He entered the bathroom quietly and set the wine on the vanity. Slipping off his track pants, he climbed into the shower, taking the wine glass with him. He touched Paris' shoulder and she flinched, but only momentarily.

"Paris, look at me," he ordered, shielding the wine from the spraying water.

Paris turned around and stared at him. There was no emotion in her eyes. He kissed her. Her lips yielded, but there was no fire.

"Baby, I'm looking you in the eye and telling you I'm sorry. I already talked to Mark and I told him if he wants things to stay cool with us, he'll apologize to you."

She smiled weakly. "I appreciate it, Adam."

"So you forgive me?"

"What's not to forgive? You were drunk, right?" It was futile to fight.

He smiled toothily. "Yeah, I was…really drunk. It won't happen again."

She nodded, deciding not to bring up Beth at that moment. He handed her the wine.

"Here…drink this. It'll help you relax."

"Thanks," she replied, taking a sip.

"Drink up," Adam urged. "You're freezing. This will warm you up." His fingers tipped the glass to her mouth slightly.

Paris downed the wine and Adam set the glass outside the tub. She turned back around and let the stinging spray hit her chest and stomach as Adam's hands kneaded her shoulders.

"God, you're tense," Adam remarked, his hands working the knots in her neck. "I think you need a weekend off. At least, we can kick back and have some fun tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Paris murmured, her eyes closed.

"Yeah…Steph and Shawn's wedding."

Paris' shoulders slumped forward. She had completely forgotten about the wedding. Adam, Tammy, and Jeff had all taken the weekend off and Adam had been talking about it for some time. Paris wouldn't have been lying if she said that she wasn't looking forward to the festivities. Paul's close association with Vince and Stephanie's futile hope of making peace between her future husband and his ex-best friend pretty much guaranteed that Paul would be there. And if Paul was there, most likely Randy would be there. Paris was apprehensive enough about seeing them again…she didn't need the added stress of said reunion being at Stephanie McMahon's wedding of all places. But before she could brood on it further, Adam's voice distracted her.

"You didn't forget, did you?" the blond Canadian questioned.

"No…no, of course not," Paris replied absently as she tried to focus on the water swirling down the drain. For some reason, when she opened her eyes, her mind was clouded with cobwebs. "I'm sure it'll be fun," she babbled on. "When are we leaving again?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," Adam said, watching her suspiciously, his mouth curving into a smile as he steadied her with his strong hands. "Paris, are you OK?"

Paris rubbed her eyes and shook her head, trying to emerge from the fog she felt creeping into her mind. Suddenly, the bathtub floor blurred as she fell forward, a muscular arm catching her before everything went black.

Friday morning…

Paris opened her eyes and blinked several times as she tried to reorient herself to her surroundings. Her mouth was dry and her eyes felt fuzzy, but most of all, she couldn't drown out the ringing sound in her ears. Shifting slightly, she realized that the annoying sound wasn't in her head…it was her cell phone. Grabbing blindly for the offending object, she managed to grasp it after knocking a couple of unlit candles off of her nightstand.

"Hello?" she mumbled, sounding as if she were waking up from a bad night of drinking.

"You just decide to take the whole weekend off, Sleeping Beauty?" Tammy's cheerful voice echoed through the phone.

"No," Paris snapped. She rolled over grumpily and winced, arching her back in pain. Not only was there a nasty telltale burning sensation between her legs, but her back felt like little needles were sticking her through the mattress. Wrinkling her nose, she observed that the bed was slightly damp and hardened pink stuff was congealed on her satin sheets. What the hell…she thought in bewilderment.

"Are you still there?" Tammy droned on.

"Y…yes," Paris stammered, running a hand through her hair. "Tammy, what time is it?"

"A little past eleven."

"Holy shit…I'm supposed to be in training!"

"Umm, yeah…that's why I called."

Paris was confused. Something had happened here, but she wasn't sure what it was. She remembered taking a shower with Adam and everything was blurry after that. Adam…where the hell was Adam?

"Listen, Tammy, I'm really sorry…I just overslept. I'm…something…"

"Paris, are you OK? You sound a little disoriented. Were you and Adam drinking last night?"

"No, I…I just had a glass of wine and…"

"You might as well just take the day off," Tammy sighed. "Since we are leaving for San Antonio this afternoon…"

"Tammy, can I call you back?" Paris replied distractedly, cutting her friend off before she could finish her sentence.

"Sure…"

"OK, bye."

