Why couldn’t the fucker go and annoy someone else.
I kicked off the cover and strolled to the bathroom. While I took a leak, I glanced at myself in the mirror. I did that every morning and I didn’t know why. I didn’t pay attention to my features, which had changed a lot over the years. At one time, I looked like my father, but that soon passed. I’d grown harder, tougher than him and sometimes, if I looked hard enough, I could see some part of him in my eyes or the slash of my mouth but then it would be gone…I was not my father.
Outside of those few short seconds, my father wasn’t someone I thought about, at least, I tried not to. He would pop into my head when I least expected him to.
I’d never been able to accept that he willing handed me over to them. I just couldn’t comprehend how he could do that. He said he loved me, but that had been a lie. You didn’t willing do what h
e did. I never would, and a lot of people out there wouldn’t either. It was just my fucking luck to be born to one of the low percentage of people who didn’t give a damn.
Yanking my sweats up, I headed into my living room and straight to the kitchen. I pulled out a carton of milk, and drank straight from the carton.
Once I’d drunk a liter, I swiped my hand across my mouth and turned to face the stressed out figure of the man.
When he realized my attention was on him, he stopped his pacing and glared, his hand running through his hair.
This was the first time I’d seen him rattled.
“What’s going on?”
“The boss knew you wouldn’t throw the fight…you won him a lot.” He smirked, and ran his hands through his hair.
Had that been some sort of test? I wouldn’t know unless they decided to tell me.
“Fuck,” he cursed. “I need you to be on your best behavior at the gym during the week.”
I snarled. Was he serious? “I’m not five.”
He ignored me. “I’ve arranged for my fiancée and her friend to have access to the gym. Research.” He turned and looked out of the window before he met my gaze again. “She thinks she can write, and wants to write a fictional novel surrounding the Club. She can’t write and I don’t want her around you guys, but it’s our wedding in only a few weeks so I want to keep her happy until that’s over with.”
I snickered to annoy him.
His eyes met mine and narrowed.
“You,” he pointed his finger, “will not look at her, talk to her, or go near her. She’s completely off limits. She’s been told to stay away from the fighters, only to observe, especially you, you piece of shit.”
My eyes narrowed as I watched him. He thought I wouldn’t hit him because he had something to do with the boss, but he was wrong. I knew that he wasn’t at the top so breaking his nose wouldn’t hurt me. But it would make me feel a lot better.
He slowly made his way to the front door as I tracked him. He sweated beneath his suit and knew he had seconds before the venom of Stryker was unleashed on him.
The asshole.
As the door banged behind him, I ran to it and growled, hoping he’d shit himself with fright.
Amusement raced through me until I slumped against the door and slid to the floor.
I was interested in seeing what the pampered princess looked like. Would she be as put together as her fiancé, or would she be worse.
She wouldn’t stand out like my girl did. My girl? Who the fuck was I kidding? She wasn’t my girl, and probably never would be. I mean what were the chances of seeing her again. She’d been a mesmerizing presence in a crowd of hundreds. If I ever got the chance to have a girl, I sure as hell wouldn’t talk about her like he did.
He obviously liked to humor his fiancée, but I couldn’t help wonder what kind of books she wrote. I had a good collection of novels since I spent so much time alone when I wasn’t at the gym or at a fight. Most of my collection was crime and thrillers, but there were also some paranormal romance books on my shelves. I bet the asshole had never even read any of his fiancée’s books.
Asshole!
Today, I’d piss him off again, because I’d changed my mind about staying home.
A FEW HOURS LATER, I’d managed to sneak out again, but I knew it was only a matter of time before they discovered where I went.
I pushed the thought aside and, instead relished the afternoon crowd in the small bar. I loved it so much that it was a risk I was willing to take. Julio knew who I was and realized from the first that I liked to be anonymous while I was here. He’d always pour me a tall glass of milk during the day and a bottle of water in the evening. Right from the first, he’d told me only to pay when I lost a fight; otherwise my drinks were on him.