A/N: Special thank-you to JohnCenaFan, xj0j0x, and Blackhat for reviews. Also thanks to those that have subscribed/favorited/alerted, etc. Thanks for reading. :)

Warning: This chapter contains scenes of abuse and non-consensual sex between adults. I thought long and hard about leaving this in, and have come to the conclusion that later events are meaningless without this. I don't want to offend or upset my readers, though, so if you don't want to read the scenes, feel free to drop me a PM and I will give you a summary of what happens. Thank you.

Chapter Ten

Vanessa leaned against the wall, staring at Wade, who loomed over her. His face was awash with dangerous anger and she knew in that moment that she never, ever, wanted to truly make him mad. She flinched as his hand slammed against the wall next to her head, barring her escape.

"You think you can toy with me?" he sneered, lip curling as he glanced down at her shirt. "You think I'm stupid? I would have to be the world's largest idiot to fall for your charm, Miss Tyler."

"No, you've got it all wrong," she insisted, moving her hands to rest on his chest. Her palm flattened over solid muscle and she felt her pulse accelerate upon feeling the way his heart seemed to race at her touch. Here's hoping the fans don't hate me, she thought. "You once said I should be with someone who'd treat me like a lady." Had Creative planted a chip in her brain to read her thoughts? She swore he had used those words off-camera.

"I've said many things." His other hand raised to press against the wall, barring any escape she may have planned. "So have you."

"What do you mean?" She unconsciously wet her lips as he seemed to move closer.

"I've heard you talking to your little friends about me. How you'll take care of me so Orton maintains his title. But you've made a mistake, Miss Tyler. I don't get distracted. Least of all by someone like you."

"Like me?" She laughed. "You've gotten it so wrong, Wade. If you'd open your eyes you'd see that I'm doing the exact opposite."

"What's that mean?" he asked. He was moving closer. She could feel his body starting to press against hers. God in heaven, she could barely concentrate. He hadn't been that close when they'd rehearsed.

"Randy is a good man, don't get me wrong." She slid her hand up, tracing the collar of his shirt with the tip of her finger. "But he's been on top for too long. He's done everything he can to stay on top. He's cheated, lied, even stolen. Isn't it time someone give him a taste of his own medicine?"

"Are you telling me that you're planning on backstabbing him?"

"Don't put words in my mouth. I'm just saying that you're the only man who can knock him from the pedestal he built for himself."

"What's in it for me?"

"The title. Fame and glory." She pulled her lips into a smile. "If you're good, maybe even me."

She barely heard the noise the audience made as his lips descended over hers. The one part of the segment they hadn't gone over. A good thing, considering Randy had been with them at the time. But now they were alone, except for the cameraman. And the millions watching. But she didn't focus on those facts, instead allowing her eyes to drift shut. She sank into the kiss, hands sliding into his hair. Heart aching, she realized it may be the only chance she had to feel his lips on hers again. The thought only urged her on, a soft whine bubbling in her throat when his hands moved to frame her face.

"We're clear."

"Bloody hell," Wade whispered as the kiss broke. She slowly opened her eyes to find him staring at her, eyes aglow. "You certainly sold that kiss, love."

"You didn't do too bad, either," she replied breathlessly. She heard the door open and swallowed anxiously as he stepped back, turning his back to her. "I'll see you out there, then."

"Right."

"Be careful."

He turned to look at her, one hand lifting to brush over his lips. "I will."

Randy hissed as he stepped under the water. It pounded against his skin like millions of rocks, each one seeming to land on the scrape along his abdomen. Turning to reduce the amount that touched his injury, he braced one hand against the tile wall. Barrett had been brutal in the ring. More than usual. He couldn't help wondering if it had something to do with the fact Vanessa had all but announced that she was going to cheat Randy out of the title. Or maybe it was that kiss...

He growled, snatching up the bar of soap. He was halfway through his match before the red tinge of rage had finally left his vision. He knew when he watched the footage later he would hear the announcers say he wasn't holding anything back. And he hadn't. When he'd seen Vanessa return Barrett's kiss he had wanted to demolish him.

