Page 20 of Mean Machine

“To my fights?”

Nathaniel nodded. “I secured it early, so I’m rather optimistic I’ll be able to enjoy seeing you take your first title.”

Damn, it was hard to dislike the man if he was so convinced Brooklyn would win. He wasn’t always sure himself, but there was not a hint of doubt in Nathaniel’s eyes or voice. It wasn’t fawning, wide-eyed admiration either. Nathaniel wasn’t a “fan,” not one of the screeching people that jostled to catch a glimpse of him when he went into the ring or to the car. In his own way, Nathaniel was as matter-of-fact about this as Les was.

The arrival of their steaks gave Brooklyn another moment to gather his thoughts. “It’s weird knowing somebody in the audience.”

“I can imagine.” Nathaniel soaked up some of the juice with a slice of baguette. “You have to concentrate completely on the fight. It’s not like you can afford to worry about anything else. I can see that. You become one with the fight. All the things that close off your face normally, they’re all gone when you fight.”

Brooklyn paused between bites of steak. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“You look like a completely different man when you’re fighting. You’re gorgeous.”

Brooklyn shrugged and cut off another piece. “And when I’m not fighting? What do I look like then?”

“Like a—pardon my French—a mean motherfucker.”

Brooklyn laughed, and Nathaniel gazed at him a lot more fondly. Again. Fuck, he was a hard one to deter. “That’s what I am.”

“No, that’s what you were reduced to.” Nathaniel dropped the rest of the bread and turned to the meat. “Ironic that you look a lot less mean and bitter when you’re hurting another man.” He leaned forward. “But you also look like that when you sleep. You wonder why I did things the way I did? To see that expression in your eyes. To imagine, for a moment, kissing you without fearing for my neck.”

“What would you do?”

“Put that expression on your face again.” Nathaniel smiled wistfully.

Brooklyn shifted on the seat. Nathaniel was just saying this shit because somebody like him could say whatever to somebody like Brooklyn and would never have to own up to it. Children and pets could be spoken to like that.

Still, it had an effect. Nathaniel was right here and gagging for it. The only thing between Brooklyn and some quality time was his bloody pride. He could follow Nathaniel to his hotel room or return to his much less cushy accommodation with Curtis and Les, no sex or breakfast included.

“Dessert?” Nathaniel asked.

Too many cheesy answers for that. Brooklyn shook his head, turning to catch a glimpse of Les. The trainer looked up, met his gaze, and nodded. Brooklyn turned back to Nathaniel. “Let’s skip that part and go fuck.”

Nathaniel chuckled and looked up when Les drew closer. “It appears that Brooklyn will join me at my suite. Could I make use of your guard?”

Les quickly glanced at Brooklyn and then back to Nathaniel. “He’s expected back in London on Monday. I could drop his papers off at reception.”

Nathaniel pursed his lips. “That would be good, thank you. I apologise for interfering so much with his schedule.”

Les shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “A change of scenery might be good for him. He’s been working very hard.”

Nathaniel gave Les a downright angelic smile. “Thank you.” He reached inside his pocket, pulled out some notes held together with a metal clip—euros and sterling—and placed two fifties on the table. “Let’s go.”

NATHANIEL HADa driver. Who drove a limo. Brooklyn sank into the black leather seats, feeling suddenly weird about it all. But at least Curtis joined the driver in the front, and the glass separating them was darkened.

Nathaniel sat down near him, close, but not touching, one arm on the back of the seat, half turned to Brooklyn.

“What?”

“Just watching you.”

“And?”

“Enjoying it.” Nathaniel’s expression was so open, so friendly, Brooklyn thought of Cash. Few people in the world had that kind of warmth in their eyes.

Nathaniel got his kicks in a strange way, but he didn’t seem like a bad guy overall. Brooklyn glanced out the window at the houses and caught a glimpse of a river glittering in the night. If there were any posters in this part of town, he didn’t spot them.

After a few more minutes, the car stopped in front of a hotel, and somebody opened the door for them. Only Curtis had to open his own door. The guard trotted behind them as Nathaniel led the way into the building—all polished stone floors, glass, and wood surfaces.

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