Page 94 of Filthy and the Beast

Sweat dripping down my back, I focus on the weight. Damian doesn’t want me to save him. Hell, I don’t want anyone to save me, either.

But this isn’t about saving him. It’s about being a provider. It’s about me being twenty years older, making promises to him I need to keep. He’s young and figuring his life out, and it’s my job to make everything easier, not to weigh him down with my problems, too.

At least I want that to be my job.

“I don’t know.” I toss the weight down to the mat. “All I know is that I’ve never felt this way before, and it’s making me lose my fucking mind.”

Nat smiles, eyes warm as she looks at me. Don’t know why.

“Talk to him,” my niece says. “That’s always the answer.”

“And practice what you want to say ahead of time,” Gwen advises. “It will cut down on the risk that you curse and grunt at him.”

I snort. “He likes it when I curse and grunt.”

Gwen laughs. “Maybe it really is a match made in heaven.”

We shoot the shit a while longer, which mainly consists of me bellyaching and those two cracking each other up. Nat and I run some drills and spend a couple hours in the ring. By late afternoon, I’m driving back home.

I cruise down the hilly roads into the city. Think about their advice, turn down the radio, and practice my speech.

“Damian, I think I’m in love…” I trail off, squeezing the steering wheel. “Damian. Love you. You, Damian. Damian, I need to fire you, but it’s just because I love you.”

I grunt. That’s not right.

“I’m yours, Damian. I’m going to keep paying you, but you have to live here for other reasons now. Because I’m feeling for you.”

Fuck. Even worse.

“Damian. Would you like to be my boyfriend? I would still pay you.Fuck!” I rub my hand over my face. “Love you, love you, love you,” I grumble. “Yours.”

I get back home, let the girls out. My thoughts spin, unorganized, and when I see the quotes from the contractors still waiting for my attention, my gut clenches.

He quit his job. I need to step up. Need to act like a grown man with responsibilities.

I sit down, fuming about it, racking my brain for options that aren’t there. When I hit the same brick wall for the millionth time, I yank out my phone and text Buck.

Up it to 1.5 mil guarantee. And we’re boxing. Don’t care if we’re in a cage. Don’t care if it’s bare knuckles and he breaks every rule. But I’m only in if we box.

The second I hit send, I feel sick.

Fuck. Am I really agreeing? What will Damian even say when I tell him?

Won’t be able to keep this match a secret even if I wanted to. But maybe it’s for the best. If he's going to accept my offer and stay with me, he needs to see how ugly my life really is. I’ll tear the mask off, bare my soul to him because it’s the only way I see out.

I’m nauseous thinking about it.

A moment later, my phone rings with Damian’s name. We never talk on the phone, and my heart jumps in my throat as I quickly answer.

“You okay?”

“Oh, you actually answered,” he says, surprised.

“Yeah. Was looking at my phone.”

“I was going to leave a message, but I wondered if it would be okay for me to take off for a few days? Nico and Shadow are playing a show in Seoul, and they invited me to fly to South Korea with them for a spontaneous getaway.” When I don’t answer right away, he quickly adds, “If there’s anything urgent you need done at the house, I can come back and take care of it first.”

My heart sinks. Want him in my bed again tonight.

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