Page 64 of Stiletto's Savior

A part of me aches for something real, something to anchor my roots. And if Stiletto’s the one to help me plant those roots, then I’m all in.

“Here we go,” I say as we approach the gym.

It stands solid and inviting in the center of Billings. It’s a beacon of opportunity.

I park, eyeing her for a reaction.

“Looks... nice,” she says, squinting at the building.

“Yeah, I’m not disappointed by it at all,” I nod, feeling a surge of excitement. “Let’s see what’s inside.”

With a shared glance, we step out of the truck, the brisk Montana air wrapping around us.

She turns toward me, curiosity lighting up her hazel-green eyes. “Okay, so what’s your plan with the gym?”

I take a breath. “Mainly for a source of income, but I think it would be good for me to get in the family business.”

Her brows rise, interest piqued. “Okay, so like just a working out sort of gym, or are you specializing in MMA?”

“Both. At least, that’s what I’m thinking,” I pause for a second, choosing my next words wisely. “The way I look at it is that if we can make money through both, it puts us in a better position for profit.”

Song narrows her brows, “Us?”

I stop and laugh, “You don’t think I’m doing this by myself, do you? You’re my girl, Song. I’m hopin’ you’ll help me with all of the chaos I’m gonna have to deal with.”

She bites her bottom lip and tries not to smile, but nods.

I hope it means a lot to her, because I want her to feel included.

As we reach the entrance, my pulse quickens.

I glance back at her. “Ready?”

She grins, pushing the door open. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Inside, the smell of polished wood and rubber hits us.

It’s quiet, echoing our footsteps.

I can almost hear the future calling.

“Okay,” Stiletto whispers, taking it all in. “Not too bad. This place definitely has some potential.”

“Yeah, it does.” I’m honestly amazed. I kind of expected it to be a mess, but your money goes a hell of a long way out here.

Back home, you buy something for this price and you get a piece of shit with a leaky roof and cockroaches.

The real estate agent comes up to us, his polished shoes clicking on the floor.

I scan the space—high ceilings, big windows letting in soft light.

“So, I know you’re not aware of the area very well,” he starts, gesturing toward a wall of mirrors. “But, this is a prime location. There’s lots of foot traffic and I know if your plan is to turn this into a gym, it will work out. The only other gym in town is closing in three months. Owners are retiring and honestly their building has a lot of issues.”

“Good to know,” I murmur, scanning the space for any potential issues the agent might not be keen on telling me.

“Pros include ample space for classes and equipment,” he continues, flipping through his clipboard. “Cons? The HVAC system needs work, and the locker rooms could use a facelift.”

Stiletto glances at me, her hazel green eyes sparkling with excitement. “Nothing we can’t handle, right?”

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