Page 22 of Captivating

Maddox’s brother, Rome, straddles heavyweight and welterweight, but he’s one hell of a sparring partner no matter what weight he’s sitting at. Today, we stand across from each other, waiting for my father’s go, and the psychopath smiles around his black mouthguard when we get it. “With your shield?—”

“Or on your shield,” I finish, we tap knuckles, and I step to my right, knowing Rome is going to come at my weak left shoulder. My sparring partners don’t go light on me. It doesn’t do either of us any good.

The air from the missed hit flurries by my face. Rotating with fast feet, I get him with a one-two hook, nailing his jaw. The crazy fucker smiles as his head snaps back.

“Head in the game, Killer,” Dad yells, and we keep going. This is fun for us. People ask all the time why we do it... why we put our bodies through it when there’s a fifty-fifty chance you’ll lose every time you step in the cage. What they don’t realize is there’s no fifty-fifty chance. We train harder every day than everyone else in this industry so when we step in that cage, we know without a doubt we’re going to win. We don’t slack off between fights. We don’t go easy and get fat and lazy. We fight,take a few days to heal, and then we’re back here training again. Cade St. James won’t accept less. And while we might all bitch about his methods, there’s no bitching about the results.

Hands up and shoulders curved, he advances.

“To the mat, Killer.” Dad’s voice is loud enough to drown out everything else, but somehow, I still manage to hear my name and the delicate voice it comes from just before I take a fist to the jaw and get thrown back against the cage.

Fuck.

We break apart, and I see Lilah walking over to us. There’re no leggings today. She’s dressed in jeans that mold to her hips like they were made to cup her ass and black patent-leather high heels, high enough to make a man think about all the things he wants to do to her with those damn shoes on. A white button-down shirt makes her look just a little bit like a naughty librarian and definitely looks sexier than it should, which makes my brain hurt and my dick hard.

“Goddamn, Lilah Ryan would look so pretty on her knees,” Rome whispers, and I swing my fist with no finesse and knock him out.

Oops.

“Killer—” Dad yells as Lilah steps up to the mat, careful not to step on it in her shoes.

Good girl.

She remembers.

“Sorry.” I spit my mouthguard out. “I need a few minutes.”

I don’t wait to get my ass chewed out, even though I know it’s coming. And that shit’s definitely coming.

“Hi, Mr. St. James. It’s good to see you,” she says sweetly.

He takes in where she stands and the respect she just showed by not walking on the mats in her fancy red-soled shoes and groans. “Ten minutes, Killian. Don’t keep him longer than that, Lilah.”

“I won’t.” She smiles her sweetest smile, and Dad melts. Lilah has that effect on people. She always has.

I press my hand against the small of her back and urge her forward.

She goes with it but steels her spine under my touch. “Where are you taking me?”

“Brynlee’s office. She’s not here right now.” We move into the back of the gym and step inside one of the few rooms in this building that has a door.

“Wow... Your dad expanded,” she whispers, and pride swells in my chest. This place has been in my family for two generations. I was raised here, and I want to raise my own kids here... one day.

“Yeah. Everyone wants to be trained by the best, and Dad and Hudson are the best.” I close the door and watch her examining the pictures framed on Brynlee’s wall. She’s buying time. She wants to talk but not until she’s ready. There’s never been any rushing Lilah. She doesn’t play that way. “You doing okay, princess?”

“I hate that nickname.” The words don’t have the same strength they did the last time I saw her.

“No, you don’t,” I say more gently than last night. “Why are you here, Lilah?”

Her shoulders rise and fall with a deep inhale, and giant diamond stud earrings glint under the harsh fluorescent light when she finally spins around. “Would you believe me if I said I don’t know?”

Her eyes are so blue you’d think contacts made them that color, but they’re all her.

They get darker when she cries, but she never lets anyone see that.

At least she didn’t used to.

Long, black lashes kiss her cheeks as she closes her eyes, seemingly gathering her strength. Every muscle in my body contracts. This girl is about to ask me for something, it’s written in every tightly held line of her body, and she hasn’t asked me for anything in so damn long.

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