He still did.

"You okay, babe?" Vanessa asked softly, pulling the curtain back so she could peek in. He saw her gaze drop to the long red streak on his abdomen and she winced.

"I'll live." He growled as the soap made its way down his body, the scrape burning as the bubbles made contact. "Fuck!" he bellowed, throwing the soap onto the floor.

"Rinse off," she advised softly.

He did as she said, too tense to argue. The water presser appeared to intensify as he turned, this time feeling like millions of knives. Grumbling under his breath, he shut off the water and shoved the curtain back fully.

A warm towel was waiting for him when he stepped out. He stood still as she dried off his body, taking special care not to exacerbate the scrape. When she finished, she was kneeling in front of him, and looked up at him, a hint of fear in her eyes. "Babe," she began, picking up another towel to wrap around him. She stood up slowly, adjusting the towel so it rested just so on his hips. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't throw me against the announcers' table."

"I'm not talking about that. I mean about the kiss."

"Did you have to look like you enjoyed it?" he sighed, dragging his hand over his face.

"I had to sell it," she defended gently. Her finger traced a line around the scrape that began at his hip and stretched up to just below his nipple. "Do you want me to put some Neosporin on this?"

"I want Creative to end this fucking storyline so things can get back to normal. I want – I want – Fuck it," he groaned, grabbing her hips and yanking her close. "I want to look at you and not worry that you're thinking of him."

"Randy," she whispered, flinching as his fingers tightened. "You're hurting me."

It took every ounce of control he had to lessen his grip. "See? See what he's done to us? What happens when he's not happy with on-camera bullshit and tries to really take you from me?"

"Will you please get it into your head that I'm not Debbie?" she returned, brow furrowing in anger.

He released her so suddenly she stumbled back. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"I know what happened, Randy. I know you walked in on them having sex. And I understand that you'd be worried about it happening again. But, damn, babe, I'm not her." She ran her hands through her hair. "Yes, he's a charming guy. And I'll be honest, I find him attractive. If I weren't with you, I would be interested in him."

"You went to dinner with him, Vanessa," he reminded, not caring if she learned how he knew. "What the fuck was that about, anyway?"

"What was I supposed to do? Sit around in the hotel room waiting for you to grace me with your presence? It's not like I dragged him back to the room to fuck him. We had dinner. We walked back to the hotel. We said goodnight at the elevator. End of story."

"I can't believe this," he hissed. "What am I supposed to think, huh? You didn't even tell me about it. You just showed up at the hotel Saturday and crawled into bed like nothing was wrong. Why didn't you tell me? I had to fucking find out by-"

"By what, Randy?" she challenged when he abruptly ended his sentence. "By going through my phone? So much for trust. I would have told you if you'd given me a chance. I didn't crawl into bed, you dragged me." She yanked the first-aid kit from her toiletry bag and began to rummage through it.

Leaning against the sink, he forced himself to remain calm. "I don't remember you putting up much of a fight," he muttered, curling his hands around the cool porcelain when she began to dab ointment onto his scrape.

"Would it have mattered if I did?" she whispered, eyes meeting his.

"Jesus Christ, I'd never force you to-" he cut off with a yelp as she rubbed the ointment into his skin.

"Are you going to bed now?" she asked a few moments later, following him from the bathroom.

"Early morning," he answered. "And we're flying out tomorrow night, remember?" Tossing his towel aside, he motioned for her to move closer. She hesitated and he bit back a series of curses. Not wanting to give her a choice, he reached for her, dragging her close by the wrist. "Come to bed with me."

"I want to run to the roof and get a smoke," she murmured. He felt her tense as his lips nudged her forehead.

"You can wait," he insisted. "I want to make up with you."

"All we do is make up." She groaned when he tugged at the hem of her t-shirt. "You ever think we should address our problems instead of pushing them aside for sex?"

He smirked as his hands plunged beneath her shirt. Wetting his lips as he found her bare breasts, he dipped his head to nuzzle her neck. "We're not pushing them aside," he whispered against her skin, hand sliding down her side. Finding the waistband of her jeans, he moved his hand forward. It took just a flick of his thumb to pop open the button. He had just begun to push them down when her hands stopped him.

