He's not her most favorite person in the world, but she finds it in her heart to be there for him in his time of need. In return, he shows her just how much he appreciates it. Set around the events of the 2015 Royal Rumble and the Blizzard Raw the n...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"You're a fuckin' jerk, you know that?" she snarled, pointing her finger into the face of the man with whom she was so furious. "You should be glad I ain't slapped the shit outta you!"
A smirk crossed Roman Reigns' face as he stared down at her angry features. "What's the matter, sweet pea? Mad 'cause I called you out on the truth?"
"Ain't no damn truth, Reigns. And my name's Jaida. How about you call me by my fuckin' given name?"
"I'll call you whatever I want, sweet pea," said Roman. He stepped closer to her, bringing them chest to chest. "I see the way you look at me. I don't know why you keep acting like you don't wanna hop on my dick. I sure as well won't mind." He lifted his hand to run a forefinger over her right jawline, hearing her breath catch, just like he expected. "Anytime, anyplace, sweet pea. You name it."
Revolted, Jaida knocked his hand away, eyeing him with disdain. "You're a real piece of shit," she spat, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. They'd been at this for the past ten minutes, for the past couple of months if she was really counting, and she was irritated by it all. How she hadn't yet buried the heel of one of her Louboutins into his thick skull, she had no clue. But it was coming. Soon.
"Oh, am I? Well, you ain't nothin' but a piece of ass!" he snarled, feeling a measure of sadistic pleasure soar through him as her light green eyes widened with shock.
Jaida's fists clenched and unclenched, fuming. Yes, real soon. "Fuck you!"
"Trust me, doll, I would if you let me, so I can shut that pretty little mouth of yours," the Samoan retorted lasciviously. He looked her up and down, admiring her undeniable beauty; her dark hair, currently tied up in a haphazard bun, the red, off the shoulder long-sleeved blouse that complimented her caramel skin and hugged her curvy figure, then returned his ash-colored gaze to her shocked features. "I bet that's how you got your job here, huh, sweet pea? Sucked off some naïve exec before showing him your so-called designs?"
Okay, the gloves were off now. If he wanted to get personal, she had no problem doing the same. "You're one to talk, Junior. Like you didn't go crying to Daddy or Dwayne to hook you up after your football career went down the toilet!" When Roman's eyes flared furiously, an evil smile crossed her face. "Yeah, I've heard the stories. Couldn't hack it in the NFL so you snuck your way in here. Now you're struttin' around actin' like we should kiss your ass for gracing us with your presence." Her smirk widened. "Aw, is poor wittle Roman gonna cry? You run your mouth, I do the same. If you can't take the heat then get the fuck outta the kitchen."
With that, Jaida lifted her chin in triumph, daring him to come back from that. But instead she found herself wincing at the look on the Samoan's face. For the first time since this thing between them started, she had actually hit a nerve. He looked really pissed. Hurt, even. And she wasn't sure what to make of it.
Roman exhaled quickly and pursed his lips into a thin line. He looked like he was struggling with some difficult internal debate. He slammed his flak jacket down to the table next to her. "The zipper's broke. Fix it," he ordered, a dangerous edge to his voice.
