Page 94 of Forbidden Romeo

The same hand I so coldly refused him not thirty seconds ago.

The contact seems to awaken something in him. His hazel eyes brighten a little, and he stands a little straighter.

“You better fucking win,” I mouth to him. The roar of the crowds is still too loud to say anything of substance.

Jack offers me a small squeeze of my hand before bringing it to his lips. Despite everything and how mad I am right now, the gesture is a sweet reminder of who we are behind closed doors. When we aren’t keeping things from each other to gain the upper hand, or dressing ourselves up to play a part we never meant to.

All of our games suddenly seem insignificant as Jack lets go and allows himself to be escorted down to the ring. With one last glance up at me, he disappears into what I assume must be the locker room.

It takes me a moment to register that people are still staring at me. Without Jack by my side, I’m suddenly very aware that theDead Eyegoons aren’t taking too kindly to my presence.

“Maguire bitch.”

I turn around in alarm, but none of the men behind me seem to want to engage in further conversation.

“Whore.” Someone else hisses at me too quickly for me to catch.

I sit back in my seat slowly, beginning to regret this outfit, the hair, and the stilettos that will make it ridiculously hard for me to run if things go south. I try my best to quell the fear brewing in my stomach. Padraic said I was an “asset”; surely he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me?

But then again, he did just send his only son to fight a death match.

The man in question has resumed conversation with the business-looking men around him, pointedly ignoring me. And it seems his goons are more than happy to take advantage of that.

While I stare at him desperately, hating the fact I’m now relying on the man I hate more than anyone else in the world, someone sits down next to me.

“I knew I should have got you a thigh holster,” Kate murmurs, and my shoulders sag in relief. “But they would have seen it in that dress.”

The blonde turns behind us and gives the men a stare full of daggers before throwing an arm around the back of my chair. I want to tell her that I’m fine and that I can fight my own battles, but I can’t deny that the gesture soothes my growing anxiety.

“What’s happening?” I whisper to her shakily.

Kate nods towards the center of the room. “Jack is going three rounds in the ring. Fight ends when either opponent knocks out the other or…”

“Or what?” I say sharply.

“If neither manages to KO, the fourth round lasts as long as it needs to before someone… concedes,” she trails off.

I’m already shaking my head. “That has to be illegal.”

“Yep,” she replies, popping her ‘p.’

“Please tell me no one else has died in the last five years?”

“I’d love to.”

When she doesn’t say anything more, I turn and look at her. Really look at her. In the short time I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her look so pale. Her jaw seems to be working overtime as she assesses the crowds and the ring itself below, where what appears to be a referee has begun making his preparations.

She’s worried. Really fucking worried.

I swallow hard and stare back out at the ring. “How good is he?”

“Good,” Kates says firmly, and I let out a sigh of relief. “He might even make it through the first match.”

“There’s more than one?”

“If he does well today, there’s another fight before the final.”

Fuck. “So we have to watch three of these?”

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