8
GABE TAPPED HIS hand against his thigh as he stood looking out the window of Craig Darcy’s office, waiting for the man to join him. He was late for their meeting, but that was hardly a surprise. Darcy operated on his own schedule. The longer it took him to get here, the longer Gabe could put off this discussion, which was fine by him.
The large window looked out over a strip mall, but the distant mountains were what drew Gabe’s eye. It had been months since he’d last gone rock climbing. Sometimes he went alone, but he usually went with a couple of guys from the gym. They’d stay a whole weekend, climbing and hiking before falling into an exhausted sleep under the stars. The therapist he’d seen after the accident had suggested learning a new activity when she’d realized how athletic he was. Gabe had chosen rock climbing because he’d had a friend who’d shown him how to get started, and Gabe had kept it up. A weekend away from everything, pushing his body to its limit, was a good way to clear his mind. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t.
Sometimes he used sex instead.
The first time he’d discovered sex as an outlet to deal with his pain was one night after a fight in Chicago, almost two years after the accident. He’d won and a woman had come on to him at the bar. She’d been beautiful and eager. Drunk on adrenaline, he’d gone home with her and had been happy to oblige when she’d pulled out a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold and asked him to put them on her. It was the first time in a long time he’d been able to be with a woman without feeling guilty. Oh, the guilt had come later, but for those couple of hours, he’d been someone else. The sex had been like a scene in a dream. He’d been a part of it, but separate from it at the same time.
After that night, he’d decided to chase that high. It had taken him a while to become comfortable with this new lifestyle. Sex wasn’t sex as he’d known it before. It was different. Less emotional. Satisfying in a whole new way. The guilt had eventually gone away altogether. Now it was just him and whichever woman he was with that night and the roles they were playing. While he was in the hotel room, he could let everything about Gabriel Maddox fall away. It wasn’t about him. It wasn’t about the woman. It was simply about bringing them both pleasure. That was why he never brought them to his home; it was easier to pretend that way. Afterward, he’d feel numb, and numb was good. The numbness usually lasted for a week or two, and then he’d do it all over again. Which reminded him that it’d been well over a month since he’d last had sex, because he was anything but numb now.
Megan had made sure of that. The feel of her tiny body in his hands, submissive and responsive as she gave in to him in the restaurant, was still fresh on his mind. Three goddamn days and he still remembered her taste, how fucking wet she’d been for him, and her smell. The scent of her had lingered on his fingers after he’d touched her pussy through her panties. He nearly groaned as his whole body tightened at the memory. If Nick hadn’t interrupted them, Gabe knew he’d have fucked her with his fingers, gotten her off right there in the hallway. He never made out like that in public, like some teenager, but something had come over him and he hadn’t been able to control himself.
He wanted Megan. No other woman would do for him, because every time he thought of calling another, she forced her way back into his thoughts. That wouldn’t change until he fucked her and got her out of his system. He knew that she wanted him too. Even better, now he knew that she wanted what he could give her. Her body had lit up for him when he’d barked orders at her, and she’d been so damn good at following them. But she’d clearly been shocked by how she’d reacted to him, so he’d given her some space and left the party soon after.
He’d call her soon, though.
“Maddox.” Darcy’s voice announced he’d arrived a second before he walked through the open door of his office.
Gabe turned to see that he was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, his short blond hair still damp as if he’d just taken a shower. “Morning, boss.”
Darcy paused to toss his gym bag behind his desk before walking over to shake Gabe’s hand. “Came from the gym. I thought I’d see you down there. What time did you get in this morning?”
Gabe shook his head. “Six. Just like every morning.”
Darcy let out a low whistle. “You’re a machine.”
Gabe had learned early on after the accident to follow a strict routine. If every minute of his day was planned out, then he didn’t have time to think. Thinking meant dwelling on what had happened and that led to dark places filled with guilt, anger, and sadness. He’d tried to drown those feelings with alcohol and painkillers. But after waking up to an empty bottle of Jack one too many times, his mom had urged him to go to therapy. He’d been reluctant at first, damn near defiant about it, but therapy had helped get him back on track.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been in here. Looks good.” Changing the subject, Gabe held his hand out to gesture to Darcy’s office. Six months ago, there’d been a desk and a stack of boxes waiting to be unpacked. Now there was a sitting area in front of the tall windows with plush leather couches and a bar with a mini-fridge off to the side. None of it looked cheap. It indicated the league was doing well financially, which was great, but Gabe wondered even more why that profit wasn’t trickling down to the fighters.
Darcy nodded. “Thanks. Feels like I’ve been working out of cardboard boxes for years. It’s good to be settled.”
Gabe knew how much Darcy had put into this league to get it up and running, and he didn’t want to come across as ungrateful, but it was time to let him know how the fighters felt. He tossed a glance to the open door when Darcy’s assistant, Deb, walked by, humming along with whatever music played through the earbuds she wore. “You mind if we shut the door?”
