Page 27 of Ruthless Lord
He limps back inside. I glance over my shoulder before following him.
The locker room is relatively spare. Everything’s neat and clean, but worn down. Stefano’s sitting on a wooden bench, hunched over a bag, rooting around for something. He comes up with a roll of medical wrap and begins to wind it around his left fist.
“Are you okay?” I ask, keeping distance between us. Right now, he looks like he couldn’t beat a baby in a boxing match, but I get the sense that’d change really fast if he wanted to get violent.
“Broke a knuckle.” He grimaces and touches his side. “Maybe a rib too. And my nose.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“Not the first time.”
I roll my eyes and walk over to his bag. He looks on curiously as I dig around until I find some gauze. I use that to wipe his face off, roll it into a tight pill, and shove it lightly up his nose.
He lets me do it without comment.
“Are you always like this? Acting like nothing fazes you?”
“Probably.”
I shake my head. “You know how much shit we’re in?”
“A little of it.”
“I’m drowning in shit, thanks to you.”
He touches my wrist as I pull away. “Pretty sure you made your own choices.”
I glare at him. “Let me go.”
He releases and I step back, wiping my hands on my jeans. I don’t know what it is about this guy, but he knocks me off balance. I feel dizzy and unsure of myself. Nobody else in the world makes me feel so small and insecure.
It pisses me off.
“I’m guessing you spoke with your grandfather,” he says, continuing to wrap his knuckles.
“We’re not doing it.” I cross my arms over my chest and take a defiant stance, legs slightly spread. “Just a matter of discussing how we get out of it.”
“That’s all?”
“There’s no way we’re getting married. I know we had a night together and you saved my life, but that’s crazy. You’re a literal stranger.” I warm up to my little speech. “We have no clue if we’re compatible. If our families want to come to some sort of arrangement, they can find other people to get hitched. I’m not going to be blackmailed into it.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“Good, so you don’t want to do this either.” Relief hits me. I’m surprised by how worried I was.
He raises his eyebrows at me and shakes his head. “I didn’t say I don’t want to.”
And there it is. That was short-lived. My stomach lurches like a stone got dropped down my throat. My mouth opens and I stare at him before getting myself together. “They have something against you too.”
“Not exactly.” He finishes wrapping his hand and flexes it slightly, grimacing in pain.
“Then why in the world would you want to get married to me? We’re total opposites. You’re everything I don’t want.”
“That so?”
“Yes, that’s so. You’re a pit fighter and a criminal. Sure, we had good sex?—”
“Great sex.”
