by Meghan March
I inhale sharply, sucking back oxygen with the pain of his cruel words.
“Oh no, you didn’t—” Monroe bolts toward the fence, but I stop her with a hand on her arm.
“He’s not worth it, Monroe. He’s not worth another second of our time.” Coldness settles over me, and I stare into Chadwick’s mud-brown eyes. “You were the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. Thank God I realized it before it was too late.”
The blonde’s eyes are wide as she clutches her purse to her side and steps back on her towering heels. “I just remembered I have an appointment. I better go.” She’s gone in seconds, power walking away as fast as her stilettos can carry her.
Chadwick’s expression turns even more evil. “You’ll pay for this, Scarlett. I promise.” And then he huffs off down the sidewalk, knocking into people with every step.
“I hate that man,” Harlow says, ice coating every word.
“I wouldn’t call 9-1-1 if he was on fire,” Monroe adds with a shake of her head. “And I wouldn’t even feel guilty about it.”
They each reach out to grasp one of my hands after we take our seats at the table, and I squeeze back.
“I’m just glad he’s out of my life.”
“But what about your dad?” Monroe asks. “How doesn’t he see that fuckwad’s true colors?”
I shrug and shake my head. “I don’t know, but I think it’s time for me to let it go. I can’t carry that shit with me anymore. I’m done with him. Let’s order. I’m starving.”
Forty-Five
Legend
“Nice club. Really fucking nice. And it sure as hell looks like you designed it perfectly to fit a cage in the middle.” Gerard Poirier, the CEO of the fight promotion company, gives me an approving nod as we walk toward the door.
“I didn’t think we’d find anything to wow us like the one that the Feds raided. I’m damn glad I was wrong,” Bruce Liggett, Gerard’s second in command, adds.
“I’m glad you approve, gentlemen. We’d be happy to host your fight card for the right terms.”
Gerard latches onto my words like he’s been waiting for me to bring up the subject. “Standard contract. You get fifteen percent of the gate, all the money from the booze, and I’m sure it’ll put you on the map to get more events in here.”
From where he stands off to my left, Q shifts when he hears the 15 percent figure.
“I’m afraid you’re not in a standard situation, gentlemen. You need a venue that wows people, or you don’t have an event worth having.”
“What are you saying, Legend?” Bruce asks.
“I’m saying that fifteen percent doesn’t even get you past the front door. You need what I’ve got, and I know what it’s worth.”
Gerard crosses his arms, testing the strength of the thread holding the button on his suit coat. “How much do you want?”
“Seventy percent of the gate.”
“No fucking way,” Bruce fires back. “You’re out of your goddamned mind. We’ve never paid more than thirty percent.”
“And you lowball me with fifteen when you’re desperate?”
Bruce shuffles his feet. “We hear you’re desperate too.”
I lift my head to scan the interior of the club, with its massive columns and soaring ceilings. “Does it look like I’m desperate? This is my kingdom, and I set the terms.”
Gerard’s jaw rocks from side to side. “You want fifty-fifty.”
“Damn right. And if the fight isn’t already sold out, you should jack up the prices of the remaining tickets, because they’ll sell as soon as you announce the new location.”
Gerard’s gaze goes to the balcony that houses the VIP section. “We didn’t have a second level at the last place. View was damn good from up there. How many seats you think we can fit?”
I glance at Q, who’s already figuring.
“At least two hundred,” he tells the men.
Gerard nods. “We sell them at two grand a piece, split the gate fifty-fifty, and we both make what we need and no one gets greedy.”
“I can live with that,” I tell them.
Gerard’s mouth curves up. “Then I think we’ve got ourselves a deal—”
“One more thing,” I say, and both men stiffen.
“What?” Bruce asks.
“Your main event is weak. You think that’ll fill the seats?”
Bruce rocks from side to side. “The original matchup was better, but a fighter got hurt. We had to fill the spot with the best we could get on short notice.”
Gerard appraises me with interest sparkling in his eyes. “You got a better option for us, Legend? Because I hear Bodhi Black would like nothing more than to get his revenge in the cage.”
Bruce whips around to look at him. “It’s a sanctioned fight, not an underground match.”
“If I fight Black again, it’s going to be legit. Not underground. If you can make that happen, straight up, he’ll take this fight tomorrow, and we’ll put on the best show this city has ever seen.”
Gerard’s smile couldn’t get any bigger. “I’ll take care of the athletic commission. Those upper-level tickets are going to go for a hell of a lot more than two grand.” He holds out his hand. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Legend. I look forward to seeing you in the cage.”
I reach out and shake hands with him, praying to God that I know what the fuck I’m doing. “Get me the contract. We’ll sign it and make it happen.”
Forty-Six
Scarlett
I take my time in the shower, shaving every single inch of my skin below my shoulders that has ever grown hair. Tonight is the night. Our next step forward. And I feel freaking great about it instead of apprehensive.
See? This is what a healthy relationship feels like.
Bad Scarlett chimes in right after that thought. Psh, I just need to know what his dick feels like again because it’s been too long. We’re getting laid tonight! Three cheers for getting what we need!