"We're pushing them aside," she groaned, finally breaking free. "We always do this."

"We're good at this," he reminded her. "Everything works out, doesn't it?"

"We're not working things out," she ground out. She lifted her head, turquoise eyes glowing with – no, not desire. Anger. She was pissed. "We're just going to fuck until we forget what's wrong."

"We must be doing it wrong, because it always crops up again," he returned with a scowl. "So what do we do, babe? Stop having sex until things are perfect? 'Cause not everything's going perfect all the time."

"I thought we were perfect."

He cursed when he saw she had her cigarettes in her hand. "You can't leave me," he informed, smug when she froze at the sound of his voice. "You're not leaving," he insisted as he stepped forward.

"I'm just going upstairs for-"

"You're not leaving," he repeated, hands wrapping around her wrists. He would be damned if he let her walk out on him again. He felt her tremble, heard the cigarettes fall to the desk, and knew he had put her in her place. "I'm sick of this shit," he hissed, pushing her towards the bed. "You're mine, babe, remember? I worked hard to get you and I'll be goddamned if I'm going to just let you waltz away."

"Randy," she breathed. "Please, don't—"

"I almost lost you once, I'm not losing you again," he whispered. Certain she wouldn't try to get away, he released her wrists and yanked off her shirt. "Take off the pants."

"What are you doing?" she asked. He saw tears in her eyes but refused to be swayed.

"I'm showing you that you belong to me. Take them off."

It took her forever to follow his order. When, at long last, she stood naked before him, he grabbed her by the waist and pushed her onto the bed. Leaning over her, he pressed his lips to hers. She flailed as he settled between her thighs.

"Don't you dare," he growled, catching her wrists again. "You're not getting out of this. You think you can just do whatever the fuck you want? You can't." He pressed her hands down onto the bed, staring down at her until she stilled. Slipping one hand between them, he smirked when he found her slick. "You like this, don't you?" he whispered, fingers working rapidly to ready her.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "Randy, please, don't-"

"This will go a lot quicker if you fucking work with me." Feeling the wetness on his fingers grow, he smirked again. "That's better." He dropped his hand to her thigh, fingers digging into her soft skin as he entered her. "This," he hissed, "is how things are going to happen from now on." Her hands lifted, pressing against his chest, and he pinned them over her her head, holding her down completely. "You're not going anywhere without my permission. You're not seeing him alone at all. You're not talking to him. You're not texting him. If he corners you, you're going to get the fuck away. Do you understand?"

She nodded, eyes closed tightly.

Randy worked his hips against hers, refusing to part from her body entirely. Growling when he felt her tighten around him, he leaned to kiss her neck. "If I want you, you don't say no," he whispered. "Not that it matters, because I'm taking what I want anyway." His tongue traced her earlobe and he felt her shiver. "That's right, babe. See? Even when you fight it, your body knows it wants me."

She turned her head to the side, eyes still closed, and he saw the trails of tears down her cheeks. Her body was no more than a rigid board beneath him. He felt her shift once, twice, and then she gave a soft cry as her body shuddered. Fueled on, he slammed into her, body straining. Head falling back, he dug his fingers into the tender skin of her wrists as the orgasm swept over him.

When he rolled away, he heard her start to sniffle. He flexed his fingers, glancing to see her rubbing her wrists. He noted with another smirk that she didn't scramble to get away. Sitting up, he turned out the lamp and reached for the TV remote. "Get up and turn out the lights, babe."

She did as he instructed. His eyes never left her as she crossed back to the bed. When she stopped at her open suitcase to pull out a nightshirt, he shook his head.

"You don't need that." He licked his lips as the nightshirt fell back into the suitcase and watched the light from the TV screen glow on her skin. She pulled back the covers and slid into bed, still quiet, laying down with a furtive glance in his direction. Lying next to her, he stretched his arms over his head, eyes finally moving to the TV. "Just remember what I told you and everything will be fine."