Control. This fight was mine, and it wasn’t to the death. It was to the distraction. The next time he attacked, he spun around at the last minute to tag me, but I was already spinning away.
I felt like a matador toying with a bull that got more enraged every time it didn’t gore me. He fed off my pain, and without it, he struggled.
The next time he charged me, I took it when he was expecting deflection, but I rolled with him, using his momentum against him. I had him down and used the opportunity to knee those kidneys while I choked him out. I held onto him while he bucked and struggled, as wriggly as a fish on a line, desperate to get free and eat me, but I wasn’t going to let him go.
Finally, the last bell buzzed and Nix was there, although he didn’t need to be, because I rolled off Philippe like it wasn’t personal, like I didn’t care about him or his pain, because he couldn’t touch me or my heart ever again. It felt like that, like the misery he’d given me, that he’d relished so much, wasn’t as important as protecting my wife.
Philippe sprang up and was at me, not nearly hurt badly enough to stop fighting. Horse was right there behind him, dragging him to a stop.
“Fight’s over,” Nix snapped.
“I want a rematch!” Phillipe said, struggling against Horse.
I delicately touched my face and smiled when I realized that my nose wasn’t broken. I didn’t even lose a tooth in that brawl. “Talk to Nix. He’s the team leader. I’ve got to get back to bed before my wife wakes up. I don’t think either of us will leave it for a few days.” I winked at him and for a second he reared back, getting out of Horse’s grasp, but there was Nix, and he knew how to look down a bull so it stopped before you gored it. Nix was a bull-goring human if ever there was one.
“The season’s over,” Nix snapped, shoving Philippe back. “You want a senseless brawl? Find someone who isn’t a professional. Dirk is a professional.” He gave me a nod of approval.
I couldn’t help smiling as I turned away, climbed out of the ring and was surrounded by Roger and Trevor.
“I’m going to check you over before I send you home to your… wife?” Roger raised a perfectly shaped brow skeptically.
“Yes. She’s my wife, and I intend to keep her.”
38
VILLAIN
Igot the message when I got off the plane at six a.m., reading the email on my phone as I walked through the airport.
Mr. Harrison is available for a short lunch meeting at the Caverne’s Delight. Please be there by noon.
It wasn’t signed, but it was from his secretary. Clint wanted to see me personally? I stopped walking while my heart raced, urging my legs to carry me back towards the plane and Dirk. I’d married him impulsively because I didn’t want to face my ex, but this was the best way to defeat Philippe. I forced myself to keep going. I didn’t text back because there wasn’t anything to say. He’d be there, and if I showed up, he’d see me, but he wasn’t going to actually change any of his plans for me. Good. He’d apparently moved on. He probably came out to Vegas to find pleasant diversions. No, he’d come to see me, and I’d have to find out why. I’d have to be persuasive and charming. I’d have to not burst into tears or try to kill him.
I spent the morning with my lawyer, the woman who had taught me everything I knew about business. Susan Fairlite was surprised to see me, since she thought that she was meeting with someone else. The location was secure, and she’d be kept inunconscious isolation once we were finished with our business. She’d appreciate the effort I made to knock her unconscious and tie her up, because that way, grandfather wouldn’t see her behavior as treacherous, not that it should be, since I was one of my grandfather’s heirs. At any rate, I had her lying comfortably on a couch, bound and gagged by eleven forty-five, at a location that happened to be in walking distance to the restaurant. I didn’t have time to take a route that wouldn’t lead me past my old apartment. Clint’s apartment. Either way. I walked quickly as I neared the entrance, wishing I’d taken the other sidewalk.
A small brown ball of energy darted out of the building and towards the road where cars rushed along. I dove after it, capturing the ball of joyful cocker mutt and ruining my neat skirt suit in the process. I’d felt a seam rip, and my hat had fallen off my pink hair, no doubt ruining my neat chignon.
Mr. Maples licked my chin and wagged his tail while I stared at him, my heart thumping like a galloping horse.
The doorman came over as quickly as he could with his old bones. “Miss Delavigne? Is that you? Barely recognized you with that pink hair. Here’s your hat. Let me help you up. Thanks for catching Maples. After the surgery, he’s better than new. Here we go.”
I let the old man help me to my feet, still gripping the dog like I couldn’t let go. “Surgery?”
The doorman beamed at me. “Sure. He ran away shortly after you broke up with Mr. Clint, and then was returned by a lawyer. Apparently, someone with too much money hit him with a car, and out of guilt or a fear of litigation… but anyway, that’s not the important thing, is it, Mr. Maples?” He took the animal out of my arms, and the dog licked him happily while my own heart raced.
“Wasn’t he supposed to die?”
“Not for a long time yet. Are you coming in? You never got your things from the apartment, did you? Mr. Clint is out for the day, so you won’t have to worry about running into him.”
“I…” I straightened my shoulders and put my hat back on. “I’m on my way to a lunch appointment. It’s good to see you, though. Both of you.” I smiled and took a few minutes I couldn’t afford to pet Mr. Maples while my heart expanded. I loved that silly dog, and the doorman who always had something kind to say to everyone, even the villains. They were still here, still making the world more beautiful, one day at a time.
“Don’t cry, Miss,” he said, handing me a tissue.
I hadn’t realized I’d been crying; apparently, it was just my default these days. “Thank you. I really must go.”
“Of course. Come on Maples. I have one of your yummy treats waiting for you. Don’t be like that. It’s good for you, and you don’t want to get sick again, do you? No, of course you don’t.”
I walked slower than I should while my mind spun. I needed to be in complete control of myself so I could take control of Clint, but how could I when I was still sniffling? I got to the restaurant late, but I couldn’t seem to make myself hurry. I felt like I was walking towards my own funeral. It wasn’t death I was afraid of, but walking back into the person I’d been before.