With Bad Scarlett still in my head after I dry off and lotion up, I walk to my lingerie chest and open the second drawer. Inside, it’s an explosion of lacy underthings, most of which have only ever been seen by me. But that’s about to change.
Every time I purchased sexy lingerie, I felt like I was an imposter, because I wasn’t the kind of woman who would wear it for her man and watch it bring him to his knees. But tonight, as I pick out a sheer pale peach bra and panty set with strategically placed lacy flowers, I feel more like me than I have in years . . . or maybe ever.
It’s with a seductive and self-satisfied smile that I slip into the panties and adjust them on my hips before sliding on the bra and hooking it behind my back with the gold clasp.
I stand in front of the mirror, and instead of looking with a critical eye to pick out all of my flaws, I take a deep breath and appreciate what I see—a woman regaining her own power and self-confidence. It’s a beautiful sight that no amount of self-consciousness about cellulite or extra pounds can overshadow.
Besides, Gabriel Legend likes me for me. There’s something eminently satisfying, knowing that if he wanted a different kind of woman, he could have her. But he doesn’t, and that’s a hell of a confidence booster when I imagine him seeing every single inch of me in a few hours.
I’m getting laid! While angels don’t rejoice and sing the “Hallelujah Chorus,” they should, because that’s exactly how I feel.
I could have called Kelsey to do my hair and makeup, but I wanted to do them myself tonight. After I slip a short silky robe over my shoulders and tie it, I brush out my curls from yesterday, softening them around my face, and get started on my makeup. I keep it light and subtle, skipping eye makeup altogether, except for touching up my brows. After applying a tinted lip stain and some non-sticky gloss, I give myself a nod of approval.
Even Kelsey would give me a high five.
Plus, I finished with a solid forty-five minutes to spare.
I could work, but I indulge myself instead b
y picking up my phone and tapping the icon of my favorite social media app. I haven’t been keeping up with my favorite accounts as much lately, and I’m jonesing to see what the Winston triplets have been up to. It only takes a few minutes to find the page, and my face splits with a smile.
They’re playing with bubbles outside in a tiny yard, but the joy on their faces is absolutely pure. The caption reads:
* * *
The tenacious triplets filled the dishwasher with liquid hand soap yesterday, so now we’re obsessed with bubbles. Thankfully these ones aren’t flooding the kitchen. Sorry to our downstairs neighbor, Blanche. We really didn’t mean for that to happen. I promise I’m making cookies tomorrow as an apology! #LifeIsMessy #EmbraceTheMess #TheTripletEffect #BubblesEverywhere #ItWasSoHardNotToLaugh #TheirEyesWereSoBig
* * *
My giggles grow in volume as I read her hashtags. I don’t know how she still has her sanity, let alone her sense of humor, but you can feel the love shining from the photo and her words.
I’m going to post pictures and captions like that someday.
A vision of a tiny blue-eyed boy with messy hair and sticky fingers enters my brain, and I pause and imagine what it would be like to be his mom.
God, I want that so damn bad, I can feel it all the way down to the marrow of my bones.
Kids may not be for everyone, but they’re definitely for me. Although, I really don’t need three at once like Mrs. Winston.
Then another thought sneaks in. Does Gabriel want kids? That’s something I’ll need to find out. But not tonight. Tonight is about us and only us.
I lose track of time, and nearly drop my phone when the buzzer sounds at my back door.
I glance down at the robe I’m still wearing and consider throwing on something else. But . . . no. No, I don’t think I will. Might as well let him see exactly where my head’s at.
With a devilish smile on my face, I pad into the kitchen on bare feet and press the button on the buzzer.
“Can I help you?” I wanted to say something more risqué, but I chicken out when I consider the fact that it could be someone else at my door . . . which means I’ll have to run and change in a hot second, because Gabriel is the only person who gets to see me dressed like this.
“You help me more than you know, ladybug. I hope you’re hungry.”
Excitement buzzes through my body like electricity. “Come on up. I’m starving.” For you, I add silently as I hit the button to unlock the door.
I reorganize the flower arrangement on the center of the kitchen table for the few dozen seconds it takes for him to climb the three flights of stairs, and spin around to face the door when he knocks. With one more glimpse down at my robe, I smooth the lapels and step forward to open the door.
As soon as he sees me, his gaze turns hungry. Instantly, it’s clear I made the right decision.
“Jesus Christ. Holy shit.” He swallows, and the paper of the takeout bags crumples in his hands as his eyes devour me. “Fuck me. I sure as hell didn’t need to bring dinner, because you’re all I want.”
The heat of my blush tingles across my skin, but the smile tugging at my lips is the stronger sensation.
I casually adjust the knot before meeting his gaze once more. “I almost changed.”
He shakes his head as he steps forward, letting the door shut behind him. “Missing out on this sight would’ve been a tragedy. You are fucking beautiful.” He leans down to steal a kiss. “Goddamn, you make me want to skip dinner and spend all night devouring you.”
I bite down on my lip as he pulls away. “That sounds like a good plan to me.”
