Page 38 of Billionaire's Promise
I could have seriously hurt her… Fuck… See? That’s the reason I’ve imposed this restraint on myself. No, I am doing the right thing keeping away from her. So, why am I still standing here watching the window of her studio like a schmuck? She’ll be safe there for a few more hours. I can use that time to pound the frustration out of my system.
I turn back to the SUV, climb inside and ease onto the road. In half an hour, I’ve reached my destination.
Grabbing my gym bag from the back of the car, I head inside the building. Situated right next to the Dorchester Hotel, in the center of the city, it’s prime real estate. If it were converted to flats, it likely would fetch an annual income equivalent to the GDP of a small third-world country. But Jace, the owner and a friend of the Seven, prefers to keep the gym inside intact.
When he’d learned that I’m back in town, he’d reached out to me and offered me the use of the gym, which I had gladly accepted.
I walk up the steps and into the large room with the boxing ring in the center. Walking into the dressing room, I emerge a few minutes later clad in shorts and a T-shirt. Binding my hands, I pull on my boxing gloves and head for the punching bag. I swing at the bag, punch it again and again. Ten minutes in, I am panting. Sweat beads my upper body, my forehead, and my T-shirt sticks to my skin. I take a break, wipe the sweat from my face. Raise my fists again, when footsteps sound.
"Want to go a round?"
I stiffen, turn around to find Sinner standing behind me.
"With you?" I scoff.
"Scared I’ll whip your arse?" he taunts.
I shake my head. "You arrogant twat." I nod toward his office wear. "You going to change out of your pretty boy clothes?"
"No need." He walks to where a chair is positioned next to the ring. Shrugging off his jacket, he hangs it across the back of the chair, then unbuttons his cuffs and pulls off his shirt. I walk over to the ring and climb in, wait for Sinclair to join me.
The squeak of shoes on the flooring warns me about the arrival of the others.
Weston ambles in, followed by Damian, Arpad, and a guy I don’t recognize.
Sinclair binds his hands, then steps into the ring as he pulls on his gloves. He rolls his shoulders, bounces around on the balls of his feet as he takes position.
"Who’s the new guy?" I ask.
He glances over his shoulder, then turns back to me. "Liam Kincaid."
"Any relation to Weston?"
"His brother. He's also the second richest man in the UK," he mutters.
"Who’s the first?"
He scowls back at me and I raise my hands. "That would be you, I take it?"
He smirks. "So, what are you wagering?"
"Wasn’t aware this was that type of a fight."
"I only fight for high stakes, and you know that."
"Hmm." I smack my gloved hands together. "If I win, you let go of whatever grudge it is you hold against me."
"And if you lose?"
"I won’t try to get back in with the Seven again."
He tilts his head, then nods. "Deal."
I take my stance, when he straightens again. "Hang on, we need a referee." He turns and calls out, "Liam, care to referee our fight here?"
Liam prowls forward. "You’re aware I won’t do you any favors?"
"Wouldn’t expect anything less." Sinclair bares his teeth. Liam nods. He struts over, springs onto the platform in a lithe move that belies his size, then ducks inside the ring.
