Page 23 of Billionaire's Promise
"Just work, been busy you know?"
"Anything to do with Baron?"
"Baron?" I frown. "Why do you ask?"
"Only because he showed up here, and now, he and Sinclair are locked in some kind of argument."
Here?"Argument?"
I hear the sound of something crashing in the background."
"Strike that." Isla’s voice rises in excitement. "Sinclair just socked Baron in the jaw."
"What?" I tighten my grasp on the phone. "What do you mean, he hit Baron? Where are you?"
"At Summer and Sinclair’s townhouse." More noises, the sound of something hitting the ground, something big and heavy and— "Shit, are they fighting?" I scowl.
"More like walloping each other," she mutters. "Whoa, this is something. Nothing like two alpha males going at each other to get the blood flowing."
More sounds of yelling reach me over the phone. My heart begins to race and my blood thuds at my temples. "What the hell is happening there?"
"Ooh." I hear Isla pulling in air between her teeth. "That was a bad hit. Baron’s down."
"Wait, what?" I stiffen. "I’m coming over."
7
Baron
"Fuck you, asshole!" Sterling glowers down at me.
Bitch had gotten in a good hit; he’d managed to get through my defenses…because I’d let him. Don’t tell him that. I’d been parked outside Ava’s studio, waiting for her to finish, and following up on my various business interests via phone and email when Weston had called. Of the remaining Seven, he’s the only one who’s reached out since the last fight. He’d said he couldn’t break rank with the rest, that they were all livid with me for what they’d seen as my desertion, but that if I wanted a chance to talk to them, now was my chance. The five of them and their wives had gathered at Sinclair’s home, and if I wanted an opportunity to plead my case with them, I’d best get my arse over there. I had hesitated, hadn’t wanted to drive off and leave her unescorted, especially not now that night had fallen. But I couldn’t miss this opportunity. I had to get back into the circle of trust… This is the only family I know… Also, I need them on board for what’s next.
So, I had reached out to someone I know I can trust. I'd asked Archer—my friend and business partner with whom I had started the security business after leaving the army—to step in for me. Archer had served with me in the army. Hell, it was because of him that I had joined the army in the first place. I trust him to watch over Ava.
As soon as he had arrived, I’d taken off to Sinclair’s town house.
Weston had been on hand to let me in. He’d led me into the living room where the rest of the four, including Arpad, who had returned from his honeymoon, had been gathered around the bar.
Sinclair had taken one look at me, and after scowling at Weston, he’d asked me to step out.
We’d each taken off our jackets and shirts, then circled each other, as the rest had come out to watch.
Each of us had waited for the other to make a move. I’d waited, waited…until he’d launched himself at me. Then we had gone a few rounds. I’d given as good as I’d gotten, then realized this was one fight I had to lose…for the greater win. If this is the only way to get Sterling to speak to me, so be it. So, I had allowed him to get the punch in.
Now I glower up at him, not needing to fake the pain that slices through my head. Bastard had managed to bury his fist in my forehead. Good thing I have a hard head. Still, the cut across my eyebrow is bleeding down my face. I use my arm to wipe away the blood, then hold out my hand to him.
He hesitates, reaches for me, then seems to change his mind at the last minute. He straightens, turns and walks off toward the house.
I stare after him. Anger pulses through me. "Don’t turn your back on me, you motherfucker."
He pauses, turns to glare at me over his shoulder. "You may have fucked yours, but I never did."
Rage fills my head. My vision tunnels. I stagger to my feet, then rush him.
He turns back, lowers his head and charges. We meet in the middle. Or rather, his head connects with my middle. The breath rushes out of me. Pain coils out from where he head-butted me. I stagger back as he punches me in the side, and the other, follows with an upper cut. He raises his fist again and I catch the hit on my arm. Throw up my other arm to deflect the next, then rear back and manage to land one in his solar plexus.
I am going to lose; doesn’t mean I have to roll over and play dead. If I did that, asshole would suspect me anyway. No, I am going to push back now. I swing again, plant one on his shoulder, then his side, then the other. He punches up, catches me under the chin. I stumble back, and he raises his fist. This time, there is no pretending. I know he’s going to knock me down and I am ready. I glare at him, head on, wait for his fist to land, then he straightens.