As soon as I finish speaking, my stomach growls, and Gabriel’s brows dive together.
“When’s the last time you ate?”
“Earlier. I’m fine.”
His lips twitch like he wants to smile, but he shakes his head. “You’re still healing. Burning through a lot of calories. You need to eat.” His blue eyes flare, equally full of concern and desire. “Trust me, you’re still going to get all you can handle tonight. That’s a promise.”
He lifts the bag between us and deposits it on the table. I want to protest, but my stomach growls again, this time even louder.
“Okay, fine. We fuel up, and then it’s game on.”
Instead of a lip twitch from Gabriel, I get a full-on grin and belly laugh that fill my heart with joy.
“Attagirl. Let’s eat, and you can tell me about your day. Did you get the tickets to the dinner you wanted to go to?”
Forty-Seven
Legend
Eating dinner across from Scarlett, while she wears a tiny cream-colored robe that covers everything I can’t wait to get my hands and lips on, is a new form of torture I would sign up to participate in every damn day of the week. Fuck, how is she so goddamn beautiful and funny and sweet?
She asks about Bump, and I take it as my opening to let her know about the promise I made him earlier today.
“He’s doing fine. You can see for yourself tomorrow for dinner, if you’re not busy.”
Her gray eyes light up. “I’m pretty sure I’m not busy, and if I am, I’ll take care of it. Where are we going for dinner?”
Her easy agreement and willingness to cancel anything on her schedule to fit in dinner with Bump does something to my chest. It squeezes tight and then releases, leaving a feeling of warmth behind.
I’m not used to having a smile on my face this much, but I can’t help it when I’m around her. She makes my life better just by being near. It’s something I’ve never experienced before, and I’ll fight to keep that feeling—and her—in my life.
Fight . . .
Fuck. I have to tell her about that too. But not until the contracts are signed and it’s a done deal. There’s no point in getting her concerned before there’s something to be concerned about. Besides, it’s not like I’ll keep it from her.
I need to start hitting the gym like it’s my second fucking job if I want a chance in hell of beating Black again. It’s our best path to being free and clear with the club.
I can do it. I have to do it.
“Gabriel?”
She says my name, which always sounds so fucking sweet on her lips, and I realize she’s still waiting for an answer.
“Sorry, the robe is distracting,” I reply with a wink. “I told Bump he could choose, so expect an arcade or something along those lines. He’s also obsessed with anchovy pizza, so don’t be surprised if that’s what he wants to eat.”
Her grin grows. “You had the honor of liberating me from go-kart virginity, so I’m up for whatever he picks.”
As soon as she says virginity, my mind goes straight back into the gutter. I wish the steak in front of me would disappear in the next five seconds so I could grab her off that chair and carry her into the bedroom.
Fuck me. When is the last time I wanted a woman this bad? Never.
Scarlett is in a league of her own, and it feels like everyone who came before her was preparing me for this moment. It’s weird to think in terms of fate, but I can’t help it. This feels so damn right, no matter what the rest of the world thinks.
“I appreciate you keeping an open mind. Bump has a good heart, and he really likes you.”
“I’m excited. Will Roux come with us too? You know, you could’ve brought her with you. She was really well behaved when she came up before.”
“What are you talking about? When was Roux here?” Confusion clouds my thoughts as I try to think of any time when Roux would have had the chance.
Scarlett bites down on the middle of her lower lip, and I want to tug it free of her teeth. “You know, that night . . . the night after the club when . . .”
Her halting explanation cuts at me, because of how much I hurt her that night. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for what I did, but in that moment, I didn’t know what else to do.
“Anyway, Bump and Roux came here looking for you. Zoe called a car to come pick them
up.”
“Ah. Got it.” I bow my head, my appetite gone. “I’m so fucking sorry for what I did that night, Scarlett. You’ll never know how much I wish I could take that back.”
When I lift my gaze to hers, she’s staring at me with no judgment or anger on her face. She reaches across the table, around the flowers in the center, and covers my hand with hers.
“You already apologized. Leave it in the past. I have.”
And with those simple words, I can’t wait any longer.
I need my woman.
Now.
Forty-Eight
Scarlett
Gabriel rises from his chair, sending it sliding across the marble floor of the kitchen. “You get enough to eat?”
Oh. My. God. The expression on his face is the most potent combination of need and desire I’ve ever seen. I take a mental snapshot, captioning it Gabriel Wants.
The anticipation that’s been riding me all day bursts back to the forefront, and my nipples harden into points. There’s no way he can miss them through my silky robe.
As I nod, my fork falls from my fingers, clattering on the table.
“Thank fuck.”
His words come out low and husky, but I don’t have time to think about them because Gabriel’s already moving my chair back and bending to pick me up. I’m weightless as he lifts me off the cushion. I wrap my arms around his neck, soaking up the heat of his hard body as need and want thrum in my veins. My heart rate skyrockets as he dips his head to breathe in the scent of my hair.
“I told myself we’d go slow this time.”
I turn my head to press a kiss to his jaw. “And I don’t care whether it’s fast or slow, so long as you’re inside me.”