Paris disconnected her phone and made a beeline for the bathroom. She had to pee like there was no tomorrow and after she did it, she was sorry because the burning was so bad she wanted to die. What the fuck…she thought, becoming angry that she couldn't remember what had gotten her into such a state. Sighing, she splashed some cold water on her face and began to brush her teeth. As she was rinsing, something caught her eye. Trailing down the front of her chest were a string of uneven red patches and as she turned awkwardly, trying to look at her backside in the mirror, she noticed that they were all over her shoulders and back, along with a very attractive (sarcastic) bite mark on her upper right shoulder. Facing herself again, she observed that her ring was missing from her left nipple. What in the hell happened to me? Grabbing her robe, she thrust her arms into the sleeves and turned to exit her bathroom, but not before something got her attention. Stooping, she picked the wine glass up off of the floor and sniffing it, noted a suspicious white residue in the bottom. Suddenly, it dawned on her why she was so confused.

"Adam!" she screamed, racing down the stairs and through the living room to her boyfriend's bedroom. "Adam! Where are you?"

Cocking her head slightly, she heard noises in the kitchen, like someone was moving around and she heard Liger bark. She knew that Adam must have heard her shouting. Was he just toying with her by not answering? She definitely wasn't in the mood to be toyed with.

Stomping down the hall, Paris entered the kitchen to see Adam, shirtless and in sweats, feeding bits of lunchmeat to Liger, who begged unashamedly.

"Morning, baby…"

"Don't 'baby' me!" Paris shouted. "Did you drug me?"

Adam looked bewildered and then, offended. His eyes narrowed skeptically. "What do you mean did I drug you?"

"There was something in this wine! Don't deny it! I was taking a shower and I drank the wine and after that, I…I don't remember anything…" Paris stared at Adam's chest curiously. His tanned skin was covered with the same red patches that she had on her own body. However, she was too angry to bother asking him about it.

"Baby, you were so tense," Adam explained soothingly. "It was just a muscle relaxant. I didn't think it would make you black out…you seemed perfectly in control of your faculties last night…" He cocked his eyebrow suggestively.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Paris snapped.

"Do I have to spell it out?" Adam replied evenly, meeting her gaze.

Paris fought back the tears at the thought that she no longer had control in this relationship, if she ever had at all. Now, Adam could go so far as to put her to sleep if he wanted to and she wouldn't remember anything. She was at the mercy of what he told her had happened.

"Did we have…sex?" Paris asked, finding it difficult to finish the question.

"You mean you don't remember?"

"Stop answering my questions with questions, Adam! I'm dead fucking serious here! What in the hell did you do to me last night?"

"Now, just a goddamn minute!" Adam exploded, slamming a spoon on the counter and causing Paris to jump. "Is this the thanks I get for trying to be a thoughtful boyfriend and relieve some of your stress, brought on by none other than your good buddy, Dave Batista, I might add? Is this how I get treated for caring about you? For wanting to make you feel better? For trying to help you forget about your problems for five seconds? It was a muscle relaxant, Paris! Simple and harmless. I use them for my neck…Jeff uses them for his shoulder. They're prescribed and totally legal…no harm, no foul! Don't stand here and fucking treat me like I'm some kind of degenerate who…who took you against your will or some bullshit like that!"

"But you gave it to me without my permission! Without me knowing it!"

"And how the fuck was I supposed to know that it'd turn you into a raving nymphomaniac? 'Oh, Adam…spank me, pull my hair…fuck me harder!'"

"Shut up! You know I'm not like that…"

"Do I?"

"Yeah, you do!"

Adam inhaled sharply, desperately wanting to put her spoiled ass in its place, but he ended up stepping out of character and taking the high road, trying to soothe her bruised ego, placate her as best he could.

"Look, Paris," Adam began calmly. "I never meant to hurt you and maybe what I did was stupid, but I was only doing it because I care. You've been so unhappy lately and I can't help but think that it's because Dave kept coming down here. Those guys hurt you, baby, and you act like you just want to forget what they did to you. Dave may be a nice guy, but he's just as guilty as Randy and Paul are. They all took advantage of you, they all lied to you…I just wanted to make it all go away. I was such a jerk at the Bomb, I just wanted to make it up to you." He hung his head dejectedly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, pleased that he had turned in another Oscar-worthy performance for Paris' benefit.

Paris immediately felt guilty, which was exactly how Adam had hoped she would feel. Maybe he was just trying to help, but she couldn't ignore the little voice trying to warn her that she was only being played again.

