THE NEXT day, we decided to skip the party at Jamie’s condo. Jamie said it was going to be boring, but I think he was really just showing me mercy. If it had just been Braden and Trey, I would have been fine with it, but the fact that Layla and Cameron had been invited was a problem for me.

Jamie and I spent the entire day with his family, eating, sitting out on the gazebo, and watching TV. It was a welcome change from the hectic schedule I had been keeping in Vegas, and which I would have to return to the next morning.

Marco was bitching because I hadn’t been training enough, but there just weren’t enough hours in the day to juggle a new business and a fighting career. More than once, I had considered buying out of my UFC contract.

I slept on the sofa the second night in Georgia. I wanted a replay of the previous night, but between the Paul-in-Latex Debacle—that was now its official name in the Atwood family gossip circle—and letting Jamie use me as a fuck toy, I figured I’d already used up my quota of Get Out of Jail Free cards.

Parting again was more difficult than I had imagined it would be.

“Take me with you,” Jamie said as he followed me through the airport check-in looking desperate. “I don’t want to finish school. I don’t give a shit anymore.”

“It’s only three more months,” I told him as much for my own benefit as his. “Ninety more excruciating days, and then we’ll be together.”

“Permanently?” he asked, needing confirmation.

“Permanently,” I said. “I wouldn’t be inviting you into my world if I wasn’t serious, Jamie. I want you by my side.”

He threw his arms around me and hung on tight, even after the check-in attendant got irritable and told the next person in line to go in front of me.

“Okay, I can wait. Like you said, it’s only three months. It just seems like the closer it gets, the less patience I have.”

“I know the feeling,” I said. “It seems like the days keep getting longer.

“Sir,” the check-in attendant said. “Could you please step forward or get out of the line?”

I nodded and peeled Jamie’s arms from around my neck. Then I touched a finger to his new claddagh necklace.

“Don’t forget about me.”

He rolled his eyes. “As if I could.”

“Sir,” the check-in attendant barked.

“Okay, okay,” I said, just as irritated with him as he was with me. “Jamie, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you as soon as I get to Vegas.”

He nodded and turned to go, looking like a lost puppy. By the time I had finished checking in, he was gone. Out of my sight for three more months.

Steve was on duty when I got back to the Alcazar, working second shift. I wondered who had called out, but I was too tired to ask. He gave me a pitying look as I dragged by the front desk.

“You look like shit,” he said. “Did you tell Jamie I said hey?”

“Yeah,” I said, though I hadn’t thought of Steve once on the trip.

“And is he as adorable as ever?”

“More,” I said. “Being apart sucks. I’m ready for him to get here for good.”

“Me, too,” Steve said. “I miss my partner in crime.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, lacking the energy to argue with Steve about the crime aspect of his and Jamie’s relationship. “Look, I’m worn out. I’m just gonna go on to bed, okay? If anybody has an emergency, you know where to find me.”

The next days were uneventful, and I was so depressed I probably couldn’t have dealt with any excitement. Marco commented more than once on my mood, but I was thankful he didn’t go easy on me. The only time I had any relief from my own mind was when I was training.

A month after I returned, I accidentally noticed something I wasn’t supposed to. Following up on Mark Gladstone’s tip, I had started looking into one of my various properties, the Scepter Hotel. It confused me how my uncle could own an entire hotel that I didn’t know about, but then again there was also an art gallery and horse stables that I’d never heard of.

There was a lot of money moving through those three properties. Each one of them was doing more business than the Alcazar.

I drove by the Scepter, expecting something grand, and instead I found a small hotel with only a few cars in the parking lot around back. A sign with No Vacancy was lit in red on the front of the building. How could a small hotel with only a few guests be moving more money than the Alcazar, which was at least three times the size and always near full?

I stopped by the horse stables, and the manager I talked to seemed nervous to see me. I didn’t stay long, but from what I could see it was a legitimate operation. What did I know about horses, anyway?

I tried to visit the art gallery four times. No matter what time of day, it was always closed. I supposed that might be the norm for an art gallery. Maybe they only had private shows. I called the number we had listed for the gallery, but no one ever answered the phone, and it never went to voicemail so that I could leave a message.

I found myself wishing I knew more about these types of businesses, since no one seemed inclined to clue me in. Mark was right. I had gone through life with my head up my ass, and now I was paying for it.

Still, I didn’t think my lack of attention was the only reason I didn’t know about these properties. Something told me there was a lot my uncle kept on the down low. I had an uneasy feeling that his questionable business practices were going to get me into trouble, but how could I combat something if I didn’t even know what it was. As far as I could tell, the Alcazar was legitimate, and that brought me some comfort.

I couldn’t afford to call attention to myself for having suspicious activities going on in my business, if for no other reason than to protect Jamie. If anyone started looking into things, they might possibly end up noticing there was something fishy about the way Santori had died.

