Chapter 21
Dominic
“I knew it,” Andrew says with a smirk as he swirls the whiskey in his glass. “I fucking knew it.”
“You knew what?” I snap.
We are at the Cockpit. Neither of us fight tonight, but for the sake of reputation we are here.
That and I like to study the tactics of the other fighters so I can predict their movements in future matches.
Tonight we are here to drink and peacock around with the girls.
They are currently peacocking alone by the bar while we sit back and watch.
“I knew you couldn’t keep your hands off her,” he says.
I yank my eyes away from Mila’s perfect ass to Andrew’s ugly mug. It isn’t easy to do, considering Mila’s outfit. She’s wearing a silver and black sequin dress that is so tight on her curves it looks like it was painted on. Her sky-high black stilettos make her ass look amazing.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I hiss.
Andrew just grins slyly. “I know you. It’s written all over your face, Dom. You fucked her. And if you didn’t fuck her, at the very least you ate her out.”
“Will you shut the fuck up?” I growl. I don’t know why I’m acting like the conversation is inappropriate.
The crowd at the Cockpit is the same one that goes to high-end strip clubs.
The only difference is they throw their money in the ring instead of at naked girls.
At least here there’s a payout if you play your cards right.
“You know, for a man that got his rocks off, you sure are grumpy. It’s probably your age,” he says.
“We could fight tonight if you want. I’ll hop in the ring with you right now,” I threaten, and Andrew chuckles.
As much as I hate his ability to read me, we both know there’s no sense in me denying it any longer. Actually, it would probably just make it more painful. At this point, denying it is just going to draw the process out even longer, like a tooth extraction without enough Novocain.
“I don’t know how it happened,” I say, my eyes back on the girls.
They’re standing at the bar waiting for drinks, talking to another group of girls.
Honestly, it’s kind of funny. Mila is entrancing.
Not just to me, but to everyone. The way she laughs and engages in conversation casts a spotlight on her.
Not glaringly in a Brynn kind of way. In the kind of way that a crackling fire draws you into a room during a snowstorm.
“I do,” Andrew cuts in. “You live in the same house. You know she is lying in her bed in her room, wearing sexy lingerie. All the while, you are in your room, lying in bed jerking off as you think about her in that sexy lingerie.”
“She doesn’t sleep in lingerie,” I correct him. “She sleeps in these skimpy little satin pajamas.”
Andrew points at me. “And you know that because you fucked her. Now spill it and don’t leave out any of the good parts.”
Jesus.
Well, I suppose I did it to myself when I told him I wasn’t going to have sex with her. And now, ‘I had sex with Mila,’ is apparently written all over my face.
“We had been fighting,” I say.
“Sounds about right. Needed to take out some frustration,” he nods.
“Do you want to hear this or not?” I snap.
“My bad, do tell,” he says, and I take in a deep breath and let it out in a frustrated sigh.
“It was after her little performance,” I say.
“Ah. The dance.”
“Yeah. The way she was flouncing around on the stage, shaking her ass and sending the entire room into an uproar.”
“She killed it,” he says.
“It was too much. It was not something we agreed to,” I say, taking a sip of my drink.
“I thought you said she couldn’t work at the Cockpit,” he objects.
“Exactly,”
“The dance routine isn’t actually part of the waitress’s job. That was all Brynn’s idea.”
“Still. I don’t know how I feel about–”
Andrew interrupts again. “About what? About your girl being the hottest in the room? About her catching everyone off guard by finishing Brynn’s routine in a cocktail dress and lacy panties?”
“How the fuck do you know what her panties look like?” I bark.
“Dom. The entire room saw what her panties looked like.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” I mutter. “The room has no right to know about her panties, yourself included.”
“Somebody sounds territorial,” he says, biting back a smile and doing a shitty job of it.
“She’s mine!” I snap, realizing what I’ve said only after I've said it.
Andrew just raises his eyebrows and takes a drink. His face says what his mouth doesn’t; everything packed into one small expression. I guess we have that in common–loud faces.
“I don’t know what came over me,” I say. “We got home, and she was just on this high. Smiling. Humming. Happy…” I rattle off.
“God, I hate that in a woman,” Andrew says sarcastically.
“I was just…fuming. She’s so…” I struggle in vain to find the word I want, realizing that nothing I can come up with comes even remotely close to describing the way I feel about her.
Maybe because I don’t know how I feel. Or maybe whatever I’m feeling is something I haven’t felt before.
Whatever it is, I don’t like it. It’s irritating.
“So what happened next?” he asks, leaning back in his chair. He’s loving every minute of this.
