29. Ariyan
ARIYAN
I loathed sex.
It was filthy, the very thing that drove this world to madness, and yet, it was the easiest way to control this beast of a man, who was currently tying his bicycle to a lamppost. Truth be told, if it weren’t for him being so keen on having his dick inside me, I doubted he’d be back so soon.
But thankfully, having the mind of a goon, there he was, exactly where I wanted him to be.
I might have had to go as low as paying him a visit and jerking him off on the floor of a dirty convenience store, but it was a small sacrifice to make in pursuit of my plan.
“I could have given you a ride,” I said after he was done securing his bicycle.
“Why? You’re the one who gave me this to begin with.”
I glanced at the piece of junk I’d gotten him out of spite a while back. Honestly, I thought he’d have long since thrown it away, if not for it being useless, then for the humiliation of getting such a gift.
“Why do you still have it?”
Running his fingers through his hair, he shrugged. “Changed the chains, so now they’re pretty decent.”
“It’s a piece of garbage.”
He side-eyed me, a teasing smirk on his full lips. “Might be, but it’s working just fine. Besides, cycling’s good cardio.”
What a moron.
“Fine, do as you please. Now, take this.” I handed him a paper bag.
He took it from me. “What’s in it?”
“Masks.”
“Why do I need one?” He frowned. “I thought you were taking me to see a fight tonight.”
“The owner of this establishment has a kink for masks,” I said, thinking of the Frenchman and his bizarre taste. “The fighters don’t wear them, only the guests. And since tonight we’re only there to watch, make sure to keep it on your face.”
“Gotcha.”
I rolled my eyes at him sounding this dumb before checking my watch.
“Let’s go. The fight will start soon.”
I turned around and began walking toward the club.
Unlike the hangar on the docks, these fights were exclusive to invitees only, making them rather intimate.
For that reason, they were held in an underground club in downtown Miami.
But make no mistake, those fights were anything but shady.
Luxury on top of luxuries, that was the Frenchman’s style, and you could always count on him to deliver an experience.
The asshole shouldn’t even be in Miami, considering the city was Eduardo’s territory, and yet, that crazy bastard kept challenging the status quo.
It seemed to me that LA had grown boring to the Frenchman, and he’d long since wished to expand his business to the East Coast. He was risking starting a gang war, and yet, he didn’t care.
In fact, I believed he was taking advantage of the boss’s desire to keep the peace; otherwise, a war would have been long overdue.
In any other situation, I’d be annoyed if someone was stealing our work, but in this case, I was one of the beneficiaries.
You see, there were very few ways to earn money fast and without awakening anyone’s suspicions, two factors that were critical in my case.
Betting on fights was one of those ways.
The fact that I was here at all was enough of a reason for Eduardo to slit my throat, but so far, he hadn’t found out.
Still, I knew it was only a matter of time until I ran out of luck; therefore, I had to make the most of it while I still could.
“Make sure to stick to me tonight, and more importantly, do not speak to anyone,” I said, not bothering to slow down as I spoke.
“Anything else I need not to do?”
My lips twisted as his voice alone was enough to irritate me.
“In fact, better keep that stupid mouth of yours shut altogether. Not like you have anything smart to say.”
He sighed. “You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you?”
“Didn’t we just agree you’d keep quiet?”
I kept on walking when he suddenly stopped. Taking a breath, I turned to glare at him.
“Have your legs stopped working?” I snarled, jaw tense with annoyance.
“If we’re going to be partners from now on, the least you could do is respect me.”
Partners?
This guy… he kept proving himself dumber by the second. Or maybe… maybe he was just utterly naive? Letting go of my brief rage, I stepped toward him and backed him against the wall of a building so the people walking down the street wouldn’t interrupt.
“You’re right, I was being unfair,” I said, voice soft, while maintaining eye contact. “I keep forgetting you’re no longer in debt to me… I’m sorry.”
His cheeks turned a bit redder, and he swallowed hard.
“I… I didn’t mean for you to apologize. I just want you to stop ordering me around all the time.”
My lips curled into a slight grin. “But I thought you liked it when I did.” Leaning closer, I traced the collar of his T-shirt with my finger. “At least it seemed like it the other night, when you came so hard—”
“H-hey,” he gasped, looking to his right and left. “Don’t bring that up here.”
“Why?”
