Page 26 of Ruthless Lord
It’s real living. Not the ivory tower crap I’ve suffered through, but the raw stuff.
Only problem is, about ten minutes after I perch at my favorite bar and ask for a glass of wine, a new fight begins.
And he walks out into the ring.
He’s stripped to the waist. A pair of small black shorts cover his massive legs. Old scars cross his chest and back. I swear, each of his shoulders is twice the size of my head. He limps as he walks, shuffling along like an old man, and I can almost hear him grunting and sighing as he climbs under the ropes and leans heavily against his corner.
Everyone starts to bet against him.
Anger and shame stir in my guts. Stefano looks beautiful waiting in that ring. I hate him for what happened to me, but I also know it isn’t his fault. I’m supposed to marry that beast. Only I don’t want anything to do with him.
At least I want a choice. That’s why I keep coming back to the memory of him and me together that night. I chose to go home with him. I chose to kiss him. To get down on my knees… to let him between my legs…
I wasn’t forced.
Like I am now.
The announcer calls the name of Stefano’s opponent. I watch more money change hands. Some young smug asshole struts across the fighting mat, staring Stefano down with a cold sneer.
For his part, Stefano looks more tired than anything else.
But when the battle begins, he comes alive. It’s shocking how quickly he goes from looking every one of his forty-plus years to suddenly attacking with a reckless obsession. I sit forward in my seat, fascinated by his tactics. I’ve seen enough of these to know his opponent is actually very skilled, but Stefano doesn’t seem to care.
He takes more hits than most fighters would. Every time there’s a risky move, he dives in without hesitation. He takes shots to the body, the jaw, the limbs, everywhere and anywhere, with enough force to incapacitate most normal men.
Stefano keeps going. He wears his opponent down, hitting back with powerful strokes, until he finally is able to get the young man down on the mat. They wrestle for a minute, but it’s clearwhat’ll happen. Stefano locks him into a submission hold, a simple arm bar, and the young man screams and screams until Stefano applies enough pressure to pop the elbow from its joint.
The bell rings and the bout’s over. Stefano climbs to his feet, limping and bloodied, moving slow and ponderously again, as the young man rolls from side to side, sobbing in pain.
There’s no pity in Stefano’s stare as he shuffles out of the ring, one knuckle kneading the small of his back, wincing with each step.
I turn back to my drink and stare at the glass. What kind of man is Stefano really? I just watched something terrible and special. It was an old warrior coming alive for a few brief minutes of vicious pain. I swear, his face was bright and glowing while he broke that young fighter’s arm.
The same look he had when he was deep inside of me.
It shakes me to my core. I finish my alcohol and get up, determined to end this right now.
I can’t let this farce go on any longer.
Dad’s going to ruin me. But Grandfather clearly doesn’t want that to happen. There’s no way either of them will really risk the reputational fallout of releasing those pictures to the public, even if it’ll mostly destroy me. They’ll look bad too.
I need to call their bluff.
But first, I need Stefano’s help.
I slip down the back hall, retracing a familiar path. This is the way I ran when that crazy dickhead was chasing me. A little fearpulses into my chest and I wonder if he’s still around. Probably not though. Albert would’ve taken care of him by now.
The locker room door is unlocked. I push it open, hesitating. Since there’s nobody actively trying to kill me, I feel a little weird barging inside.
“Hello?” I clear my throat, listening for an answer. “Stefano? Are you in there?”
I hear a locker clang shut then someone’s shuffling toward me. He comes around the edge of the entrance and frowns, head tilted to the side. Blood’s rolling slowly from his nose, and, God, suddenly my breath sucks out from my chest.
He’s so attractive. Beautiful even. That ruined skin crisscrossed by a dozen puckered marks and scars only makes him that much more incredible. Fear lances into my stomach and I’m thinking this was a bad idea now that I’m close to him again. I can’t help but remember what he looked like down on his knees. His mouth between my legs.
I lick my lips, breath coming quick.
“Thought I’d see you here,” he says, turning away. “Come on, nobody else is around.”
