Chapter 15
Dominic
“Watch the eye,” I growl at Andrew, dodging his fist by less than an inch.
“I thought we were sparing,” he says, going for another jab.
“We are. But this stupid cut is almost healed, and I’d rather not split it open again,” I tell him as we pivot.
“Maybe you should’ve gotten stitches,” he says, dodging a jab from me. “Would’ve held better.”
“Yeah?” I ask. “Why don’t I do the same to your lip and we’ll see how well it holds?”
I go for an uppercut, and he dodges it. Then he gets me with an overhead and I fall back.
“Good thing we’re practicing, you’re a bit rusty,” he chuckles.
“Is that an age joke?” I ask, socking him good enough to nearly knock him down.
“Easy, brother, I’m nearly the same age as you. Just born in a different decade, that’s all. How were the seventies anyway?” he grins, and I clock him. The smile is gone, and he grabs his jaw, chewing for a moment. “You know maybe we should take five.”
“Yeah, let’s do that,” I let out before hopping through the ropes and jogging up towards the bar. It’s the middle of the day and no one is working. Niko’s never said anything to me about helping myself to some refreshments while getting in some extra practice. So, I help myself.
A moment later, Andrew catches up to me.
“What’s going on with you today, Dom?” he asks as I grab a glass and hold it under one of the beer taps. I don’t consider day drinking a bad thing if it’s only once in a while; it’s just beer anyway.
“I asked Mila to marry me,” I mutter as I toss some of the foam from the top of the glass.
“Shut up,” he chuckles, grabbing a glass for himself. Then he looks over at me, and I’m not smiling. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I need to get hitched if I want the money, so I asked her to marry me,” I answer, taking a long pull from the glass of beer.
“Mila?” he asks and I nod. “Your maid?” he asks.
I nod again. “She’s also a waitress at the Cockpit,” I add, taking a second sip. Then I put the glass back under the tap. Funny how an ice-cold beer hits the spot after getting hit in the face.
“Shut up,” he says again. “Which one is she?”
“The one that looks like my maid wearing a cheap blonde wig,” I say.
“Jesus,” he laughs, bringing the glass to his mouth, but stopping before it reaches his lips. “Wait a minute. Is she the one who dumped a drink on Rafe’s non-existent dick before you whisked her off into the night?”
“Yep,” I say.
Andrew leans into me and grins. “You mean to tell me you fucked your maid and didn’t even know it was her?” he laughs. We aren’t even in the ring and he’s still throwing jabs.
“She didn’t look like my maid,” I say in my defense.
“Your maid didn’t look like the waitress, or the waitress didn’t look like your maid?” he asks.
“Both,” I snap. “And neither of them looked like the girl I ran into the other night in the green dress.”
“God, I knew she looked familiar,” he says, rubbing his chin. “So which one do you wanna fuck next? The maid, the waitress, or the bombshell? I used to hook up with this girl who liked to roleplay in the bedroom, but you’re taking this to a whole new level.”
“I’m not fucking her!” I growl.
“Well, you’re going to have to if you’re going to make an honest woman out of her,” he says.
“It’s not like that,” I tell him and Andrew pulls up a stool.
“I knew there was a catch. What is it?”
I let out an exhausted breath. “I asked her to marry me because what other choice do I have? That money is locked as long as I am a bachelor. I figured making a deal with the woman I’m already around five days a week was probably the easier route to go,” I explain, taking another sip.
“Is that all?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” he answers, scratching the back of his neck. “You didn’t pick her because maybe you…you know…”
“Maybe I what?” I spit out.
“Have feelings for her,” he answers. He would have been better off keeping quiet.
“Of course not!”
“Why not?” he asks. “You said it yourself. She’s very attractive.”
“She’s my maid,” I remind him.
“So?”
“So. I’m not getting married for love. We have already discussed the arrangement. I need a wife to get the money from my dad. She needs money too, and as soon as we sign the papers, it’s over.”
“How romantic,” he muses.
“Are you finished yet?” I ask.
“No. While I’m pissing you off outside the ring, there is one other thing. I don’t think trying to trick your dad is such a good idea. He might be a dick, but he’s not stupid.”
I snort. “Listen, scheming my old man is the least of my worries. I don’t give a shit how he feels about anything.
He’s spent the last forty-three years of my life reminding me just how disappointing I am to him.
I intend to spend the next couple of months getting what I deserve for putting up with him. ”
“I’m just saying you should proceed with caution,” he says. “If he figures it out, you can probably kiss all that money all the way goodbye.”
“Well luckily, that’s not going to happen,” I tell him, rinsing my glass and placing it in the dishwasher. “And you know what else isn’t going to happen? Me having feelings for the bride to be.”
“Yeah?” he asks, rinsing his own glass out.
“Yeah. The last thing I intend to do in this relationship is fall in love,” I say as I make my way to the locker room.
