Fighting Attraction

by Sarah Castille

Still in shock, I follow her to an office at the end of the hallway. A dark-haired man wearing a sleek Italian suit and crisp white shirt open at the neck greets us from behind his desk. Power radiates from him, and he fills the ornately decorated room with the force of his presence alone.

  “Are you Damien Stone?” Still reeling from my encounter with Rampage, I barely register Kitty backing out the open door.

  “I am.” He holds out his hand. “I believe you have something for me.”

  I hand him the envelope and pull out my cell phone to make a note of the time.

  “Cell phones aren’t allowed in the club.” He rips open the envelope. “You agreed to that when you signed the waiver.”

  “I was just noting the time. We need it for the affidavit of service.” I hold up the phone for him to see, and he gives me a cold, hard stare.

  “You also agreed to be punished if you broke the rules, which you just have done.”

  My blood chills, and I take a quick glance behind me to make sure the door is still open. Although Kitty has disappeared, the hallway is empty, and my escape route is clear. “I wasn’t taking pictures or recording anything.”

  “There are no qualifications to the rule.” He skims the documents and tosses them on his desk. “And since you seem determined to put me out of business, I see no reason to exercise any leniency.”

  “Whoa.” I take a step back and then another, my hands flying up in a defensive position. “First of all, I’m not a lawyer or the claimant in the case. I’m just serving the documents. And second, I haven’t done anything wrong. I didn’t agree to be punished for doing my job.”

  Damien rounds on me, moving so quickly I stumble in my haste to retreat. “You did agree. Now, I’m wondering how best to teach you a lesson.”

  “If you touch me, I’ll scream.”

  Amusement glints in his eyes, and he reaches for my hair, tangling my ponytail around his hand before he yanks, forcing my head back. “Scream, then. I love the sound.”

  Maybe he thinks I’m one of those women who don’t like to cause a scene, a woman who’s afraid of the adrenaline rush, a woman who can’t take a bit of pain. Boy, has he pegged me wrong.

  I scream. Just like I screamed in delight when Vetch Retch picked me out of the crowd and pulled me onstage; like I screamed in horror when I caught the love of my life in bed with another woman; like I screamed with joy when Rampage won his fight.

  Footsteps ring out in the hall behind me.

  “What the fuck?” Rampage storms into the office, chest heaving, a scowl on his handsome face. “Christ, Damien. What are you doing?”

  For a moment, I am stunned into silence. He is breathtaking. And not just because he is wearing tight leathers, snug in all the right places, and a form-fitting T-shirt that shows off every ripple of his abs. He is beautiful in his darkness, glorious in his anger, and my body trembles when he catches my gaze.

  Master Damien tightens his grip on my hair. “She signed the agreement. She broke the rules. She threatened to scream if I touched her. You know I can’t resist a challenge.”

  “Let her go.”

  Electricity crackles in the air between them. Although the two are evenly matched in presence, Rampage is taller by at least two inches, broader, and more muscular. And, seriously, does Master Damien really think he can compete with a professional MMA fighter in his prime?

  Still, Master Damien is clearly not a man to be pushed around. With a jerk of his chin he directs Rampage’s attention to the papers on his desk. “She served the club. Gerry Turner made his move. He’s trying to shut us down.”

  “Fucking bastard.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” Master Damien gives my hair a tug. “I thought I’d take out my frustrations on this little rule breaker.”

  “Then you’re no better than Turner.” Rampage lifts an eyebrow in warning. “I’ll deal with her.”

  “She waited four hours to come in.” Master Damien finally releases me, and I rub my head. “You’d better give her a taste of what she wants.”

  Rampage’s gaze flicks over me, and he clasps my hand. “Come.” He stalks out of the room, half leading, half dragging me behind him. The hallway becomes a blur of light and color until he pushes open a side door and leads me into a small parking lot behind the building.

  “You signed the waiver?” he asks, releasing me so abruptly I stumble back.

