10. Jax
Jax
When I get back to my desk, it’s almost time for me to leave. My workday has consisted of storming into a conference room, setting up my computer, and dealing with my contract. I’ve barely done anything that could be considered actual work.
At least the boss got off. That has to mean he’s at least a little satisfied.
But as I grab my bag and walk out, I still feel uneasy. Something about the encounter with Jones has left me on edge. Not the act itself, I’ve had my fair share of boyfriends, and I know how to give a guy head, but Gray Jones isn’t really like any of the guys I’ve dated.
A small smile flirts at the corner of my mouth as I think about Parker, my last boyfriend. We met at Jensons, where he had shown up every night for three weeks trying to seduce me.
He was tall, quiet, and obsessed with me—just the way I like them. At first, I hadn’t been interested. I’d just gotten out of a messy breakup with one of Flynn’s friends, and I wanted space to get over him. But eventually, Parker convinced me.
He was the opposite of Jones. Timid, sweet, and worshipped the ground I walked on. It was amazing for my confidence, making me feel like a queen whenever I was around him. Parker looked at me as if he couldn’t believe that I would really date him.
Jones looks at me like he couldn’t care less what I do as long as I obey him.
And why the fuck do I find that so hot?
I’ve never felt submissive around any guy before, and it’s not a natural part of my personality.
I wouldn’t be a very good club manager if I let people walk all over me.
Half the security guards at Jensons are twice my size, and every one of them knew not to mess with me within thirty minutes of working there.
Mr. Jones, on the other hand, makes me nervous. There’s something so cold and calculating about him. I’m not used to it.
Most men would show some emotion if a stranger strutted into their conference room and demanded to speak to them with no warning.
But he just stared at me like he was trying to figure me out, as if he could see right through to my thundering heartbeat.
And when we were in his office, it was just the same. He looked at me as if I owed him his subservience. It should have pissed me off, but it didn’t. I wanted to please him.
I stop in the middle of the office, halfway between my desk and the elevators, staring ahead of me in shock.
That’s not me. I don’t owe a man anything.
Glancing around, as if everyone can read my mind, I notice some people have stopped what they were doing to stare at me. I narrow my eyes in response, and they return to their screens.
Hiking my purse up my shoulder, I head toward the elevators, giving Vince a warm smile as I pass him. He’s eating a cookie and grins at me, crumbs tumbling from his mouth.
As the elevator opens onto the ground floor, I walk out of the building into the fading light of a January evening. I really need a thicker coat, because my leather jacket is incredibly thin, and I shiver as I cross the road toward the subway.
As I reach the opposite side of the street, I turn back, looking up at the building. I can just see the windows in Gray’s office above me, and I wonder whether he might be standing there, looking down at me.
I lick my lips, enjoying the lingering taste of him in my mouth. I probably should have insisted he wear a condom, but the speech Pippa gave me about how careful they are with client health, as well as the health of their women, reassures me.
How many women has he fucked like that, so controlling, just ramming into my mouth like he had every right to?
Another shiver hits me, and this time it has nothing to do with the cold. I go down the steps and into the subway, wrapping the thin leather around my body and blending in with the crowd.
When I get home, Seb and Ben are out, and Scott has texted me to say he’s headed to the club early.
I check the time and sigh. Having an office job in the day and then managing the club at night is going to be brutal, but with the amount of money we have to raise, I don’t have a choice.
As I head upstairs, my phone chimes, and it’s a text from Pippa. She tells me that Jones has extended my time with the company until the end of the week.
Thank fuck for that.
Pushing open the door of my room, I fire back a quick ‘ok’, and she just replies with ‘don’t screw this up’.
I smirk. I didn’t like her at all when we first met. I thought she was a snooty, stuck-up bitch, but now she’s starting to remind me of myself. She doesn’t take shit from anyone, and I can imagine she’s a loyal guardian to the women who work for her agency.
I strip out of my clothes, kicking off my heels, and drag my gym bag from under my bed. If I get a move on, I’ll have time for some sparring before I report to the club.
As I change, I calculate how many hours I’ll need to work at both jobs to stay on top of things.
Jones expects me to report between 8 and 9 a.m., and I finish at the club between midnight and 3, depending on the day of the week.
I suppose I can get away early most nights if I get Scott to cover the final hour.
Accounting for travel, that should give me four hours of sleep a night.
That’s plenty. I’ve always been a night owl, and since my mom died and dad went to prison, my sleep patterns are shot to shit anyway.
Pulling on a hoodie that I grab from Scott’s room, I pack my work uniform into my bag so I can go straight to the club after, and head out.
The name of the underground boxing gym I’m a member of is Marlo’s. It’s my favorite place on earth, and I’ve been a member for the last four years.
I jog most of the way, my bag bouncing against my back as I go, but it’s quicker than waiting in traffic on the bus.
Rory at the front desk waves cheerfully as I come through the door.
“Hey Jax! Hopkins was asking about you today.”
“Probably wants a rematch, they got any bets going?” I ask as I search for my pass in the bottom of my bag.
“Of course. There’s not a lot of money going on you against McGregor next week, though. You sure you want to take on The Tank?”
“How else is he gonna learn?” I say with a grin as Rory chuckles and swipes me in.
The gym looks incongruous from the street outside; in fact, when I first saw it, I thought it might be a brothel. The dark overhang makes it look shady as hell, and as you enter, flickering neon lights down the black staircase cast shadows across the walls.
The smell of sweat and something I can’t quite place invades my nostrils as soon as I walk through.
Everything is catered to men here. The floor, ceiling, and equipment are all black steel, with punching bags evenly spaced around the edges.
There are two boxing rings in the center, with a massive locker room for the guys at the back.
The ladies’ room is the size of two toilet cubicles and not an inch more.
The guys who frequent the club are huge, and I know my limits in terms of how hard I can punch, but my technique and speed match almost all of them. I’ve won as many fights as I’ve lost.
I wave to McGregor, a.k.a The Tank. He’s a hulk of a guy, cornrows knotted tightly to his scalp, and so many tattoos he seems to have a new one every week. We’ve sparred before, but I’ve never won against him. He’s become my nemesis, and a lot of the members are taking sides in our rivalry.
“Jax, you want in?” I look up on my way to the locker room. One of the trainers is about to start a class, and that’s perfect for me right now. I have thirty minutes, tops, before I need to be showered and heading across town to Jensons.
“Give me two minutes!”
“We’ll wait for you, get your ass in gear.”
I chuckle as I slam into the women’s locker rooms, shove my bag onto the shelf, and shuck off my hoodie.
Two minutes later, I’m slamming my wrapped fists into a punching bag along with six other guys who grunt and swear as they go, getting all their tension out.
I love boxing and channeling my aggression into something other than my brothers. I adore them, but man, I’m getting sick of solving all their problems for them.
My thoughts nervously flit to Scott as I pray that Nick Monroe follows through on his timeline. I have six more days to get as much money together as I can. I hope a down payment will be enough to stall him for at least a little while.
I beat the shit out of the punching bag, getting some looks from the guys around me, but I don’t care.
As my fists batter the white gym logo on the bag, I can’t help thinking back to those piercing blue eyes watching me as Gray Jones slammed his cock down my throat like a piston.
Why was it so good? And why the hell am I still thinking about it?