Page 20 of Untamed
Still… my mind is on Ember. The asshole who disrespected her, the fire in her eyes.
Is she feeling the pull between us? Is that why she hasn’t responded to me?
I groan when my phone dings with another notification. I have to get my ass to the gym and ground myself in sweat and hard work so I stop this bullshit already.
But when I check my phone… it’s her.
My heart tumbles in my chest. I click the message.
Dreammafiaqueen
You don’t need to fight my online battles with those self-serving comments, thank you very much. I can handle myself. I don’t answer online pricks. I leave them because the more engagement my posts get, the more follows I have, and unlike some people, I’m not just doing this for attention.
I stare at the screen and frown, my fingers flying over the screen.
Excuse me for defending your honor. The prick deserved it. If I?—
Her response comes before I finish mine.
Dreammafiaqueen
You don’t have to threaten the guy. That’s illegal and you could get kicked off here, you know.
Worth it. And it wasn’t a threat.
Dreammafiaqueen
Oh, roll my fucking eyes. As if you’re going to track down some anonymous loser and defend the honor of a woman you’ve never met over a stupid comment? Dude. Get a grip.
I narrow my eyes at the screen. I’ll get a grip alright, a grip of the fiery red hair wrapped around my fist that would get her attention loud and clear.
I think you spelled ‘thank you’ wrong.
I hit send, shutting down the conversation before she has the chance to reply. Tossing my phone onto the couch, I let the words linger in the air. She thinks I’m bluffing. She thinks this is just some harmless back-and-forth online.
I guess I can’t blame her.
She doesn’t know me.Yet.
I grab the phone, heart hammering with something sharp and hungry. I scroll fast, zeroing in on a name that’s proved useful: a fixer from my last job in L.A.
One call. One favor. Her location is mine before I hang up the phone.
Perfect.West side gym. My lip curls, adrenaline spiking as the address blinks on my screen, a live, pulsing dot. Like she’s waiting for me.
She’sright there,dangling within my reach like she was placed in my path on purpose.
I strip down, throw on workout gear, and slide my phone into my pocket.
The whole way there, I feel like I’m chasing something I’m meant to catch. Like if I don’t make it there faster, she’ll slip through my fingers.
When I walk into the gym, the scent of rubber mats and faintly metallic sweat fills my nose. A receptionist glances up, eyes widening slightly at my imposing figure. “Hello, sir! Are you here to sign up?”
I look around and don’t see her yet. Thankfully, she wouldn’t recognize me.
First, I’m not wearing a mask. I guess those masks serve a purpose. Second, I have a long-sleeved shirt on covering my tattoos. She’s heard my voice by now, but I don’t need to talk to her.
I nod, handing her my credit card without hesitation. “Yeah. Sign me up. I’ll fill out whatever forms you need later.” I lean in and flash her my most charming smile. “I’m pressed for time. Could you do that for me?”