  “Yes, but…”

  “Then you understand you don’t talk about anything you saw here.” His lips press together, and he fixes me with a glare. “And if you even think about it, what Master Damien was going to do is nothing compared to what I will do.”

  My mouth opens and closes again, and my brain is unable to reconcile this fierce, angry, threatening man with the Rampage I know who has only ever been violent in the ring or with people who have wronged someone he cares about.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were here. Amanda needed someone to serve the documents.”

  “Amanda.” He rakes his hand through his hair and shakes his head. “Christ. I didn’t know she was involved.”

  “I won’t tell her about you.” I pull out my phone and hold it up. “I just recorded the time of service. That’s all that goes in the affidavit. Time, address, and confirmation of identity. Nothing else.”

  Rampage heaves a sigh. “Where are you parked? I’ll walk you to your car. It’s too late for you to be walking around here alone at night.”

  He walks silently beside me down the road. I have so many questions about the club and what he does and what goes on and what he was doing with that woman, and isn’t he worried someone will find out and destroy his professional career? But mostly I want to know if I can become a member and if he will do that with me. However, his grim demeanor dissuades me from saying anything more than “This is my car” when we reach the parking lot.

  “I’m sorry,” I say again as I unlock the door.

  “Stop saying that.”

  “Sorry—” I cut myself off when he glares. “It’s a British thing. Tea and apologies are part of our DNA. If someone knocks you down in the street, you say sorry for getting in his or her way. And anytime anything happens—death, war, marriage, babies—we have tea.” I give a little shrug and continue to babble. “Well, except for me because I like coffee. I don’t suppose…”

  “Go home, Pen.”

  I can’t tell from his tone whether it’s pity he feels for me, disgust, or anger. But I do know something is broken between us. I feel like I’ve just lost a friend.

  So I go home. And then I take out my little box of razor blades and cut myself until all my pain goes away.

  4

  Why are you looking at me like that?

  RAMPAGE

  Until yesterday, my life was stable. I had made it in the MMA world, finally going pro after years of training. Blade Saw and I had finally turned a profit in our distillery business. My sometime play partner, Sylvia, had finally accepted that our relationship was never going to extend outside Club Sin despite that one hot night we had together after a party. I had a room at the club where I could indulge my kink without any risk of public exposure. And I had resigned myself to being forever alienated from my family.

  Now, everything has gone to hell.

  And all because of Penny.

  Shifting on the weight bench in the middle of Redemption, I press the bar straight up above my chest. Blade Saw, my spotter, makes approving noises behind me, while around us people grunt, groan, run, jump, punch, kick, row, strike, and grapple in the twenty-five-thousand-square-foot warehouse that Torment built from the shell of a packing crate factory. When I first joined Redemption, we had a few mats, a makeshift fight ring, and a rack of free weights. Now we have a cardio area with three long rows of equipment, a sea of weight machines, benches and free weights, rowing machines, and stretching mats.
The walls have been painted bright shades of blue, red, and green, and over in the practice area, grapple dummies line the walls like an army of soldiers. After I accepted MEFC’s offer to go pro, I could have trained at any gym in the country. But Redemption is my home.

  I try to focus on the bar, on the burn in my arms, on the drumroll of speed bags and the whirr of the cardio machines, the clank of weights, the scents of sweat and vinyl mats, and the murmur of voices, but all I can think about is her.

  Damn Damien for letting her into the club. Although he had no way of knowing we knew each other, he could have just met her in reception instead of telling Kitty to bring her to his office. What the hell was he thinking? And Penny. Christ. Just the thought of her at Club Sin makes my stomach twist in a knot. I can’t imagine anyone less suited to a BDSM club, or anyone I would have wanted less to discover my secret. Penny is the antithesis of Club Sin. She is sweetness and light, delicate and feminine, soft and pretty. Definitely not the girl for me. Been there. Done that. Got my heart ripped out to prove it. Learned the hard way what happens when darkness meets light.

