FIGHTING FOR MONEY IS AN animal.
A living, breathing animal that follows you step for step. It becomes who you are inside and out. You train daily. You eat, sleep and breathe fighting. Not because you love it, but because you love the money.
Thorn, the middle brother out of us, now he’s an exception. He loves fighting. He’s always got that cocky fucking grin on his face, just wishing a motherfucker would.
The youngest, Rush, he’s seventeen, and I’ve done all I could to keep him out of this life, even joined the Army as soon as I was seventeen to show him that money and a career could be gained outside of fighting since Jerry had pounded into our heads that we were meant—born to be fighters, I felt responsible to show him otherwise. So, I did what I remember our dad doing, and I served. There’s ten years difference between Rush and I, so I thought I had time. I didn’t. I’ve been sensing some changes in him lately and I can’t put my finger on it, but I will.
“You gonna lift or sit there and daydream?” Thorn leans down and says behind my ear as I sit on the weight bench, unwrapping my hands. This motherfucker.
Quick on the draw, I throw my arm behind me and wrap it around his neck, squeezing.
“What was that? I couldn’t hear you, whispering in my ear like a bitch and all,” I taunt. Sometimes I have to remind him who the oldest is. “What? No jokes this morning, dip-shit?” I give him a noogie like he’s six again, just to piss him off some more.
“Let me go and I’ll show you what I got, asshole.” He struggles against my hold and rolls out of it, slapping me on the back of the head. He straightens his clothes and looks at me curiously. “What the hell you daydreaming about anyway? Your ass finally get laid??”
“I’m touched that you care so much about my sex life, brother, but fuck off.”
“That’s a no,” Rush says as he walks up to us from across the gym. “He’s still got that poison running through his veins.” He snickers and bumps shoulders with Thorn.
“Speaking of sex lives, your high school-ass better not have one. So, that means we’re in the same boat. Right?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m keeping it clean.”
As he stands in front of me, I realize how big he is and why Jerry has been pushing him so hard to come down under. His reach is almost double mine and he’s got a good two inches on me. If it weren’t for that baby face, he might get mistaken for the oldest.
But for now, all my work to keep him away from this unsanctioned bullshit has paid off. He’s stayed away and stayed on his school wrestling team. But he trains with us and Jerry isn’t shy about bringing it up every fucking chance he gets. I’ll fight to the death to keep him away from that world.
“What’s everyone doing tonight for New Year’s?” Thorn asks, way too giddy for my taste.
“May go down the street to a friend’s house. Speaking of, I gotta get out of here,” Rush says.
“Later,” I call as he turns to leave.
I think about the text I got from Byron about the Elite party at Helaena’s.
“I may go up to Gold Coast, haven’t decided for sure.”
“I wanna know when you’re gonna take me to party with your rich friends. It hurts me right here.” He holds his chest. Thorn thinks he’s the funniest person in the room all day, every day. I’d never take him to an Elite party or I’d never be allowed back.
“Well, today ain’t the day.”
“What, you don’t think I can put on a suit and be a proper gentleman?
“Nope.”
“Goddamn right I wouldn’t.” He laughs at himself. “I’d end up bending one of those hoity-toity bitches over a table and show her what she’s been missing.” He leans back, slapping his chest and completely entertained with himself. “Besides, Johnny and the band’s in town. I’m pretty sure my night’s gonna blow yours outta the water.”
“Don’t get put in jail, motherfucker. You’ll sit there.”
“Shit, don’t worry about me. You need to worry about yourself for a change, you uptight bastard,” he says, walking backward, headed toward the door. He cuts his fingers into a ‘v’ and flicks his tongue. “And do us all a favor and get some pussy, would you?”
I flip him off.
Not that I’d tell him, but I intend on doing just that. If I find what I’m looking for.
I walk up the stairs and onto Helaena’s rooftop deck. There are a few new faces, but the rest I’ve seen from above. Or under and behind.
