Chapter 13
Get It In Writing
CORMAC
Energy pulses through me in time to the pounding music.
Brigit didn't agree to come tonight, but I can feel it in the air that she's going to.
She bought a new dress and paid extra for expedited shipping. While I know that could just be a coincidence, as she's one to order a new dress almost every week, something about a mini dress she had to have by today is too suspicious to be anything but a clue.
Maybe I shouldn't be monitoring her purchases and just leave it up to chance, but I can't make myself stop.
Everything she does is like a fucking drug to me.
Even the meticulous way she makes herself a latte in the morning.
Steamed milk first, then exactly three and a half pumps of brown sugar syrup—homemade, of course— followed by espresso poured on top, sprinkled with fresh cinnamon.
Her rituals, her constance, everything about her feels like the calm in a world that only creates chaos.
She's so perfect all the time, I find myself wondering what it would take to shatter her immaculate persona.
Even when she finds a stranger in her home, she's put together and pristine first, afraid second.
Her sweet, decadent sounds as I possessed her mouth with mine were just a glimpse into who she could be if she allowed herself to be wholly unleashed. Just a few minutes of her lips pressed against me, opening for me, welcoming me inside, made me feral.
I cannot believe that the night we met for the first time wasn't the same, but if, as she said, she was in a relationship at that point, she wouldn't have been open to the connection between us.
I can only hope I didn't kill the man she was with.
That definitely seems like something I might have done. Even now, the temptation to do so crawls under my skin, itching to escape.
Every moment since the kiss, I've been fighting against the instinct to discover who it was. But I don't trust myself not to remove him from this plane of existence if he's still on it.
So I've ignored the incessant buzzing for violence that exists inside me now, clinging to Brigit's steadiness to keep me afloat instead.
Because I'm so attuned to her, likely due to the years spent watching her, I know exactly what she's doing tonight. She's going to be here.
I can't even bring myself to be disappointed that I won't have an excuse to let myself into her home again.
Of the two options presented, this one at least gives her a semblance of control and safety. She's coming to me, yes, but in a public place, likely thinking that will keep her from succumbing to her darkest desires that rear their heads in my presence.
I roll up the dark gray sleeves of my shirt, the fiddling calming my racing heart.
There's electricity in the air tonight. Skyler's fighting again; he disappeared into his office to get ready ten minutes ago, and I've been frozen here, up above the fray of people bustling in, purveying this strange kingdom we've built.
From this vantage point, I can see not only the entire ring and every exit, but I have the perfect view of Brigit's usual seat.
When she shows up tonight, as I know she will, I'll have the best seat in the house to watch the excitement in her eyes as she soaks in the violence, the heady, deep depravity she only allows herself to indulge in here.
As announcements of tonight's fighters bounce off the walls around me, my only focus is on that empty seat. Lights flash and buzzers squeal, half-naked women hold up signs and rally their captive audience, and yet all my attention is stuck on a black cushion and the person who should be in it.
Halfway through the second fight, as if I'd manifested her from my dreams, she appears.
Nervously toying with the hem of her dress and holding a small manila folder in her other hand, she parades through the crowd of our screaming sycophants of savagery.
Her gaze darts around, searching, almost frantic in her desire to find me. The truth of that makes my heart pound. She's desperate to be near me again. She can tell herself all she wants that it's just to end this; to give me what I asked for and leave.
But deep down, we both know the truth. She could have dropped it off this morning or this afternoon during the off-hours. She could have brought friends with her to keep up the facade and stay upstairs.
She didn't.
She walked into this place knowing exactly what she would find and what awaited her.
Sinking into the plush seat, her legs disappear from my view, hidden by the table. A drink, her usual, appears on the table, the server disappearing as quickly as they arrived.
Brigit's immaculate nails tap on the folder as it rests on the table, her eyes still bouncing around, scouring this giant room to find me.
I can't help but wonder how many nights we spent just like this.
With me silently purveying her from above, Brigit never the wiser to where I am. She's been here enough times that she has a standing reservation, though that might be more my doing. Keeping my life open to her without ever approaching and letting her into it.
Whatever I was doing before, I was just wasting my time. Watching her from afar isn't enough.