"Adam, I…I just don't understand…"

"Let's just forget about it," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Just understand that I care about you…I love you. I won't do it again unless I have your permission, OK?"

Paris blinked. Had he just told her he loved her? Who was he trying to kid? She knew he didn't love her, just as she didn't love him. And even though what he did was stupid, Paris just couldn't bring herself to believe that he meant any harm. Adam was jealous, insecure, and insensitive, but she didn't honestly believe that he was malicious or that he would intentionally hurt someone.

"So do you forgive me?" Adam asked, rubbing her arms.

"Just don't do it again," Paris replied, setting the wine glass on the counter for emphasis. Turning, she went to exit the kitchen as Adam tried to hide his irritation that she hadn't said whether she forgave or not.

"Oh, Adam?"

"Yeah?"

"What are these red marks from?" She pulled back her robe to show him the marks on her shoulders and chest.

Adam smirked somewhat as he brushed his hand down his abs. "Candle wax," he stated simply. "And in case you're wondering what happened to your nipple ring…it's on your dresser. I was pulling on it and the bead popped out, so you told me to take it out."

Paris nodded, not sure if she should be embarrassed or angry or both. Despite her outward demeanor, she was seething inside and nothing would ever erase the feeling of betrayal she felt at that moment. Adam had violated a trust and basically, he didn't think it was a big deal that he had done so. He wasn't sorry, he had no remorse…all he had was complete and total control…and he knew it. Paris would never know exactly what she had done last night. Apparently, she had acted like an unadulterated whore, but she only had Adam's word to go by. There were no recollections of her own that she could count on.

A few hours later, Paris had showered, dressed, and packed for her trip to San Antonio for Shawn and Stephanie's wedding. She was waiting in front of the house with Adam when Jeff and Tammy pulled up in Tammy's red Cavalier, and the blond executive assistant began transferring her luggage into the Durango as Jeff hurried inside to grab his bags. She had to admit that she felt considerably better, although her hostility toward Adam had still not completely abated. Tammy noticed the tension and once they were in the air, she followed Paris to one of the cramped bathrooms and locked the door behind them.

"OK, spill it," the OVW executive demanded.

"Spill what?"

"Paris, I wasn't born yesterday. What's with all the tension between you and Adam? I thought you guys made up."

"We did, but…"

"But what?"

"Can you keep a secret?"

Tammy rolled her eyes. "Of course."

"Adam drugged me," Paris whispered.

"What do you mean he drugged you?" Tammy asked in horror.

"He put drugs in my drink and then, he had sex with me. I don't remember any of it, but there's candle wax stuck all over my sheets and I've got these red marks…I don't know. According to Adam, I acted like some kinky slut who couldn't get enough his punishment, if you know what I mean."

"Paris, are you serious?" Tammy exclaimed.

"Ssh! No, I made it up just because that's what I like to do…and I wanted to see how you'd react. Of course, I'm serious."

"Did you confront him?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"He laid a guilt trip on me…like he was only trying to help me relieve my stress and I was acting like a total bitch to even suggest that he did something wrong or immoral or something like that!"

"Wrong? Immoral? Try illegal…come on, Paris!"

"Tammy, I don't want to make a big deal out of this. I don't plan on being with Adam forever…I just want things to be peaceful while I'm living there."

"Fuck peaceful! I can move you to another house. Better yet, why don't you just get back together with Orton and you wouldn't have to worry about this shit?"

"You know that's not an option," Paris replied. "And I don't want to get into why it isn't an option," she went on when she saw Tammy open her mouth to protest.

"So what do we do?"

"We aren't doing anything," the OVW diva explained. "I can handle Adam. I just have to resign myself to the fact that I no longer have control and I have to be on my toes. Trust me, Tammy, OK? I don't hate Adam and I don't want to make an enemy out of him, but…"

"But you're giving him the benefit of the doubt?"

"He's been acting so erratic lately…I just know it's not the real Adam. He's what I need right now to forget Randy, OK?"

"I hope you know what you're doing, Paris."

"Just don't say anything to Jeff…or Randy…or anyone for that matter."

"When do I ever talk to Orton?" Tammy said sarcastically.

"Promise you won't say anything."

"OK, OK…I promise, but if this shit keeps up…"

"It won't, OK?"

Paris gave Tammy's hand a quick squeeze before the girls exited the bathroom and returned to their seats, amidst teasing from Adam and Jeff that even on an airplane, they had to go to the bathroom in pairs.

