Chapter Five #2
“What’s with those?” I ask, pointing to the bags.
“I told you I’d replace the dress I ripped, so I did.” He shrugs.
“Uhh, thanks?” I don’t mean it to come out as a question but it does. “You do realise there are two bags there, don’t you? You only ripped one dress.”
“I know, and I fully intend on ripping this particular dress again, next time I see you wearing it. That’s why there’s two. Now when I rip the new dress, you already have another one.” He ends with a wink.
I actually think he’s serious right now. “You’re not going to be ripping any dresses off me again, Bray. Sorry, but you wasted your money.”
“Agree to disagree, babe, that seems to be becoming a thing for us. Drive safe, and text me or call me when you get home.” He doesn’t let me respond before shutting the door and walking into his house.
Well, I hope for his sake he is a patient man. Because he’s going to be waiting a long time for that text to come.
One week. I have managed to work at The Merge for a whole week without having to run into Bray once. I’ve dodged corners, and hidden out in bathrooms to achieve this, but achieve it I have.
I’ve gotten to know a lot of the staff here.
The bar staff is great, especially James.
He and I are going to be great friends. The security staff on the other hand is hard to read.
Other than Dean, they all seem to avoid me like the plague.
Whenever I go to talk to any of them or try to ask them something, they mumble under their breaths and make an excuse that they have to go.
Dean is always quick to come and find me to see what it is I need.
I mean, it’s not that I don’t like Dean.
I do. It’s just hella weird. I’ve never had men avoid me like this; usually it’s the other way around, like me avoiding Bray for instance.
“Reilly, are you listening?” Zac asks.
Oh shit. Yep, totally zoned out while I was in a meeting with Zac. I should be jotting down all the notes and the endless list he wants me to do.
“Sorry, I must have missed that. What’d you say?
” I try for my sweet, butter wouldn’t melt voice.
It gets me absolutely nowhere with Zac though.
He is a man on a mission. He knows what he wants and goes for it.
I actually respect the hell out of him, but I will go to my grave before I ever admit that.
I admire the business side of him. The way he has built this business up from the ground and at such a young age is admirable. Again, I’m never admitting that to anyone.
“Well, if you’re done daydreaming, and please do refrain from sharing whatever thoughts had you pre-occupied, I need you to go to the store and get a dress,” he says.
This has my attention. I don’t know whether I should be pissed off, or excited at this point. Pissed off, because I am not his bloody personal shopper, and excited because shopping and Zac’s credit card seem like one hell of a good time.
“First, I am not your personal shopper. Second, prepare to lose your balls if that dress you want me to buy is not for Alyssa.” I glare at him for extra measure.
He scrunches his eyebrows up. “First, you’re my employee, under my employ. If I ask you to run an errand, that’s what you’ll do. Second, who the hell else do you think I’d be buying a fucking dress for?”
“Good answer, but why do you need to buy Lyssa a dress?” It seems like an odd request, even from him. Trust me, I’ve had some odd requests over the week.
“There’s a fight tonight after her shift. She’s coming, and I’m guessing that she’s not going to want to go out into the club or down to the basement in her scrubs.”
“You’re actually going to take her down to the basement? I haven’t even seen this exclusive basement yet. If I buy the dress, I’m coming to the fight.”
“I don’t have a choice. I have to be there—it’s the last fight of the year. And I’m sure as fuck not going to leave Alyssa up here by herself.” Standing, he takes a black card from his wallet and hands it over.
“Here, buy something suitable, but make sure it actually covers her. I don’t need all the fuckers down there to be staring at what’s mine,” he says, like I’m going to listen to a word of that.
Inspecting the fancy black card, I ask, “Is there a limit on this bad boy?”
“No, make sure you get her shoes as well, and be back by nine. The fight starts at nine thirty tonight, and I have a feeling that you’re not going to want to miss it.”
“Are you serious? I’ve been waiting all week to see what happens down there.
I’ll be back.” As I’m walking out of his office, the pierced cucumber walks in.
I mean Bray, Bray walks in. Wearing a pair of sweats, nothing else.
And there go the ovaries again. Doing my best not to be obviously checking him out, I hurry out of the office and get the hell out of the building.
I think I’ll enjoy this little shopping trip.
Just one glance at Bray, and I need to recalibrate my system into the I don’t want Bray Williamson or junior, his pierced cucumber, mentality. I’m probably the only woman on earth to ever mutter that sentence.
One hell of a shopping trip later, I’m standing next to one very excited Alyssa and one very pissed at me Zac.
Let’s just say he was not impressed with the dress I picked out for her; but damn, she is owning that dress.
Her body is killer and she has curves in all the right places. It’s a crime not to show it off.
The crowd down here is pumped. We’ve watched a few fights already and are apparently waiting for the main event. Although no one will comment on who the fighters are in the main event. The cage has just been cleaned out after the last fighters.
I’m not surprised that even down here, in this underground fight club, Zac has everything running like a fine-tuned machine. All of a sudden, the lights go dark, then a spotlight shines at the fighter’s entrance and “T.N.T.” by ACDC blasts from the speakers.
I strain my neck to see who this fighter is that’s coming out. I really, really shouldn’t have looked. Of course, he has to be a fucking cage fighter. Walking out with two women wearing just bikinis, one hanging off each side of him, is no other than Bray fucking Williamson.
He comes out wearing I guess what he is passing off as a pair of black shorts, though they look more like painted on boxer briefs. His whole body is on display for all to see; those two skanky card girls in bikinis sure are getting their fill.
Bray is dancing and playing it up to the crowd.
And although those girls try to get up and rub all over him, I do smile a little when I see him shake his head no at them and move them back an inch.
Huh, that’s interesting. The bikini girls look just as shocked as I am at the turn of events.
Bray steps into the cage, and I’m ashamed to say that my eyes haven’t strayed too far from him the whole time he’s been dancing his way out here.
Looking to Lyssa standing next to me, I can tell straight away something is wrong. She’s panicked, looking all around the room. Zac is holding her like his life depends on it; his face is as stern and furious as I’ve ever seen it.
“What’s wrong?” I yell over the noise of the crowd.
He doesn’t say anything, just hands me Lyssa’s phone with a message open on it. My blood goes cold when I see the message. This cannot be happening to her again. I don’t know how she can survive living through another stalker coming at her like this.
You shouldn’t touch things that don’t belong to you! He was mine first. I saw him first! I won’t warn you again, bitch. He is MINE. He will be with me again, even if I have to take you out myself. xxx
I feel helpless. I don’t know what to do right now. I look back to the cage and my eyes land on Bray. He’s staring at me, eyes squinted. He looks like he’s ready to jump back out of the cage. Then he looks at Zac and nods before indicating to the ref that he’s ready.
I watch Bray’s movements, unable to take my eyes off him.
My heart feels like it stops as the bell rings to begin the fight.
It seems like only seconds later Bray’s opponent is on the ground, knocked out cold from one hit.
Bray leaps out of the cage, ignoring the calls from the crowd and heads straight for us. Straight for me.
He wraps his arm around me, and I let him.
I soak up the comfort that he’s offering and take everything I can.
He says something to Zac and Dean before guiding me along with the rest of our group out of the basement.
He doesn’t let go and I honestly don’t think I want him to right now.
That text message even freaked me out, and I don’t scare easily.
I’m not scared for myself. I’m scared for my best friend. I’m scared for how this is going to affect her. I know what she needs. What she needs right now is her girls—this calls for a slumber party of the most epic proportions. Lots of alcohol, snacks and more alcohol will be consumed tonight.