Blending into the crowd, I wind through, stalking towards my destiny and the truth she holds about our past.
I slide onto the couch beside her and watch as every decadent muscle in her body goes rigid.
The only movement is the muscles in her neck as she swallows down the fear.
"You brought it," I comment, ignoring the file altogether. I can go over it later. What I find far more compelling is the woman sitting beside me, refusing to even look at me.
A quiet sigh slips through her lips, "You didn't leave me much choice."
I chuckle, reveling in her rigid posture and the craving I feel to destroy it.
If she needs to believe she doesn't want to be here, I'll let her.
I don't need her to accept that she wants this.
Not yet. The struggle of her desire and her morals is so fucking delicious, I'll savor every moment until she breaks.
Clearing her throat, she moves to stand, "Alright. Well, I've done what you told me, so I should be—"
"Sit down, Brigit."
Her eyes lock onto mine, both of us surprised by the cold command.
But she listens, settling back against the seat, staring at me like a frightened little rabbit trapped by a wolf.
"If you go now, you'll miss the main event," I taunt as I lean closer, my arm landing on the backrest behind her. "Just pretend I'm not here."
An incredulous laugh fills the space between us, "Not possible."
"I'm sure you're more than capable," I assure her, closing the small space between us until my thigh rests against her bare leg, the warmth of that touch sending sparks of heat into my cock.
Her throat works down another heavy swallow, and I track as every muscle moves in sync.
"What's the matter, Little Bunny? You seem nervous," I ask.
"Of course I'm nervous," she fiddles with the edge of a sheet of paper. "Every time I've seen you, you've been threatening me with a deadly weapon. That doesn't exactly breed trust."
"I don't know," I laugh. "I think it shows consistency."
Her eyes narrow, "I don't see a weapon on you now."
Without answering, I sink my fingers into my pocket, pulling out the same little switchblade I had in her kitchen last time.
"Do you want me to threaten you with it, Brigit?
Believe me, I'd be more than happy to. I could hold it against your throat, right here," I drag my thumb across her thrumming pulse. "And make you behave.”
Her pupils dilate as she stares at the blade in my hand, biting her pouty lower lip. If I didn't know any better, I'd think she does want me to make her obey with the lingering threat of consequences if she doesn't.
Someone over the loudspeakers announces Skyler, and cheers surround us, drawing me out of the fantasies of her fear and pleasure entwining into one.
But even as the sound around us grows and the fight begins, I can't bring myself to do anything but stare at Brigit, to drown in the lights that flicker across her cheeks, a kaleidoscope of color on her beautiful features as she fights her hardest not to react to the warring terror and desire.
Even without watching the fight, I can tell the moment the first punch lands.
Brigit's jaw drops, and despite herself, she leans forward in her seat, caught up in the violence she swore she wasn't here to see.
I glance at the ring, watching another hard hit land on Skyler's chest.
Brigit's gasp of surprise and fingers gripping the edge of the table are the least obvious signs she's enjoying this more than she lets on.
Through the thin, brilliant blue fabric draped deviously low on her chest, her hard nipples scream for attention.
As much as she doesn't want to, she responds so beautifully to the brutality. My sweet little lawyer has a sadist streak, one she may not even be fully aware of.
Pressing my luck, I lean in, whispering in her ear and letting my warm breath brush against her jawbone, "You love this, don't you?"
A subtle shake of her head is all she can offer, realizing there's no point in denying it, but trying her best anyway.
"You're lying to me again, Brigit," I trail my nose down her jaw, and her whole body shivers.
My hand still wrapped around my blade on the table itches to touch her, to feel the warmth of her thigh pressed against my fingers.
As I drag it across the table, her eyes flick down for a moment before being drawn back to the barbaric show.
The second it dances across her leg, teasing her thigh, she sucks in a sharp inhale, the air whistling through her teeth from the force of her breath.
My free hand dangles around her shoulder, trapping her completely against me with nowhere to escape.
She stutters out my name, all breathy and shaky, the needy, nervous sound alone making my eyes roll back in my head.
"Shh," I soothe into her neck, "Keep watching."