  “Whoa, buddy.” Blade Saw grips the bar, catching it as my arms shake. “You’ve never had trouble with that weight before. What’s up?”

  “Nothing.” I sit up, run my hand through my hair. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s how to hide what I feel and who I am. Even Blade Saw, my best friend and business partner, doesn’t know about Club Sin.

  “Maybe you should’ve taken a day off after the big fight.” He racks the bar for me and pulls off the weights. “You could have gotten lucky last night. That ring girl who was falling all over you after the fight was at Score asking about you.”

  “Not my type,” I mutter.

  “What about Penny?” He adds lighter weights to the bar, and we change positions. “The way you went after that bastard over at the pool table, I thought you were finally gonna make your move.”

  “What do you mean ‘finally’?” I lift the bar off the rack and hold it while Blade Saw lies on the bench and adjusts his grip.

  He looks up at me and grins. “Everyone knows you’ve got a thing for her. That’s why we all stay away.”

  “I don’t have a fucking thing for her.” I purposely drop the weight a few seconds before he’s ready, and he grunts in annoyance. “She’s a friend.”

  “Sure. You risked your career beating on Juice Can in the middle of the stadium after a professional fight ’cause she’s a friend.”

  “You want that bar on your fucking throat?” I don’t know what the hell is wrong with Blade Saw. Usually he’s the most laid-back member of the team, always chill, never rocking the boat, never prying into a dude’s business…

  He pushes the bar up, his arms shaking with the effort. “So.” He locks and lowers, straining against the weight. “If you’re not interested in Penny, I’m gonna ask her out.”

  Jesus fucking Christ. Not going to happen. I can’t have her, and it’s not fair of me to stand in the way, but Blade Saw and Penny?

  “Her friend Cora was checking you out.” I try a diversion tactic instead of breaking my best friend’s arm.

  “Seriously?” Blade sits up on the bench. “She was hot, and my family would love to see me with a Southern girl.”

  As did mine. And now Avery is part of the family. Just not with me.

  “I didn’t think she’d go for a guy who only had a business degree,” he continues. “She’s super smart. She’s getting a master’s in engineering.”

  “You’re not a moron.” I pat him on the back. “I wouldn’t have gone into the distillery business with you if you were.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  His gaze flicks over to the workout area where Fuzzy, a cop by day and MMA coach by night, is teaching his Punch or Perish class that I’m doing my best not to watch because Penny and Cora are there. So far, I’ve only looked over every thirty seconds or so, preparing myself in case Penny gets it into her head to talk to me about last night.

  “Maybe they’d be interested in a threesome,” he muses. “I could have them both.”

  Don’t hit him. Don’t hit him. Don’t hit him.

  I hit him.

  “What the fuck?” Blade Saw jumps up, holding his jaw. Fucking pansy. It was only a light jab.

  “Slipped.”

  His face twists into a scowl. “You think I don’t know you, but I do. What’s the worst that can happen? You ask her out and she says no. You move on. Look at me. I fell for Sandy. Got dumped. Got back together with her. Got dumped. Fell for Jess. Got dumped. Not much of my heart left, but I’m still standing and taking shit from you.”

  “I’m not good for her,” I say honestly. “She’s sweet and innocent. She looks like she stepped out of one of those romance movies where they run through fields of flowers. She needs a good guy, a nice guy. Not someone like me.”

  Blade Saw snorts a laugh and wipes himself down with a towel. “Are we talking about the same Penny? The girl who jumped on stage and rocked it with the death metal front man or who goes crazy on the dance floor whenever we’re at a bar? The girl who tore the head off one of the submission dummies and made it through Fuzzy’s beginner classes in record time? You’ve got selective vision, my friend. There’s a lot more to her than sweetness and light.”

  And there’s more to me than even my best friend knows. We all have our secrets. But some are more dangerous than others, and there’s no way I could ever involve Penny in the dark side of my life.