Darcy immediately looked wary. “Shit, you’re not here to tell me Imperial wants you back, are you?” He walked over and closed the door.
“Nah. They do, but I’m not going anywhere.”
Darcy looked only slightly appeased and gestured for Gabe to take a seat on the far couch before sitting on the other. “Then what’s going on? Your mom okay?”
“Yeah, she’s good. It’s nothing like that.” Clearing his throat, he leaned forward and rested his forearms on his legs. “Look, boss, I’m sure this won’t come as a surprise to you, but some of the guys aren’t happy about the deal you made with Mereo.”
“Jesus Christ,” Darcy muttered and shifted forward. “Is this about that goddamn article? I knew better than to let Megan do that story. Jules talked me into it.”
A wave of protectiveness rose up within him at the mention of Megan. “The article has nothing to do with it. The guys have been pissed about it ever since their payouts started declining. Megan must’ve heard someone talking shit when she was researching.”
Darcy snorted and shook his head. “Do you have any idea how long it took me to get a company to take this league, this sport, seriously? For years, no one wanted anything to do with us. They laughed every time I approached them with a deal. Now we have Dragon Energy, Geico—hell, ESPN is talking to us. Mereo has opened a lot of doors.”
Gabe nodded. “That’s great, but it doesn’t address the money they’re losing with each fight, some as much as fifty thousand. For others, it’s only a few thousand, but those are the ones most hurt. You were a kid out there taking fights, training, and working your ass off to make it. You know how much it costs to train. Those guys depend on the money from sponsors to make it from fight to fight.”
“I do know, Gabe. I unloaded trucks at night, worked in warehouses, did whatever I could to make money to train and feed my kid. I did it; so can they. Back then, we were lucky to get free shoes from a sponsor, much less a couple grand for wearing a patch on our shorts.”
Gabe sighed and tried to figure out another way to make Darcy understand. “Things have changed since your days in Boston. Shit, they’ve changed since I was starting out in San Diego ten years ago. There’s more competition now. Training is more expensive. And it’s not enough to be good in one discipline. Now we need coaches for wrestling, sparring, judo . . . the list goes on.”
“It’s what it takes now to be the best,” Darcy agreed, and Gabe wasn’t sure if he was deliberately missing the point.
“Sure, but what chance does a kid have nowadays unless his parents are loaded? We’re not all Oliveiras with trust funds.”
Darcy sat back and put his ankle on his left knee. “You’re doing fine. Giannakis is fine. The WFC invites elite fighters to train at our facilities. You think that’s free? The WFC pays for it with help from Mereo.”
“We appreciate that. But Nick and I are champions. We’d be able to afford training now because of our sponsors. The only sponsors these kids were able to get are now gone thanks to this deal with Mereo. And you’re not inviting them to train here.”
“We can’t pay for everyone’s training.” Darcy gave an exaggerated shrug.
“Of course you can’t,” Gabe said, getting frustrated because it was beginning to feel like they were talking circles around each other. “I understand you can only invite so many fighters to train here. That’s why it’s even more important that the younger guys just starting out are able to secure sponsors. Guys who used to make five grand from a fight are now only getting a thousand. They’re only able to take a fight every couple of months, so that’s a significant drop in pay.”
Darcy raised his hands as if it were out of his control. “It is what it is. I don’t like that the guys are making less, but I pay them fairly. So they have to take extra shifts at their jobs. We all do what we have to do to make ends meet. It’s life.”
Gabe sat back, his body pressing into the soft leather of the couch as he crossed his arms and tried to calm himself. Bringing anger into the conversation wouldn’t help, but Darcy seemed unreachable. “Dropping from thirty grand a year to five can’t be made up with a few extra shifts at work.”
Darcy narrowed his eyes, their blue cooling. “What the hell, Maddox? You taking their side in this?”
“There doesn’t have to be sides. We all want the same thing here. We want the WFC to be successful, and for everyone to be treated fairly along the way.”
“You can’t come in here and tell me that I’m not being fair and then say you’re not taking sides.” Darcy ran his hand through his hair.
Shit. This wasn’t going well. He’d expected a conversation about the pay structure and how to get it realigned more fairly. What he was getting was denial and willful ignorance, both of which Gabe had very little patience for. “I’m here because the fighters came to me. They’re pissed about their loss of income. They want to organize. I told them to let me talk to you first and share their concerns.”
“Organize, huh?” Darcy scoffed. “I picked every damn one of them out of nothing and brought them here to give them a chance at something big. This is how they repay me?”
“They just want their cut.”
“They get a fair cut. It’s on them if they’re not happy with it.”
Gabe shook his head. “Is their cut fair? How much does the WFC keep in profit?”
Darcy took in a breath. “I think we’re done here.”
“Boss, it doesn’t have to go down this way. They just want what they were earning before.”