They landed in San Antonio around five o'clock and after checking into the Marriot, the four young people went down to the hotel restaurant and had a pleasant dinner before Tammy and Jeff both announced that they were tired and were going to turn in early. It was unseasonably hot, so Paris had changed into a pair of low cut vintage Luckys, a brown halter top with gold sequins and beading, and a pair of high-heeled brown sandals. As they walked into the bar, the diva received several appreciative glances from male patrons, which didn't go unnoticed by Adam. They sat at the bar for a while before they were interrupted by raucous shouting as Matt Hardy, Jay Reso, and Chris Irvine entered the bar. Paris' eyes lit up. At least, Trish would be with Chris and she'd have someone to talk to while Adam palled around with his buddies. But on further observation, the Las Vegas native didn't see the Canadian diva anywhere. Nor did she see Matt's current squeeze, her old friend, Amanda Jones.

Chris, Jay, and Matt all approached and said hello with Chris giving her a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"You're looking good, Junior," Y2J remarked, tapping her upper arm. "Nice muscles."

"Thanks, Jerky," Paris teased back. "Where's Miss Trish?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Oh, she's up in the room. Her Aunt Flo arrived early, if you know what I mean."

Paris looked confused. She didn't know Trish was bringing her aunt. Chris smirked and she got the feeling he was mocking her.

"What? Her aunt? What the hell are you talking about?"

"She has her period," Chris whispered as Matt, Jay, and Adam all glanced around nervously, trying to pretend that they weren't part of the embarrassing conversation.

Paris nodded in understanding. It wasn't as if she hadn't been there before herself. Hopefully, the guys wouldn't mind if she hung out with them. But before she could ask, Adam changed her plans.

"Paris, honey…I haven't seen these guys in ages," the toothy Canadian stated in a sugary voice. "Would you mind if we had a boy's night out?" He smiled winningly.

Paris tried not to look disappointed. She could have sworn that Chris was hiding the same disappointment. Taking a deep breath, she smiled warmly at Adam.

"Of course not," she said. "I was just gonna wait to see if Amy shows up. If not, I'll just go to bed." She shrugged nonchalantly.

"Baby, you're the best girlfriend ever," Adam replied, kissing her deeply, to which he got several eye rolls, sighs, and taunts of 'Get a room' from Matt, Jay, and Chris.

"Amy should be arriving any minute now," Matt added. "She's with Bugle Beak and the Missing Link."

It took Paris a moment to comprehend that he was talking about Paul and Dave, not so respectively. "Be nice, Matt," Paris chided with a smile to which the dark-haired Hardy simply shrugged.

"Where's my dip shit brother?" he went on, glancing around.

"Probably upstairs screwing the boss," Adam remarked.

"Adam!" Paris scolded.

"The boss?" Jay inquired, looking baffled.

"Yeah, he's been putting the boots to Tammy Petersen for a while now," Adam explained with a raised eyebrow.

"The Ice Queen?" Jay and Matt burst out in unison as Chris shook his head.

"Come on," Adam urged, pushing them toward the door. "I'll tell you all about it. Later, babe…" He gave Paris a quick kiss before hurrying out the door behind his friends.

Paris sighed and stirred her Appletini as the bartender set another one in front of her…on the house, for a pretty lady who just got ditched for the boys, he explained. Paris was just finishing her second Appletini and she'd just done a Lemon Drop shot of vodka when a mocking voice commanded her attention.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Paul stated, smirking sardonically as Paris turned on her barstool to meet his gaze.

"Hello, Paul," she replied evenly as she saw Dave and Amy approaching behind him.

"Fuckette!" Amy shouted, not caring who heard her as she enveloped Paris in a warm, perfumed hug, her red hair obscuring both of their views as they clung to each other laughing and crying. Paul and Dave stepped back, watching the two divas in amusement as they giggled and jabbered like two ruffled hens.

Paris took time out from laughing with Amy to give Dave a quick hug. The Animal of Evolution held her tightly for several seconds, being vigilant that no one read anything into his casual embrace. As they were catching up, Paul stepped in, reminding Paris of the reason for her solitude.

"Where's Copeland?" The Game inquired casually.

Paris shrugged, equally casual. "He's catching up with the boys. They asked me to go, but I wanted to hang out and wait for Ames."

Paul chuckled. How did he always know that she was lying? "You can go out with us then," he stated matter of factly, more a command than an invitation.