Now, he was red down to his neck and ears. It was quite surprising how a big man like him reacted this easily to the slightest provocation, almost like a child with a crush.
Idiot.
“D-don’t we have a fight to get to?” he muttered, not meeting my stare.
“You’re right.” I stepped back, giving him space. “We’d better get going.”
The rest of the way to the club, he didn’t utter a word, meaning my little tease worked. Which was a good thing because whenever he opened his mouth to speak, I swear to God, I wanted to shoot him. Still, he was awfully quiet; therefore, curious, I glanced at him.
Walking beside me while staring ahead with a dumb expression, he looked extremely stupid.
To think this moron was such a good fighter was hard to believe, but then again, I doubted people would be able to guess my talents at first glance.
I tore my eyes away from him just as a group of girls passed us on the street, and to no surprise, they checked us out.
Checked him out, to be precise. Only the buffoon didn’t even seem to notice, as he continued walking without a care.
Men often went to war over women’s attention, yet he seemed oblivious.
He was gay, after all, so I guess girls didn’t matter to him, but not even half a mile later, a handsome guy who walked past us also checked him out.
And again, Mr. Rivas showed no interest.
How bizarre.
Wasn’t he constantly thinking about getting his dick wet and his urges satisfied? I mean, with the way he always stared at me, basically foaming at the mouth, he seemed like the type to jump at the first chance to get laid.
“You’re sure we’re on the right street?” he asked me.
“Yes.”
“It’s just that I’ve been here a few times before.”
I didn’t ask.
“I never knew there was an underground fighting ring in here.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s the whole point.”
“A real fight club. Just like in the movie.”
“Shout it so the whole world hears, why don’t you?”
He laughed. “I don’t think you need to worry. I mean, with how noisy it is, I can hardly hear myself think.”
Are you even capable of doing that?
He then got closer, nearly bumping his shoulder with mine.
“All I’m saying is that I didn’t know something like that happened here, that’s all.”
“You’d be surprised to know about the number of things happening in this city under your nose,” I said, and he tsked.
“I’m not a stranger to crime, you know? I’ve spent three years in prison.”
It didn’t escape me how his demeanor had just shifted. And it wasn’t the first time either. Whenever his time in the slammer was brought up, something came over him. Bad memories, regrets, trauma? I didn’t know, nor did I care to ask.
“We’re here,” I said, stopping in front of a glass door.
“Thought you said it was a club.” Taking a step forward, he studied the sign on the door. “This place looks like a travel agency.”
Ignoring his confusion, I walked in first, with him right behind. Inside, the noises from the street quieted down and were replaced with the soft sounds of jazz.
“How may I help you, sir?” asked the girl at the front desk.
A random person might confuse this place for a travel agency, with posters of cruises around the world and other similar crap hung on the walls. Only it wasn’t at all the case.
“I’d like to book a two-way trip to the French Riviera,” I said, a slight smile on my lips.
“The hell’re you on about—”
“Of course, sir,” the clerk said, cutting into Mr. Rivas’s growing confusion before she pointed toward the elevator at the far end of the room. “Please go to the first floor, where my associate will help you book your trip.”
“Thank you.”
“Bon voyage, sir,” she added, and I smiled at the Frenchman’s odd sense of humor.
“What the hell is going on?” Mr. Rivas asked while sticking to me like glue.
“Just stay quiet.”
Reaching the elevator, I pressed the call button while he kept looking around.
“Are we really booking a trip?”
The elevator’s doors opened.
“Get inside.”
“But—”
I clicked my tongue before I shoved him in first.
“Put your mask on,” I said after the doors closed, leaving us locked in an elevator that seemed to be from another century, with its handcrafted wooden walls and glorious chandelier.
That French bastard really dug this shit, didn’t he? Jealousy filled my mouth, as I should have gotten such a pretty elevator for my hotel. Where did he even find such a nice piece? Perhaps he imported it from France. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had connections—
“What’s up with the creepy cat?” Mr. Rivas asked. He had pulled the two masks out of the bag I’d given him earlier.
“It’s not a cat, but a fox. It's a kitsune mask.” I took one from him and put it on.
“Well, that’s one ugly fox.”
Instead of answering him, I pressed minus one when he had to open his mouth to speak again.
“Didn’t she say first floor?”
I turned to face him just as he put his mask on.
“From now on, not a word. Understood?”