Page 37 of Dante
He swore beneath his breath.
"What do you want me to say, Courtney?"
"I'm not following." She was deliberately obtuse but did not care.
"Stop being so damn polite," he snapped. "We need to talk."
"Would you like to do so over the phone?"
"No, dammit." He had to get a grip on his emotions. "Look, I need to think about what this means. Where to go from here. I have never done this sort of thing before and I have no idea how to navigate."
"If you're thinking I'm going to sue, you can be assured that's not going to happen."
He laughed mirthlessly.
"I was not considering that aspect, but now I am."
"You have nothing to worry about," she told him stiffly. "Is there anything else?"
There was so much he wanted to say, but he had to get his head on straight first.
"Yes. No." He sighed. "I'll see you when I get in."
"Goodbye Mr. Livingston."
"Stop calling me that!" he snapped angrily. "Don't you think it's a bit ridiculous for you to be so formal? For God's sake, we've seen each other naked, have committed the most intimate of acts. The least you can do is call me by my first name."
"I don't think that's appropriate."
"You're pissing me off."
"I apologize."
"I'll see you when I get in." His voice was curt and before she could respond, she heard the dial tone in her ear.
Putting the receiver down, she pressed her lips together and clasped her hands in front of her. Her heart was hammering, and she could feel the queasiness in her chest.
"Not now," she whispered wearily. "Please not now." Pushing away from the desk, she went to her little kitchenette to make some tea.
The Gentlemen Boxers was in the center of the business district and catered to men who wanted to let off steam and just go a round or two in the boxing ring. It was open twenty-four seven and was a swanky red brick building that had once been owned by a group of lawyers. When they had to liquidate their assets, including the building they had tried to cling to withdeathlike intensity, the building had been taken over by a former international professional boxer who had hung up his gloves due to a debilitating spasm in his right hand.
Joseph Manchester had bought the building and not wanting to let go of his love of the sport, he had simply turned the place into a sporting ring that catered to the upper echelon of society. He had been clever enough to garner the interest of the businessmen, the movers and shakers and offered exclusive membership for those who could afford his exorbitant fee. One which included professional training, amateur fencing and boxing, steam rooms, a sports bar where one could relax after a sweaty bout of pummeling and drinks, gallons of expensive liquor.
It was also conveniently located and easily accessible.
And a way to blow off steam whether it was early in the morning or late at night. Members were always catered to and their needs met.
"Whoa!" Jackson held up a hand as he staggered back from the blow to his chest. "This is starting to feel like a professional event." He looked around. "I expect to see people cheering uson and money exchanging hands. What the hell is up with you man?"
"You're getting old and weak," Dante sneered as he removed his headgear and dumped it on the padded floor.
"I'm not old," Jackson sneered right back as he unhooked his helmet. "It's just that you have been coming at me like a bat out of hell." Sweat dribbled down his forehead and into his eyes, making them sting. "Are we done? Are all your demons exorcised for the day?"
"Well if you cannot handle it."
"Kiss my ass," Jackson declared cheerfully and pulled apart the rope to get out. "I'll meet you in the steam room."
Dumping his gear, Dante nodded to the men coming in and headed straight for the large room designed to relax them while they boiled.