Before I joined, I’d decided I didn’t have the patience for traditional dates anymore. Plus, the number of surgeries I’d had the year before meant my schedule would be hectic, to say the least after recovery. Which is when my surgeon, Byron Markham, invited me as a guest to one of the Elite parties. I was sold after the first time, but everything loses its luster after a while and I got tired of the same five women all the time when none of them could really do it for me. I needed a challenge and I hadn’t planned to come back, but trying to acclimate back into normal dating life was more taxing than I thought it would be. I don’t have the time to deal with the clingy bullshit that comes with dating. Double edged sword.
I turn a coin between two fingers in the pocket of my suit pants, looking over the rim of my glass as the sweet sting of brandy coats my throat. There’s a sea of black around the room, like I’ve just entered a fucking funeral. What is it about business professionals and the color black? Like if they wear something bright it’ll ruin their fucking reputations.
It’s why I spot her so fast out of the fifty or so bodies around me.
The dress she’s wearing is a beacon of light in this room of so much darkness. It’s the color of ocean air and it fits her like a fucking glove, with just enough room for my imagination to run wild; floor to mid-thigh slit with two pieces that separate to show the creamy skin of her stomach. I slow my pace and drink her in, the flavor crisp, refreshing, more pleasing to my pallet than the fine coconut brandy in my glass.
She holds her phone in one hand pressed to her ear, empty champagne flute in the other. I flag down a waiter and grab her a full one, tipping the older man and standing four or five steps to her right. When she ends the call and places her phone in her clutch, she notices my presence.
“Hope I’m not interrupting,” I say.
She looks up and for the first time I see her face in its glorious entirety. Her eyes, long dark lashes selfishly shielding the rest of us from the crystal blue of her irises. The gloss she wears across that mouth of hers does little for my imagination that it couldn’t do all by itself. It’s fucking magnificent.
“Just checking on a friend.” She holds out her hand in introduction and I speak up before she can break the first rule of selection parties.
“Stone. Pleasure.”
She pauses momentarily, lips slightly parted before she wets her bottom lip with her tongue and presses them firmly together, taming a wide smile.
“Lydia. Nice to meet you, Stone.” Her hand lingers briefly in mine and I swear I feel the tip of her finger trace the hard calluses at the bend of my hand. She’s gathering information. Apparently, I’ve stumbled upon not only a gorgeous woman, but a smart one. “Thank you for taking pity and keeping silent company. I’m sure by now you can spot the newbies from across the room.”
“All I spotted from across the room was your body in that dress. I was instantly curious what came with it.”
Surprise flashes in her eyes, but the control she possesses takes charge and she straightens subtly.
“It’s nice to see a man wearing the suit instead of the suit wearing the man for once. What comes with the suit?” she asks, her curiosity genuine without a stitch of overt sexual charm. The question rings true of someone who wants to know more than just what I can do for her in the bedroom and I can’t help the unease that creeps up my throat and tries to hold my tongue hostage.
“You don’t strike me as the type of woman who’s ever done this.”
“And by this, do you mean ask a gorgeous man to bed? You look like you can handle it. Am I wrong?”
I expect her to press further, or maybe to break the rules and start laying out all the little details of what she’s looking for. But instead, she surprises me.
She opens her clutch and pulls out a black card, holding it out to me in invitation. She appears to read my concern, closing the distance between us and placing one hand on my shoulder as she slides the card into the breast pocket of my suit jacket with the other.
“In case you were wondering, I’m not here to find Mr. Right—” she whispers in my ear. “Just Mr. Fuck-me-right.”
It takes effort to keep shock absent from my features as she pulls away from my ear, looking me in the eyes before turning and walking toward the stairs.
Unexpected.
Not because I haven’t dealt with forward women or because it was anything but a total fucking turn on because with her it was. But because I’d read her completely wrong and that’s something I don’t do.
I want to go against my better judgment, run down those fucking stairs and bend her over the goddamn staircase railing, show her who Mr. Fuck-me-right is. But there’s no way in hell that’s going to happen. Which is a shame, because she’s definitely what I came here looking for.
Instead, I’ll stand here and look out at the city, sip on this brandy and think of all the ways I’ll repay her when I get between those long legs and show her who’s in control.