Chapter 14 Willow
WILLOW
A couple of nights after the dress fitting disaster, I’m in the car with Olivia, being driven somewhere. She didn’t see fit to answer me when I asked where we were going, so I just sit on my side of the large back seat, waiting for us to get there.
Honestly, I was almost glad when I got the call from her earlier today. She had Jerome bring me over to her house first, which gave me another chance to poke around a little.
Not that I found much at all. But I’m still trying.
I managed to peek around a few other parts of the house while Olivia was getting ready for whatever this is, and it made me more convinced than ever that the stuff I need is in her office somewhere.
The rest of the house is largely decorative, ostentatious and meant to intimidate outsiders and show off Olivia’s wealth. She’s not leaving anything incriminating lying around in the areas she wants people to see.
The office is the one room that seems private and utilitarian. It’s where she manages her estate, so if I’m going to find anything, it has to be in there.
“Troy and I are nearing the end of our negotiations,” Olivia says suddenly, startling me out of my thoughts. I blink over at her, disgust rolling in my gut.
“I guess you’re happy about that,” I mutter, not even bothering to pretend it brings me anything other than irritation to hear it.
“He’s been very… difficult.” Her lip curls a bit as she speaks, her pleasant facade cracking a little. “He believes that since you are ‘damaged goods,’ he should get better terms in all of this.”
I narrow my eyes, glaring out the window. “I thought he was into that.”
Just saying it makes me feel sick.
She clicks her tongue softly against her teeth.
“Personally, perhaps. But socially, being married to someone everyone knows was raised by trash will affect his standing.” She grimaces.
“And then there’s the fact that my own estate is currently not as strong as it could be.
He’s trying to push any advantage he can. ”
“Isn’t that what you people do?” I ask. “You try to fuck over other people to make yourselves look better or have more money or whatever.”
“Do not ‘or whatever’ me,” Olivia says, her voice cold. “I’m willing to concede a little where these negotiations are concerned, because they’ll get me what I want in the long run, but I won’t let our family get the short end of the metaphorical stick.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her that she’s not any family of mine and I wish I’d never met her. Knowing what I know now, I would’ve preferred to spend my entire life having no idea where I came from.
Luckily, Olivia is still rattling on about Troy, so she doesn’t notice the mutinous look on my face as I bite back the comment.
“Tonight will settle things between us once and for all, and it will be the last part of the negotiations,” she tells me.
It all sounds very final, and I frown, not really understanding what she means. I don’t know what this will entail, and when the car finally pulls to a stop at our destination, I’m even more confused.
From the outside, it looks like nothing. Like some kind of warehouse or factory that’s been abandoned from its original purpose and turned into something else.
Olivia puts on sunglasses and adjusts the head wrap she has on, and I narrow my eyes. It’s almost like… she wants to hide herself as much as possible. To keep her identity hidden.
Where the hell are we?
“Come along,” she says sharply to me, getting out of the car and waiting impatiently for me to follow.
I do so, and she leads me around the building to a back entrance.
I blink as we step inside, caught off guard by the florescent lighting and the loud noise. It’s unmistakably the sound of a crowd, laughing and jeering, and the scent of sweat and blood hangs in the air.
Before I can ask anything, Olivia is striding away, her shoes tapping on the pitted concrete floor as she walks, and I have to hurry to follow after her.
We go up some stairs and then step through a doorway into a small room, and I realize it’s like a private box at an arena or something. We have a view of the space below, and I can see loads of people packed around what looks like a fighting ring.
I blink as it all starts to make sense.
Well, at least some of it. I understand what this place is now, but I still have no idea what we’re doing here.
Olivia relaxes once she takes a seat, removing her sunglasses and taking off her headscarf. The glass that separates us from the rest of the onlookers must be one way, so she’s clearly not worried about being spotted anymore.
“There you are.”
The deep voice behind me makes me jump, and I turn around to see Troy walking in with all his usual lecherous swagger.
He nods respectfully to Olivia and then smirks at me, looking me up and down.
“Ah, my future bride,” he drawls. “You couldn’t have put on something a little sexy for me?”
I glare at him, my cheeks heating with fury. Before I can snap at him that I’d rather die than cater to any of his gross little kinks, Olivia speaks up, addressing me.
“Troy loves these fights,” she says. “He comes here and bets on them the way others might do with horses.”
“What does that have to do with your negotiations?” I ask, the word tasting bad in my mouth.
“This is the last of them, as I said. A wager on the fight. Although I’d hoped for something a bit more…” She glances around the sparse space with distaste. “Suitable.”
Troy shrugs. “The nice one that Julian Maduro owned burned down. So this is the best we’ve got right now. It’s a shame, but it’s been busier than ever, which is good.” He shifts his attention to me, his grin a little unhinged. “Have you ever seen something like this before?”
I shake my head warily, not answering with words.
“Ah. Guess you still have some cherries to pop after all.” He winks and licks his lips.