“And I just want to build this league, and I can’t do it if they’re nickel-and-diming me,” Darcy shot back. “It costs money to put on Fan Day and all the other events we’re doing to raise engagement, print merchandise, build a state-of-the-art training facility. All of this helps to strengthen our brand, which strengthens their brands. They benefit from that money spent.”
“But you won’t have a league without the fighters. We helped you build it. Seems like you’re forgetting that.”
“I’m not forgetting anything,” Darcy said. “It’s the fighters who shouldn’t forget that I got them where they are. Let them organize. I’ll replace every damn one of them.”
Gabe sighed. He could see from the set of Darcy’s jaw that nothing good was going to come from discussing this further right now, and he stood. “Think about it. I don’t think either of us wants that to happen.” He walked to the door and hoped Darcy would see reason before things went from bad to worse.
Gabe took the last bite of his grilled chicken and shoved his plate away. He sat at the small table in his kitchen, eating dinner with his television on as he did most nights, but tonight he couldn’t focus on the sitcom he’d recorded. His gaze kept flicking back to his phone charging on the kitchen counter. Turning off the TV, he took his plate to the sink and rinsed it before placing it in the dishwasher. His gaze jumped back to the phone as he downed the rest of his water, put his glass on the top rack, and closed the dishwasher.
Ever since his talk with Darcy that morning, he hadn’t been able to get Megan out of his head. It was time he dealt with her, and he hoped she’d had enough space to come to terms with their kiss.
He had no doubt that she was inexperienced in what he wanted, and sadly, there was no way one night would get her comfortable enough with him to allow him to do all the things that he fantasized about with her. After the way she’d responded to him—all submissive and eager for more—he suspected that she’d be a willing student. However, they likely wouldn’t get far past him tying her up, because he couldn’t give her more than one night.
She was different. Somehow, she had the power to reach past all the barriers he had erected between himself and other people. As he reached for his phone to call her, he realized that part of his reluctance was that he’d always known that. He wasn’t ready to let anyone see his ugly scars. And she would if he gave her half the chance. That was part of what scared him. He could have her but couldn’t keep her, because keeping her would mean letting her in, and no fucking way was that happening.
It was why one night would have to be enough. One perfect night—to explore her and watch her come apart. To have her and get her out of his system.
He scrolled to the voice mail she’d left him and selected the option to return her call. His heart beat in his ears as it rang. It wasn’t that he thought she might say no. Gabe knew she was curious enough about their connection to say yes to one night. It was that he was concerned about his own level of interest in her, but he wasn’t going to let that keep him from seeing her. Calling her barely even felt like a choice.
“Hello?” His heart shuddered to a stop at the sound of her voice. She’d answered just when he’d started to think he’d get her voice mail. She sounded breathless and he wondered if it was because she’d run to answer the call, or because she was as anxious to talk as him.
“It’s Gabe.” His voice came out gruffer than he’d meant it to.
“I-I know . . . I mean, hi.” She sounded a little unsure of herself, almost shy. It was endearing, and he realized that he wanted to learn all the different sides of her.
“I want to see you.” He grimaced when he realized how that must sound. She kept him off balance. “I don’t mean . . . I don’t date. Ever. It’s not what I do.”
She took in a breath, but her next words surprised him. “I know. That’s what Nick said.”
So she’d asked Nick about him. He didn’t know why, but that pleased him. It shouldn’t, but maybe it meant she understood what she’d be getting into with him. Just to be sure, he laid it out so there’d be no misunderstanding. “I want to fuck you, Megan. I want to tie you up and make you come so hard you scream.”
The sound of her breathing, nearly panting, made him close his eyes. He clenched his hand into a fist. “You want it too,” he added over the sound of her breath, his voice hoarse now that his erection was straining against his zipper.
“You seem pretty sure of yourself.” She said it not with a challenge, but with a smile and a little waver in her voice. It was her way of lightening the mood. Even though he barely knew her, he recognized it as a move that was distinctly Megan. He couldn’t help but smile.
“I am,” he said. “You’re already wet just thinking about it.”
Her breath hitched, and he knew he was right.
“Tomorrow night at eight. The Palms. I’ll leave a key at the front desk for you.” He paused before adding, “One night only.”
“One night only? That’s a lot of pressure.” He could hear the smile come back into her voice. “Why only one night?”
“I don’t date. You’re friends with Jules. It could get complicated. Maybe even once is a bad idea, but I can’t get you out of my mind.”
She took in a deep, wavering breath before asking, “What if I don’t want to be tied up?”
His smile widened. Maybe she didn’t know it yet, but he knew she’d love it. She’d responded so well to him on Friday night that there was no doubt in his mind that she’d like being restrained. “You’ll like it, but you say stop, I stop.”
She waited a heartbeat before saying, “Okay. I’ll be there.”
Warmth spread through his chest, as if she’d given him a dose of her sunshine. He had to remind himself that this was only about sex, one chance to taste her sweetness before he pushed her out of his mind for good. “Good night, Megan.”