"What makes you think I'd be seen in public with you?" Paris retorted.

Paul snorted. "Yeah, I guess it's so much more attractive to sit here and get drunk by yourself because your asshole boyfriend ditched you."

Paris stared witheringly at him. "First of all, I'm not drunk. Second, who says he's my boyfriend? And third, who says he ditched me? Nobody ditches Paris Ocean."

"That much is obvious…"

"I found your letter," Paris interrupted.

Paul looked mildly uncomfortable as Dave cleared his throat, fully aware that it was he and Amy's queue to leave. This was drama that he didn't want and they didn't need. In Dave's experience, Paul was liable to get downright ornery at the thought of someone knowing that he poured his heart out to a woman on paper.

"We're gonna grab a cab," The Animal interjected. "You guys can take the limo."

"You sure?" The Game asked.

"Yeah, we'll just meet at that club we were talking about. You two kids take all the time in the world." He smirked pimpishly at Paris, who hid a self-satisfied smile behind her martini glass. Paul's brow furrowed in consternation as he got the impression that they were mocking him.

"See you there, man," Dave said as he put his hand on the small of Amy's back and guided her toward the door.

"Later, sweetie…" Amy called as Evolution's Enforcer took her gently by the arm and gave Paul a pointed look before escorting the red-headed diva out of the bar.

Paul exhaled sharply. "It looks like we've just been set up to be alone."

Paris downed the rest of her drink and grabbed her purse and jacket.

"Then, let's be alone, Game. Besides, I want to talk to you."

She began to head towards the door, her hips swaying jauntily. When she realized that he wasn't by her side, she turned and stared at him questioningly.

"What's the matter, Paul?" she asked innocently. "Are you worried what might happen if we're alone…in the back of a limo?"

Paul glared at her incredulously. Where was she getting the attitude from? A few weeks ago, she would have never had the audacity to speak to him, to Triple H, in such a fashion—with such cheek and innuendo. But she was different. He had noticed that the first moment he had laid eyes on her when he walked in the bar. She was tougher, more mature, edgier (no pun intended). She was definitely sexier, but there was one problem. Her violet eyes were devoid of any emotion. They were cold and hollow, and as much as the physical sight of her aroused him, he wasn't sure if he liked this new Paris.

"Well…are you coming?" she demanded, jolting him out of his reverie.

"Is that some kind of an order?" he growled, approaching her.

Paris shrugged indifferently. "I'm just bored standing here while you stare off into space."

Paul snorted. "Then, let's go," he commanded, clamping his huge arm around her tiny waist and practically pushing her out the door.

"What's next, Cro Magnon Man? Are you gonna club me over the head and drag me to your cave?" Paris sassed as they stood on the sidewalk next to the limo.

"Don't tempt me," Paul snarled as she attempted to struggle into her jacket and straighten her hair. "Get in," he ordered.

Paris put her hands on her hips and glared at him, refusing to budge.

"What? Are you waiting for a gold-plated invitation?"

Paris sniffed haughtily. "You didn't say please."

Paul chuckled sarcastically. "Oh, forgive me…where are my manners? Your carriage awaits, my lady…now, get your fucking ass in the limo…NOW!"

Paris sniffed once again. "All you had to do was ask," she quipped as she bent over and got into the limo.

Paul sighed as he put a hand on her ass to help her into the car, silently cursing himself as to why he was even here in the first place. He knew that any interaction with Paris was a recipe for disaster. The whole reason for the trip to San Antonio was to celebrate Stephanie and Shawn's nuptials, which he grudgingly agreed to, if only to pacify the boss. But it was his inner circle, namely Dave and Amy, who knew the real reason why he agreed to the trip and that was to see Paris. He had yet to break the news to her that Orton wouldn't be making the trip. In fact, no one had seen Randy since last Monday when he left RAW. He wasn't even returning Dave's phone calls, except to say that he wouldn't be going to the wedding. He begged off to Vince, saying he had family things to take care of, but Vince wasn't an idiot. He knew about the drama…everyone knew about the drama. It seemed to follow Paris everywhere she went. Of course, Paris, on the other hand, wasn't really acting like she cared if Randy was coming or not. Yes, it was going to be an interesting night. The only thing that could top it would be running into Copeland.

One should be careful what they wish for…they just might get it.

Hey, peeps…long time, no see. Sorry it's been so long…I hope you haven't all forgotten me. Please read and review…I promise to update sooner and you know why? Cuz that's how I roll! Later…Evilution.