“But you’ve probably seen stuff like this in whatever slum you grew up in.
Bare knuckle fights, no weapons, no backup.
Just two people beating the shit out of each other to see who can last the longest. It’s intense and raw, and if we’re lucky, someone might have to be wheeled out of here before the end of the night.
If they don’t die, they might end up eating through a tube for the rest of their life. ”
The way he talks about it is the same way other people talk about football or basketball, but he’s clearly into watching these fights for the blood and violence and the possibility of seeing someone die. It’s not surprising.
But it still doesn’t make sense for me to be here. If Olivia and Troy want to bet on a stupid fight, then they don’t need me around to do it. I haven’t been present for any of the other negotiations surrounding our marriage, so I don’t know why I’m suddenly being included now.
I’m about to give in and ask when a voice crackles over the shoddy PA system to announce the next fight.
I barely register most of it as the announcer gets the crowd hyped up for more bloodshed, but over the cheers of the audience, a name stands out, and it makes my blood run cold.
One of the fighters is Malice Voronin.
I’m going to have to watch Malice fight, and if it’s anything like what Troy’s been talking about, it’s not going to be pretty.
My stomach drops, and I whip my head around to stare at Olivia, horrified.
There’s a smirk on her face, and I grit my teeth, filled with more hatred than ever for this horrible old bitch. She doesn’t care about these fights, and she probably could’ve found another way to negotiate with Troy if she really wanted to.
This is just a power trip for her. Her way of showing me that she can make Malice do whatever she wants. And a way for her to hurt me on purpose, just because she can.
I turn away from her, not wanting to see that smug look on her face for another second.
I look out into the crowd, knowing that I can see them but they can’t see me.
At first, it’s just a teeming mass of people, barely distinguishable from each other, but I finally find the two faces I’ve been searching for.
Ransom and Victor are down there.
Both of them are staring at the ring, tense expressions on their faces. Ransom leans in and says something to Vic, and Vic just nods, looking grim.
This must be another job that X gave them.
Olivia either signed Malice up to fight, or she just told them that one of the three of them had to volunteer, and Malice stepped up.
Neither of those scenarios would surprise me, knowing how protective Malice is of the people he cares about.
And I’m glad his brothers are here, at least.
Even though I really, really hate all of this.
A few seconds later, the fighters walk into the center of the ring.
Malice looks stoic and determined, cracking his knuckles as he sizes up the other guy.
His opponent is smaller than him, but he looks wiry and fast, and there’s a sharp grin on the guy’s face as he stares right back at Malice, unafraid.
The announcer calls the beginning of the fight, and the guy lunges across the ring quick as a flash, trying to land a hit on Malice. The crowd screams as Malice twists out of the way, grabbing the guy’s arm and yanking it back hard.
Behind me, Olivia and Troy discuss terms.
“So if your man wins,” Troy is saying, “Then you get the stake you want in my family’s company. But if my pick wins, then I get more of your estate’s holdings.”
“I’m aware of the deal,” Olivia replies, her tone cool. “But I have picked my fighter carefully.”
My eyes are glued to the fight, even though I don’t want to see it. But it feels like if I look away, something terrible might happen.
It’s a brutal brawl. Malice’s opponent is quick on his feet, and he lands a few good hits on Malice just by out-speeding him. I wince at the sound of his fist connecting with Malice’s jaw, which is audible even from our box behind the glass, and Malice spits blood out onto the floor.
But it doesn’t stop him, and he attacks right back, using his size and strength to his advantage.
He punches the guy right in the face, and there’s a sickening crunch as his nose sprays blood.
He seems dazed, and Malice uses that to his advantage.
He keeps hitting him, landing blow after blow until the man’s face is a bloody, bruised mess.
Even with the hits he took, Malice seems to be in good form, and while I hate seeing this, I have to admit that he’s a good fighter.
I wonder if it’s something he picked up as a kid, defending his brothers the way their mom taught him to, or if prison brought it out in him, since he had to fight to defend himself so often.
The rule is that the bout doesn’t end until one of the men is incapacitated enough to stop fighting, and my nails dig little crescent shapes into my palms as it drags on.
But finally, Malice catches his opponent with a vicious right hook that sends his head snapping sideways.
The man crumples to a bloody heap on the ground, and although I can see him moving a little, he doesn’t get up again.
Olivia smiles, turning to Troy with that look of smug superiority on her face. “I believe that’s my win,” she says. “I’ll have the contracts drawn up—”
“Wait. Let’s do double or nothing,” Troy cuts in, scowling. “If you win this time, you can have an even bigger stake in the Copeland Corporation. I’ll give you a seat on our board of directors.”
Olivia’s cold eyes glitter as she considers it. She’s already won, so she doesn’t have to accept his new offer, but I know before she even says anything that she will.
She’s too greedy to do anything else.
Still, when she inclines her head in agreement, my heart sinks.