Page 28 of Unleash Hades
He tapped something on his phone, and a few minutes later, a woman walked by with a slip in hand.
“Your bet, sir,” she said, leaning down, chest first, so that Bellamy got a good look at her cleavage. So did I. They were extraordinary.
“For you,” he said, handing me the slip. “A thousand on the She-bear.”
“What?” I balked. That was a ridiculously high number for a bet.
“I know, I know,” he said, sadly. “You’re probably cheering for the Frenchman, but I have it on good authority that he’s not going to be the victor here.”
“What authority?” Was it rigged?
I didn’t sit back in my seat. Not while Bellamy’s arm was still on the backrest. I’d hate to accidentally touch him... I might feel his scales.
Instead, I concentrated on looking at Hugo. The Legionnaire.MyLegionnaire.
My tongue grew thick in my mouth, as I remembered all the ways I had tasted his skin, his tongue, his…
He stopped his circle, his eyes landing on me. His mouth opened, just a little, before it shut again. His hard eyes softened, and the barest hint of a smile crossed his lips, disappearing as quickly as it appeared.
He inclined his head less than a centimeter, but it was enough to send a jolt into my dormant heart. It was a small gesture that meant so much to me.
“So, youdoknow him,” Bellamy said. “Interesting.”
IhatedLucien Bellamy. I hated him for spoiling this moment.
“I don’t know what you mean.” The lie was acid on my tongue.
I felt like Peter denying Jesus. I had denied Hugo so many times, even though the man in the ring was the greatest thing of my existence.
“You should really take me up on that drink, Cali,” Bellamy said, as he lifted a finger and a waitress came by with a drink - two whiskeys. Not one of the standards that were on the trays passed around.
I looked at his hand, his signet ring on his middle finger.
Of course, the Duke of Mouron would be known here, with a regular drink and everything. Bastard.
“We have more in common than you think,” He handed me the second whiskey, and I took it because as much as I disliked him, I disliked wasting a good drink.
“Doubtful,” I said, as I put my lips to the glass.
The smooth finish of a Macallan slipped down my throat and warmed my chest. I almost groaned in satisfaction, because itwas 25 years old, or more. I could tell by the color, the taste, the smoothness.
“We have the same good taste in alcohol,” Bellamy said in a cavalier tone. “Friendships have been based on much less.”
The bell rang, the sound filling the large warehouse, and the voices of the crowd momentarily hushed as the two fighters touched gloves.
In the ring, Hugo and the She-Bear were well matched.
My heart stammered every time she landed a blow on his body, the sound of slapping flesh tearing into my head like a drum.
She slammed her fist into his cheek. Blood spurted from his mouth. I faintly heard the sound of something crack. Did she break his nose?
I gasped, my hand coming to my stomach to stop the twisting of my gut. The Asian woman outside the ring was screaming, her voice loud, and accented. Her fingers clutched the chain link, shaking it with every command.
“Her name is Rose Legaspi Vasilieva-Green. A Filipino-Russian-Irish mouthful.” Bellamy said, as if he was announcing the entire fight for invisible cameras. “She was an Underground Champion, before she upset the old pakhan and had to disappear. The pakhan was executed, his brother took the throne and he adopted her, making her a Mafia Princess. It’s all very… dramatic.” He didn’t think that was a bad thing. Not judging by his smile. He was delighted. “They’re all so riveting, you know?”
I looked at the woman – the coach, and possible lover of my Legionnaire.
I shook my head, remembering myself, and coolly sat up. I crossed my feet at the ankles and forced expressions to melt away from my face. It was an exercise I had perfected withdarlingRichard.
