Playing with Fire

Straight to voicemail. I tried again. Same outcome. I texted him.

Grace: Call me. It’s urgent.

Pushing the double doors open, I searched for him outside. By the fountain. At the gym. Then headed to the cafeteria. I wanted to strangle him. Now I knew how his parents must’ve felt. I was about to head out of the cafeteria, get in the pickup, and drive to his house when I noticed a head of auburn curls in the corner of the cafeteria.

Max.

My legs carried me to him, my mind focused on one thing—preventing West from getting into the ring next Friday. Next Friday. That was why he was so agitated this week. Lord help me.

Max was chatting up a pretty girl, leaning over the wall she was plastered against. I tapped his back. He turned around slowly, his smile vanishing when he saw my face.

Feeling’s mutual, pal.

“Uh, hey?”

“Hi. I’m Grace Shaw.”

“Okay,” he said as he pushed his sunglasses up his head. “How can I help you, Grace Shaw?” He made a show of repeating my full name, like it had been dumb of me to introduce myself like that. The girl next to him snorted.

“You’re West’s bookie, right?”

His chest broadened boastfully, and he flashed me a grin.

“That’s right. You’re his flavor of the week, right?”

I ignored his jab.

“I’m here to ask you to stop the fight on Friday from happenin’.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t want him in the ring with Appleton.”

“West’s a big boy.”

“He’s also not doin’ the smart thing here, and we both know that.”

“He’s about to make more money than he made in a year and a half, so with all due respect—and I have none toward you because I don’t actually know you—we’ll agree to disagree.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but he shouldered past me, forgetting about the girl he was leaving behind. He wanted to run away from this conversation before it got ugly, not knowing it was too late for that. I followed him.

“Now, I suggest if you have issues with the fight, you take it up with him personally. I’m not his momma.”

I caught his wrist in a death grip, every bone in my body burning with anger. He stopped.

“If you let this fly,” I bit out every word, my teeth clenched tightly together as I spoke, “I’ll go to the authorities with this information.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew they were the wrong ones. Max stilled. The chatter around the cafeteria halted. Disaster hung in the air, fat and swollen, ready to blow in my face.

No one snitched on Max and West.

No one had informed the authorities about the Sheridan Plaza parties. For years.

That was the rule.

And I’d just threatened to break it.

Max turned slowly to face me, but it was West who made my heart leap in my chest. I saw him galloping from the entrance in my direction, Easton and Reign on either side of him. His eyes skimmed the room, and when they found what they were looking for—me—he headed straight in my direction.

The first time he’d acknowledged my existence at school since we started dating, and I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like it.

Someone had tipped him off about my public argument with Max.

West knew what was happening.

Knew I knew about his fight. About his lies.

But I wasn’t the one who was supposed to feel the way I did. Angry, flushed, and scared. He’d broken a promise. He had a lot to answer for.

West came to a screeching halt in front of me, all bronzed muscles and barely contained fury. I took a step back and reminded myself that this was the same man who worshipped me between the sheets every night. Who acted as a caregiver to my grandmother when I broke apart. Who cared.

“Is there a problem here?” His voice dripped ice. He stared me down like I was a complete stranger again. Devoid of any emotions. I took a deep breath.

Really? That’s how you talk to me in public?

“There is, actually.” I tipped my nose up. I spotted Tess in my periphery, behind West’s back, standing next to Reign. They were pushing and whispering to each other.

“I told you not to tell her. He didn’t want her to know.” Reign groaned, and Tess shrugged helplessly, looking humbled for the first time since I’d started dating her crush.

“You lied to me, West. I asked you about taking a fight with Appleton, and you flat-out lied.”

The crowd surrounding us was thickening. People murmured and nudged each other in awe. The unshakable, imperial West St. Claire was having his ass handed to him—and by Toastie, no less. Next thing they knew, pigs would be able to fly, too.

“No one manages my business other than me.” West flashed me his teeth.