“I went into my office. Thought, maybe if I got some work done, I could just forget about it. I couldn’t concentrate, so I went to the liquor cabinet to make a drink, but I knew it wouldn’t help. The problem wasn’t in my head.”
“Nope. Not the one on your shoulders, anyhow,” he says.
“So I stomped over to her room and found her dancing again. When I saw that, I ripped into her, and Mila fought back. Things got heated and then…”
“Things got heated?” he grins. “Damn brother. I don’t know why you’re not enjoying this; that is hot!”
“But it wasn’t supposed to happen!” I argue.
“According to who?” he asks.
“It’s against the rules,” I state.
“Rules that you wrote, my friend. I’m pretty sure the author has the power to revise, or 86 that shit.
Who knows, if it’s that hot in private, your relationship will have a lot more chemistry in public.
And you’re going to need all the authenticity you can to convince your dad that this isn’t a ruse. Especially since, well, it’s a ruse.”
He’s not wrong. Annoying, maybe, but not wrong. Still, that’s not what we agreed to.
“She didn’t fight me about it,” I say. “I mean, after we finished screaming at each other, I tossed her on the bed. I thought she might have thought it was too much or too forceful, but there was nothing forced about it. She wanted me. She wanted everything that happened. Begged for it even,” I say, wiping my hand down my face and realizing that I am sweating.
“Sounds to me like you two need to rewrite that contract. Or, at the very least, add another clause. A benefits clause, if you will,” he says with a smug smile.
My attention slides back to Mila, who is sipping what looks like a soda and laughing with Bianca and one of the waitresses.
Half the room is watching her, which makes my blood boil.
Then, as if she can feel my eyes on her, her gaze sweeps in my direction and she smiles sweetly.
It’s enough to simmer my blood down a little and make my heart thrum against my ribs.
“She is the best I’ve ever had,” I admit. “In every way.”
“Damn, brother,” Andrew says with a low whistle. “I believe it.”
“But I never said that,” I add, taking a sip of my drink.
“Keeping secrets over here, boys?” Rafe says out of nowhere, pulling up a chair at our table. My brow hardens into a scowl.
“Eavesdrop much?” Andrew asks.
“That would imply I actually care what you’re talking about,” Rafe says, making himself comfortable.
“What do you want?” I bullet out, getting right to the point.
“So hostile,” he grins, turning to Andrew. “Is he always in this bad a mood after getting laid?”
“Only when he’s dealing with an asshole,” Andrews says.
So he was eavesdropping.
“While I’m here, I might as well ask the question that’s on every man’s mind in the room,” he says. “What’s going on with you and the new girl?”
“You mean Mila?” Andrew asks, even though the question is obviously for me.
“Why do you wanna know?” I nod up at him.
Rafe shrugs. “Just wondering if she is off the market,” he says, reaching for one of the wings off our plate.
“What’s it to you?” Andrew asks with a disbelieving chuckle as he shoots me a get a load of this guy look.
“She’s off the market,” I say. I’m not playing games, especially with this joker.
His eyebrows arch up, and he nods as he chews. “Alright. Fair enough. I just wanted to see if it was a one time thing.”
Andrew’s jaw clenches, but I make a point of keeping my temper even. I lean toward Rafe slowly, and with a measured smile, I say, “It’s an all the time thing,” I say, nailing every word down.
Rafe isn’t intimidated. “I see. Well. I think congratulations is in order, isn’t it?” He claps his hands together before snapping his fingers at a waitress passing by with complimentary shots.
“I’m good,” I say.
“Bullshit. You’re not fighting tonight. And if the infamous Dom Wolfe is finally on a leash, I think that deserves some whiskey! Don’t you?”
Andrew shoots me a look that says, I’ll kill him right now with my bare hands if you want me to. But I just shake my head subtly and accept the shot.
“To Dom and Mila,” Rafe says as his eyes lock on mine. “May your relationship be the real thing.”
We toss the whiskey back and I focus on the burn and not what he said. After that, he claps his palms on our table and shoves up from the stool before walking off.
“What the fuck was that?” Andrew snaps as soon as Rafe is out of earshot.
“That,” I say. “Is our opponent sniffing around for information.”
“You think he knows the truth about you and Mila?” Andrew asks.
My eyes lock on Rafe from across the room. He’s flirting with Brynn, who, despite being his ex, always flirts back. His eyes flash to mine for a challenging moment before gravitating back to her.
“I think he knows more than that,” I say. “I think he knows about the stipulation on my inheritance.”