A lot of the employees had already asked too many questions about the whereabouts of Aldo and Aaron. I always offered the same vague explanation that they had quit after my uncle died. That seemed to satisfy everyone except the Human Resources manager, the brash older woman Jamie called Catwoman Cathy. She cornered me in the lobby one day and expressed her concerns.

“There was no paperwork done on either of them,” she said. “It’s like they both just vanished on the same day Mr. Santori died. No notice or anything. That doesn’t seem odd to you?”

“I guess they figured their job was done,” I told her. “I didn’t speak to Aldo after my uncle died, but I did talk to Aaron, and he told me he wouldn’t be returning to work. It was a traumatic experience for everyone involved, and I didn’t think to ask for paperwork. How do you have them in the system now?”

“As no-shows,” she said.

“Well, change the records to say that they submitted their resignations a few days after my uncle’s death. That’s essentially what happened. The lack of paperwork is my fault.”

“Aaron was the one who reported it to the police,” she said, clearly not ready to let the matter drop. “Then he and Aldo just disappeared.”

“It was a traumatic experience,” I said again, trying to disguise my irritation and failing miserably. “I assume they wanted to put it behind them, and I’d like for us to do the same. Aldo and Aaron were my uncle’s personal employees. Now he’s dead, and they no longer work here. End of story.”

She finally gave up trying to make sense of their disappearance, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t need random employees grilling me about the circumstances surrounding my uncle’s death. I had enough to worry about trying to play the part of a bungling sleuth in my own business.

One Thursday afternoon, I finally caught up with someone at the art gallery. The closed sign was still in place, but I caught sight of a red-haired woman in a green dress wandering around inside. When I knocked, she disappeared into the back, so I pulled out my cell and called the number. No answer. I banged on the door for ten minutes, and she finally let me in.

“Can I help you?” she asked cautiously before recognition dawned on her face. “Oh, Mr. Santori. Please come in. I’m Stella. It’s nice to see you again.”

“We’ve met?” I asked, trying to place her and coming up blank.

“I usually attend your fights. You know, the ones in the warehouse. You’re always understandably distracted, so I’m not surprised you haven’t noticed me. How have you been?”

“I’ve been fine, I guess. Just trying to get acquainted with the business my uncle left me.”

“A daunting task, I’m sure,” she said. “I don’t envy you in that regard, though thanks to your uncle you shouldn’t want for money for the rest of your life.”

“True,” I said. “But I really want to learn all I can. Can you tell me a bit about this gallery? Santori didn’t share much with me concerning business, and it’s really left me at a disadvantage. I guess he thought I was just a dumb kid.”

I laughed, and she joined in. “Yes, he could be like that. The man was a control freak, and I say that with much affection.”

Affection. It seemed genuine.

After we stared at each other for a moment, she seemed to remember my question.

“Oh, you want to know something about the gallery? I’m afraid there’s not much to tell. We host private shows several times a month. Wealthy patrons show up, drink gallons of wine, and spend money. I’m sure it would be quite boring to someone as physically oriented as yourself.” Her eyes swept my body, as if she was imagining what I looked like under my clothes.

Not shying away from the attention, I allowed my eyes to sweep her in return. She was a beautiful woman, probably in her late fifties or early sixties, with more curves than a mountain road. Her appearance and demeanor screamed money and reserved sex appeal, but there was something in her green eyes that gave me pause.

Suspicion? Animosity?

“I’d love to come to a show,” I told her, flashing a broad smile and trying to win her over.

I wanted her to see the boy who had walked around with his head up his ass rather than the man who was trying to pick her for information. I couldn’t tell if I was succeeding. I had a feeling a woman like Stella could mask her thoughts nearly as well as Santori. She was a shark, too. Of that I was certain.

When my not-so-subtle hint didn’t garner me an invitation, I got direct. “When is the next show? I’ll clear my schedule. Drinking wine and looking at paintings sounds like fun.”

“Oh.” She pouted, and it looked almost sincere. “I’m sorry, Mr. Santori, but we don’t have anything scheduled at the moment. I’ll be sure to give you a call when we have another one, though.”

I thanked Stella for her time and left, sensing that I had lost that round. More than ever, I was convinced that the people who worked for me were trying to keep me shut out just like Santori had always done.

Well, I had news for Stella, and for anyone else who thought they had the right to treat me like a dumb kid. I wasn’t going to give up trying to take control of my own business. And if they didn’t start treating me with some respect, they were going to be on the unemployment line. I was the boss now. I had the power.

When I arrived back at the Alcazar, my manager called to tell me I’d been offered a fight. I would be going up against Anthony Rodriguez, who was currently the number two Welterweight contender.

“Tell them hell yes,” I said. “I need this fight.”

I hoped that fighting would help me get back some sense of normalcy in my life. Not being allowed to sell the business for two years was killing me. Jamie was coming soon, and I wanted nothing more than to take the cash and wash my hands of everything except the Alcazar. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option.