Page 35 of Tangled in Vows

Her lower lip juts out.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“You’ve taught me self-defense, remember? I’ll be fine. Promise.”

I close my eyes and groan. This little troublemaker.

“Pretty please, Holden? I’ll take over dinner duty for the entire next week.”

Now she one-hundred-percent knows she’s got me. Although we live in two connected apartments, we share most of our meals. And she knows I love her cooking.

Plus, I’ve always sucked at saying no to her. “We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”

She kept her word, staying with Tom the entire fight. And the second my win was announced, and I jumped out of the ring, she greeted me with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on her face. Hugging me despite my bloody and sweaty appearance, celebrating me like I’d just won a championship.

She had me wrapped around her finger back then, and it appears I still suck at saying no to her. Plus, I welcome this distraction from our problems.

“Fine, let’s go.” Without overthinking it, I open the bathroom door and usher her into the crowded hallway. We get a few bewildered glances from people, but thankfully, it’s dimly lit, and most of them are too busy chatting or making out uninhibitedly. With my arm protectively around Olivia, I lead her through a cloud of alcohol and perfume to the elevator on the far side and push the button.

I stare at the shiny reflection of us—my bulky frame next to her curvy beauty. Olivia is watching too, both of us still as statues while a low hum heats my blood.

I want to grab her and press her against the elevator door . . .

Ding.

The elevator arrives, successfully popping my lust-filled bubble.

We step inside, and I activate the ride by pushing my thumb on the fingerprint scanner again—only the best security for our clubs.

Olivia stares at the button. “Does every fighter have their fingerprint in the security system of this club?”

I could lie to her. Easily. But I don’t. “No.”

“Then why do you?”

Shit. There goes one of the secrets I kept from her. “Because I’m one of the owners.”

Her eyes bore into mine. “Of the club?”

“Yes, but I’m one of the silent owners, so . . .” I put my finger to my lips. “Shh.”

She’s quiet, and I know her wheels are turning. I’m so screwed.

“Do you own just this club or all of them?”

“All of them.”

She bites the corner of her mouth. “Do the other ones have secret underground clubs too?”

“Maybe.” I wink, trying to keep this lighter mood between us for as long as possible.

Avoiding our individual and shared pasts seems impossible, but I’d rather deal with that tangled web of secrets behind closed doors. And preferably without hurting Olivia anymore. I’ve already caused her enough pain. If it were possible, I’d take a knife to my own skin and bleed for every single tear she’s ever shed because of me. I’d do anything to spare her more agony.

Before she can ask me more questions, the doors open to a nondescript beige hallway and the unmistakable scent of sweat. Even our industrial cleaners can’t entirely mask it. Grunts and shouts from behind closed doors serve as background music, with a dark figure standing only a few steps away.

I let out a loud sigh. It’s Chase.

He whistles and grins widely. “Well, well, who do we have here? How’s it going, bossman?”

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