“Good luck,” he calls out before I’m out of earshot.
That afternoon, I’m back at the Cockpit, the civilian side. It’s not a place I go often. I’m more of a lounge kind of guy. I know Mila will be here for the first shift. I checked the schedule on my way out. I take a seat at the bar and wait.
“Well hey there, handsome,” a bartender purrs. I don’t even have to look up to know it’s Brynn. Of all the waitresses at the Cockpit, she makes the most rounds, in more ways than one. I think I might be the only fighter who hasn’t partaken. “Funny seeing you while the sun’s up.”
“You’re not wrong, I do try to avoid it,” I say.
She giggles and leans on the bar, putting her rack on display. It’s much to look at. She’s not really my type anyway, but I’m not going to be an ass.
“Alright. Well, how about I fix you your regular and you tell me what’s brought you in? Other than to see me,” she says.
“Not today, B. I’m here to have a conversation, and I’d rather I was sober for it,” I tell her. “I might order some food, though.”
“A good conversation?” she asks, setting a water and a menu in front of me.
“Not exactly,” I answer. “I’ll take the wing basket. Smoked barbeque. Blue cheese and no fries.” I don’t need the extra carbs. It’s not as easy to maintain a nine percent body fat percentage at my age.
“Then why do you want to be sober for it?” she asks, and I smile.
“Do you know when Mila comes in?” I ask, looking at my watch.
“She said she was going to be a couple minutes late,” Brynn says. “She woke up nauseous today, I guess. Probably out drinking with Lainey last night,” she mutters.
Funny. I don’t know that the girl has ever accepted a drink from me. A small part of me can’t help but worry whether she’s okay.
“Mila is who you’re here for?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I answer. Brynn doesn’t seem to love that answer, but I cut the conversation short when Mila comes walking in.
“Sorry I’m late. I stopped at the store on my way here for some–” she pauses when she sees me. “Anti-acids.”
“You know I find French toast to be the best hangover food,” Brynn says with a fake smile.
“I’m not hung over,” Mila says as she ties on her apron. “I’m just…not feeling well.”
“Alright, well hopefully you can make it through the shift because tonight is probably going to be rough,” Brynn says before heading into the kitchen. Mila and I are now alone.
I watch her clock in; she does not look at me.
“You said I had twenty-four hours,” she says.
“I know,” I tell her. “I’m just here to get something to eat.”
Mila smiles, and my chest tightens. “You don’t eat bar food,” she says.
“How do you know?” I ask.
Her eyes flash up to mine as she shoves her book in her apron. She’s still not wearing her wig and her hair is down. The familiar scent of raspberries and roses wafts through the air. “Because I cook for you, remember?”
She walks off to the bathroom to finish getting ready. My eyes follow her, accompanied by a one-sided smirk. But as I swivel on the stool, the smile fades as Rafe walks in the door.
“Evening, ladies,” he says, addressing all the men in the room, including me.
“Hey Rafe,” Brynn says as she reappears.
“Hey sweetheart, fix me a drink, will ya? Actually, make that shots. One for everyone in the bar,” he says, taking a seat two stools away from me.
“Well someone’s in a good mood,” Brynn says. I nod up at her and shake my head.
“You’re turning down a free shot?” she asks. “Why?”
“I am in a good mood because my company just landed a job providing security for the governor of California,” he says.
That’s why.
“Well that’s exciting!” she says as she pours the whiskey. “How’d you manage that?”
“They came knocking, and we answered the door,” he answers. I just might have to borrow some of those anti-acids from Mila.
“Well I’m not surprised at all,” she says as she passes out the shots.
“Neither am I,” I say, digging into the wings.
Rafe downs his shot, and his eyes drag over to mine.
Here we go.
“I am surprised you passed it up,” he says.
I finish chewing before acknowledging him, though I don’t bother looking at him. I don’t want to lose my appetite. “It was an easy call. Waste of money.”
“Couldn’t afford it?” he asks, and my jaw tenses.
“I try to be smart about where I invest,” I answer. “I’m saving the helicopters for the next president.”
“Mm,” he nods, reaching for the drink Brynn set down in front of him. “I’m sure it’s hard having to hold back on an opportunity when you have limited resources.”
I look at him. “I’m sure it’s hard having to flex your muscles around the clock just to convince everyone in the room that you have what it takes to be there.”
Rafe opens his mouth to say something to me when Mila walks out of the bathroom. Her hair and makeup all fixed.
“I’ll do it,” she says, and I turn my attention to her.
“I’m sorry?” I ask.
“I said, I’ll do it,” she echoes. “You have yourself a deal, but I want a written contract with rules and stipulations.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say with a nod. Then she walks into the kitchen. Suddenly I don’t care about Rafe and his bullshit. I’m too busy taking in what just happened, and wondering if I’m in over my head.