Page 40 of Filthy and the Beast

I take another gulp of tea. “Shit.”

Nico is usually right.

“You’re definitely not fooling yourself about school or your career,” he says. “You’re considering options, which is exactly what you should be doing now. It’s totally fine to not have it all figured out yet. Hell, a couple years ago, I had no clue I was going to become a rock star.”

“Maybe that’s how I’m fooling myself about Enzo. He’s got a gorgeous old house, these great dogs, apparently all the money he needs from his boxing career. Maybe my attraction to him has something to do with feeling so unstable right now.”

I consider it, but it doesn’t land right. The big goof definitely doesn’t have it all figured out.

Nico shrugs. “Maybe you just like him.”

“Yeah.” I smile, my belly tingling. “Maybe.”

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

ENZO

At first,I think I should call a doctor.

I don’t feel right. I’m achy or something; I don’t know. Dizzy sometimes. Can’t concentrate, and my circulation must be bad because my chest feels like my pecs fell asleep.

Got to talk to Damian tomorrow, and that’s freaking me out, too.

I don’t call my doctor, though. I consider Nat, but she’s got a big fight coming up, and I don’t want to worry her. Don’t even know what I would say if I did call.

Instead, I set up an appointment with someone who I know can help me out: my personal trainer.

The next morning, I meet Reggie at his gym. My first time there during the day. The place is busy, the smell of sweat thick in the air. A couple athletes avert their eyes, reminding me why I usually avoid the public.

The first few years after my career ended in Vegas, I couldn’t leave the house without getting recognized, confronted, mocked. Thank god only a fraction of the people recognize me now.

“Enzo! Check it out, man. Didn’t know you emerged during daylight hours.”

Reggie walks across the gym, head held high and voice booming. He chuckles warmly, and I try to force a smile, but everyone nearby stares at us. My expression instinctively twists into a defensive scowl.

“Good to see you,” I grumble, slapping Reggie on the shoulder.

“Moving without too much pain, I see. Hope you got a ride here. Remember, no driving at all until next week!”

I think about my truck waiting in the parking lot. “Got it,” I agree.

Reggie grins. He’s got a light beard and blond hair, and his t-shirt has a rainbow football printed on the front.

“What brings you in?” He walks me toward his office. “We aren’t supposed to meet up for another couple days.”

“Back’s fine.” We enter his office, where a big wooden desk sits across from some sports equipment, a doctor’s chair, and a wall covered with framed pictures of his husband on the tennis court. “Should be good as new in a few weeks.”

Reggie sits back on his desk. “That’s what I like to hear.”

I stroke my beard. “Thinking of training again. Not just running my routines with you, but getting my ass in fighting shape.”

“Oh?” Reggie stands back up. “You going back to the ring?” From the hesitancy in his voice, I know he’s thinking about all the reasons that’s impossible.

The humiliating offer to cage-fight flashes through my memory. I shake it away.

Don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I have to fight. Can’t waste away and run out of money while my mansion deteriorates around me. I need to prove I’ve still got it.

Nat doesn’t need me to leave her a fortune, but I can still do some good. Could take care of Damian. I'd like it if my money were going somewhere useful after I’m gone, and I wouldn’t mind knowing Damian has got a cushion. Never even have to have an awkward conversation with him about it. Can just write it in my will, and if something happens to me, it will be a surprise. At least someone in this fucked world will be left thinking nice thoughts about me.

---