Chapter 13
LEKS
This is going to leave bruises. I’m sweating like a pig and we’ve only had one round together.
So. Damn. Worth. It.
Being in the ring with Yuri has me feeling much more alive than I have in months. The pain, the danger, it’s as close to real life as anything has been since I arrived.
Took a while to talk him into it, but he’s certainly not holding back now that we’re fighting.
The usual fight club with the boys on the docks has nothing on this.
I duck a jab from one of those meaty fists.
The next one lands and I know that it’s going to leave a bruise, but the explosion of pain clears my head.
I haven’t told Natalia that it’s getting under my skin. Hearing about what a darling she is with the men at work. When I feel like I’d need a battering ram — actually, make it a fucking tank — to get through one layer of her walls.
That’s what fighting is for.
The pace. The adrenaline. The satisfaction.
When I’m in the ring, there’s nothing but me and survival. I am just an animal who has to get through the next second of existence.
“I like your new wife.”
I already hate where this conversation is going. I twist away, dropping his fist and stepping back. Why don’t I like him talking about her?
“Is that right?”
My jaw is so tense that it’s hard to get the words out.
I go right for his nose, suddenly overcome by rage, but he dodges away. For a giant motherfucker, Yuri is surprisingly light on his feet.
“I know you’re only marrying her for whatever this plan is, Leks. But she’s an attractive girl, no? You can still have a little fun together?”
I snort with laughter at that.
“No chance of fun happening in my household right now.”
I don’t think Natalia Bryusova has had fun in her entire life and she’s not about to start now. She’s always locking herself away in her room, or cuddling that fucking cat. It’s bad luck to give an animal a person’s name.
“You haven’t had a piece of that?”
I don’t answer that. Telling anyone that I’m married to Natalia in name only would sound like she’s wide open for the taking.
And she might not be fucking me, but I don’t want anyone else to think about it.
“C’mon, why not? Live a little, Leks. She’s sweet—”
He ducks away from my one-two punch, but I land another to his side as he tries to get away.
“She’s not sweet. She’s a spoiled brat.”
He shrugs, barely reacting to my next blow.
“Obviously, but you didn’t expect anything different. She refused to wear her hi-vis vest all week.”
“Of fucking course, wouldn’t want to mess with her princess outfits.”
I huff out a laugh at that, remembering her face when I’d thrown my hi-vis vest at her. The fact that she showed up to work with Yuri all week shocks me.
But I regret my decision to put her in his office when he continues.
“Nicer than I expected and pretty, too. Not the worst girl to marry I woulda thought.”
I land a jab in his stomach that knocks the wind out of him. Good. It makes him shut the fuck up about Natalia.
We box hard, lunging and scrapping, until I can’t think of anything except the fight.
Perfect.
Eventually Yuri pins me down to the mat, forcing me to tap out. Natalia immediately starts racing through my thoughts again.
What has she been doing at work with him all week? She’s barely said a word to me.
He helps me up and we head for water. I can’t let it drop.
“It’s not like I fucking chose her because she’s pretty, Yuri. I had to choose her for my plan to work out.”
“Sure, kid, I know you’ve got this big plan. All I’m saying is, if I had to marry someone as part of a scheme, Natalia wouldn’t be the last name on my list.”
And if I had to kill a motherfucker for talking about my wife, Yuri would be top of my list right now.
I shake my head as I douse myself with water, but it does nothing to simmer down the rage that’s building to fever pitch.
“Take it back.”
Yuri looks at me like I’m crazy.
“I know you hate her family. But can’t you see that she’s a nice girl? Good-looking, too? I mean, a guy would have to be blind not to wa—”
“That’s enough,” I growl, lunging towards Yuri and cracking a heavy blow right across his cheekbone.
The pain explodes in my hand, too. Motherfucker has a face made of steel.
Yuri’s mouth drops open and he backs away.
“Jeez, kid, that sounded like it hurt. She’s your wife, after all.”
“In name only,” I growl. “We haven’t touched each other.”
I do not like the way Yuri’s eyebrows raise at that, as if he’s surprised. As if he would have any shot with Natalia, regardless of whether she and I are fucking or not.
“I think we’re going too hard. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”
That’s the point.
“It’s fine,” I growl, gesturing for him to get back up, even as my hand starts to throb. “You’re not getting out of this that easily.”
There might be a fracture in one of my fingers, but that’s not enough to stop me when I’m in this state.
The Ivanov Center did have its advantages, and the number of psycho Bratva enforcers chomping at the bit to join a fight club was one of them.
When there’s not a helluva lot of other entertainment going, there’s nothing better than watching a fight with no rules.
“We’re going again.”
I drop my gloves to the ground and wave him towards me, signaling that he should do the same.
“Hope you’re ready to take my wife’s name out of your mouth.”
I always fight better when my blood is pumping with anger, and it definitely is right now.
Yuri pauses for a minute, assessing how serious I am. He lets out a chuckle as he strips his gloves off.
“Really got under your skin, huh? Well, enter at your own risk.”
This time it’s bloody and wordless. Flesh meeting knuckles meeting flesh in a relentless rhythm. Something clicks inside me during this fight, a new level of determination slowly unlocking.
I twist his arm behind his back until I feel the tension starting to strain and Yuri taps out. I keep the painful hold for another few seconds before I release him.
Then, as I help him up, I deck him in the face for good measure.
“Get the message? You don’t ever talk about my wife in that way again, you giant motherfucker.”
I double over from the exertion, but the ache spreading through my muscles is good. It’s clearing my head already.
“I thought she was a spoiled brat?” Yuri splutters as he grabs a towel for his busted nose. We’re both struggling to suck in air after that bout, but at least I’m not inhaling my own blood.
I hate that this motherfucker knows me well enough to call out my contradictions.
“She’s my spoiled brat.”