  * * *

  After working out with Blade Saw, I meet my coach, Andy, to go over the schedule for next week. It took me a while to get used to the fact that going pro is not a solo event. In addition to MEFC, I now have a team behind me, including my manager James, my agent, a fitness trainer, a public relations consultant, and a nutritionist. Torment is also part of my team as a coach. They handle all the details so I can focus on training for the next fight.

  We spend a few hours going over some new moves and practicing technique before I finally hit the shower, then head out the door.

  “Rampage.”

  Although I’ve managed to avoid Penny all evening, my hopes of a clean escape are dashed when I hear the tap of heels on the floor behind me. Damn Penny and her sexy little shoes. Most men love women in stilettos, and at Club Sin, the rule is the higher the better. But Penny, in those fucking little heels with the sides cut out, drives me insane.

  Everything about Penny drives me insane. From her silky brown hair to her creamy complexion, and from her soft curves to her feminine clothes. If I wasn’t who I was, with the secret she now knows, I would have asked her out the first day she stepped foot in Redemption. But girls like Penny don’t belong with sadists like me. I learned that lesson the hard way.

  “Can I talk to you?” She runs up behind me, catching my arm as I push open the door.

  “No.”

  “Please. Just for a minute.” She follows me out into the dark parking lot, panting as she struggles to keep up.

  “No.”

  “Why are you acting like this?” Penny tugs on my arm, forcing me to stop. “You’ve been avoiding me all night. You won’t even look at me. I’m not going to say anything. We’re friends, and friends don’t do that to each other.”

  Maybe not, but in my experience friendship ends when shame begins. Although it’s been years since I’ve told my secret to anyone outside Club Sin, the sense of shame still lingers. Yes, I’ve accepted I have needs that are considered unconventional, and I’ve found a community that embraces the world of kink, but I still can’t stop seeing myself as my family sees me—a disappointment, a failure, and a freak.

  Or, as Avery put it before she married my younger brother Beau on what was supposed to be our wedding day, a monster.

  “We’re not friends.” I turn to face her and almost drown in her deep blue ey
es. “We’re acquaintances. And, yes, obviously it’s a concern given that I’ve just gone pro and I’ve already had reporters digging into my background.”

  “This isn’t about you,” she says as I turn to walk away. “It’s about me. I want to become a member of Club Sin. I want what you did.”

  Jesus Christ. Penny at Club Sin? “You have no fucking idea what goes on there.”

  Her lush lips press tight together. “I was there. I blooming well know what goes on.”

  Despite my irritation, I have to fight back a smile. Although she’s clearly angry, her attempt at swearing in that clipped British accent is sexy as hell.

  “It’s not a fucking game.” My fist curls around the handle of my bag, and my family ring bites into my finger. I should have taken it off when the family disowned me, but it was the one thing I couldn’t leave behind when I walked away. Now the heavy silver band bearing the Caldwell family crest is a burden I carry to remind me of what I could have had and who I could have been if I wasn’t so fucked up.

  “I know it’s not a game.” Her shoulders sag, and she twists the ring she wears on a chain around her neck. I’ve always wanted to know why she wears that damn ring. It’s a man’s ring, thick and heavy and too big for her delicate fingers. Did she have a man? I know she doesn’t have one now. Although she can never be mine, I’ve kept tabs on her through Ray, watched out for her when she’s been out with the team, and at night, when I’m alone…

  “It’s not a silly little fantasy, like you read in books.” My heart thuds in my chest as I try another tactic to dissuade her. “You want that; you want to try it out; you want what you read in books or see in the movies, there are plenty of places in San Francisco you can go.”

  Even in the dim light, I can see her anger rise. Her cheeks heat, her lips press into a thin line, and her eyes narrow.

  “Don’t be so condescending,” she snaps. “I know about the other clubs. I spent all night researching them when I was supposed to be sleeping and all day reading about BDSM when I was supposed to be working. I want to try it, and I don’t want to go anywhere else.”