Page 75 of My Grumpy Billionaire Protector

Neither of them wanted a glimpse into the person I’ve become.

And they definitely won’t allow me anywhere near their precious, untainted son.

You can keep them, bro. I never wanted the white-collar life anyway.

Being ripped away from the only life I’ve ever known has forced me to take a long hard look in the mirror, and although I don’t always like what I see, at least I’ve pulled myself out of the darkness. With a lot of help from Cory, I’ve managed to forge a new life for myself, one I’ve worked hard to achieve, and no one could take that away from me.

Not even Isaiah.

“How about we go down to the gym while we still can? You owe me a match.”

I know Isaiah is giving me a lot of leeway in the hopes of placating me.

Of winning me over.

It’s his version of an apology for letting me get ensnared in all of this.

Even after punching him, he still hasn’t limited my movement.

But I don’t want to think about it or how far I’ve allowed him to drag me into his mess.

I blink and return to the present with a jolt. “Still want to get your ass kicked?”

Cory scoffs. “Ha! I only let you win because I felt sorry for you.”

I roll my eyes. “Sounds like a sore loser to me.”

As I brush past him, Cory reaches out and shoves me. I grin and shove him back hard enough to send him reeling back. The two of us laugh as we race down the stairs and into the gym, passing by Evie. My stomach gives an odd little lurch when I see her, but when some of the light in her eyes dim, I force myself to keep moving.

You’re damaged goods, Shane. Don’t drag her down with you.

Once we reach the bottom floor, Cory steers me in the direction of the gym and slams the door shut behind me. “You ready to have your ass handed to you?”

I begin to roll up the sleeves of my sweater. “That’s exactly what you told me last time, right before I knocked you out.”

“You didn’t knock me out,” Cory maintains. “I slipped and fell.”

“Sure, if that’s the narrative you want to tell yourself.”

“Fuck you.”

Slowly, the two of us step onto the mat and start to circle each other. Cory lifts his sweater up over his head and tosses it onto the floor. I give him an incredulous look and a slight shake of my head. Then he is lunging at me, fists already in the air. At the last second, I step to the right and land a punch to his ribs. He lets out a low wheeze and rounds on me, managing to clip my jaw.

Pain blossoms behind my eyelids, but I pay it no attention.

I jump back, lift my hands up on either side of me, and take several deep breaths. This time, I launch myself at Cory, who stands with his legs spread out and a determined expression on his face. When I can’t knock him flat on his back, he manages to place both arms around my shoulders and squeezes. I yelp and throw one punch after the next, all of them missing him by an inch. Suddenly, Cory shifts and forces me into a headlock and all of the blood rushes to my head at once. I kick and squirm, my heart hammering against my chest.

“Don’t let her get inside your head,” Cory advises, in a tight voice. “I know you like her, and maybe she even likes you too, but it doesn’t mean you have any kind of future.”

I growl and kick my leg out, catching Cory by surprise. His grip loosens, and it is all I need to pull away and wheel on him. He barely has time to throw his hands up in front of his face before I punch him in the stomach. Then I draw back and use my legs to kick him back, throwing him off balance.

“I see you’ve been practicing.” Cory lowers his hands and gives me a smile. “It’s too bad you’re not fast enough.”

With another low growl, I attack Cory and send us both sprawling onto the floor. For a few moments, we roll around, each of us trying to get the upper hand. By the time Cory climbs on top of me and immobilizes my hands, my legs are pinned firmly beneath me, and I have nowhere to go.

“I know you’re trying to change the topic.” Cory breaths as a thin sheen of perspiration glistens on top of his brows. “And I know why you’re doing it, but sooner or later, you’re going to have to face the facts.”

I grunt and buck. “Which is what?”

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