Page 22 of Dirty Big Sins

While I stood there vibrating with angry energy, the look on his face did not morph into anger like I expected. In fact, I could read no emotion on him whatsoever. His gaze didn’t waver, and the intensity I felt earlier hadn’t lessened. It was as if Mr. Champion Boxer had set himself in stone.

“I think we should take the rest of this conversation somewhere more private.”

The chill in his tone made a shiver work down my spine as I realized what he was saying. I turned back toward Zack and his camera, but it wasn’t just the director staring back at me. The entire group in our booth had gone silent and half of them were sitting with their mouths agape and shock clearly written on their face.

I cringed. Guess I’d raised my voice a little too high that time around. Classic me. Open mouth, insert foot.

“I’m going back to the hotel. You can do whatever you want.”

Nina jumped to her feet. “We’ll all go. I think we’re starting to draw the wrong crowd anyways.” She tilted her head behind her and it was then I saw the real horror show. It wasn’t just Zack’s camera turned on us any longer. There were a few clubbers with their cell phones in their hands that could be filming or at the very least were taking pictures.

“Why is it every time I get within ten feet of you, my life tries to implode?” I hissed under my breath at Vincent. “We’ve been here all night without a care in the world and then you had to show up and ruin it. It’s obvious nothing good is ever going to come of whatever this is.” I stuck my finger in his chest and poked the hard muscle waiting there. “Time to get that through your thick head, Mr. Cabrini. We weren’t meant for anything more than what we already had. Time to let it go.”

The words coming from my mouth were meant to cut through whatever bullshit he wanted to feed me, but it was my heart that felt like it had been stabbed with every syllable. What exactly was wrong with me? I’d had more than enough time to think through this and the conclusions had all been the same.

Vincent was not meant for me.

At least this time I had the forethought to lower my voice before I broadcasted to the world that I’d slept with Vincent. More than once. But seriously? How long was it going to take for one of these people to put two and two together and realize it was me in that picture with him?

“I’m not letting anything go,” he said as he grasped my hand and pulled me behind him before he started down the steps from our booth. With that tiny touch, heat shot through me and my brain stuttered a moment. While I tried to shake that sudden fog, I followed him as he pushed us through the crowd as he both greeted and pushed away the onlookers like the pro he was.

He had a knack for drawing them to him while keeping them at an appropriate arm’s length. Both women and men smiled and cheered at him as he passed and it was easy to see why he was seen as one of the most popular boxers to grace the sport.

It took more than boxing talent to carve out a long-term career such as his. I knew because I’d done my homework this week. Of course I had. Out of sight had not meant out of mind and my curiosity in his case had gotten the better of me. I’d not only watched several of his fights on YouTube, but I’d also kept up with his current appearances that were all leading to his next fight in a matter of days.

We were almost through the throngs of people and close to the exit when Vincent came to a sudden halt and I crashed into his back. I grabbed at his arms to steady myself and I swore I heard a chuckle emanate through him as I did.

“I hope this means you’re leaving and not coming back.”

The menace in the voice that belonged to a man I couldn’t see caught me off guard. Was that?

I peeked around Vincent’s side and came face to face with Callum Murphy. Like Vincent, this man appeared giant although a little more on the lean side. Other than their height, the two men could not have been more different. While Vincent wore an expensive but classy black suit that hugged him to perfection, this guy was dressed in head-to-toe red.

Blood red to be exact.

He stuck out in the crowd in a way that felt forced to garner attention. Vincent had no need for that. He emanated a natural presence that seemed to draw people to him. Or maybe that was just me. I definitely had a bias when it came to him.

Also, where Vincent had a look that spoke rugged handsome in volumes, Mr. Murphy looked plain scary. With a crooked nose that probably meant it had been broken more than once and a jagged scar that went from the outer corner of his right eye to the middle of his cheek, he gave off a more overtly violent vibe that unsettled me.

I wouldn’t want to encounter him in a dark alley and I sure as hell wasn’t sure how I felt about these two meeting in the ring. Vincent seemed to have an advantage when it came to experience and sheer power, but Callum Murphy was a decade younger and instead of exuding strength he had a look of hunger that made me hesitate. Menace had been a good choice of word from the get go. I had the distinct feeling he would do anything to win no matter who got hurt.

He looked like someone who should be avoided at all costs.

“Outta my way, Murphy.” Vincent’s tone came out downright terrifying. Anyone with half a brain would get the hell out of the way before things got worse for them.

Apparently, Callum Murphy, didn’t meet that requirement. Not only did he not get out of the way, but when Vincent attempted to shoulder past him, he grabbed his arm.

“Get your fucking hands off of me,” Vincent said, shoving him away from him. “I told you I was leaving.”

“Is this your woman cowering behind you? I have heard the rumors that you like them weak.”

My back stiffened at both his comment and the snide tone that accompanied it. I was about to tear into him for being such a dick, when Vincent’s grip on my hand tightened. It didn’t take away the anger about to boil over, but it was enough of a signal for me to pull back.

“You don’t know shit about me, and I don’t give a fuck what you think about me. I’m not going to repeat myself, but I will fucking mop the floor with you if you don’t shut the hell up and get out of my way.”

Vincent’s voice vibrated with so much violence I didn’t understand how this man in front of him wasn’t scurrying away. As it was, they both went silent and I realized that everyone else had gone quiet too.

If not for the cell phones still trained on us, I might have given Mr. Punk Wanna Be Like Vincent But Couldn’t Even Get Close a piece of my mind.

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