“He’s going to fucking kill you, Matt.”
With that, he storms out, shouting at Jules to take over as my guard so he can “take care of urgent Syndicate business.”
Shit. I’ve never seen Aron so furious, not in my entire life spent with him.
I don’t see what the big deal is. I’ve taken on men as big as Grady before. Bigger, even. I’m still alive to brag about it, so why worry? There’s a lifetime of martial training in my head, from the best that Dad could afford to bribe or threaten. Grady has, at best, had rudimentary street fighting for his education. I know all the pressure points, locks, and holds to take out men threetimes my size. Sure, there’s a bit of risk, but the same could be said about any worthwhile venture.
Since Aron’s not going to help, I have Jules bring Grady to my office.
Grady might not be fully twice my size, but he’s probably about one and a half times, if you go strictly by weight. The big, bald man has a solid hundred pounds of muscle mass on me, easily as many tattoos, if not more, and a plethora of body piercings which, I’m told, the prison guards were all too chicken to remove. In addition to all that, there are some … rather interesting body modifications. Metal studs, implanted in several strategic locations. Eyebrows. Cheeks. But, more importantly, his knuckles.
This man has a high pain tolerance, and he’s custom-built for destruction.
I can’t let him see an ounce of weakness. This is as much a mind game as it is a physical battle.
“Good afternoon, Grady. I trust you’re sleeping well here.”
Grady snorts. “Fucking pansy-ass mattress is too soft. I’d do better with a fucking concrete block.”
“Noted.” I gesture to the couch across from my desk, silently offering him a seat. “The leather might be a bit too cushy for you, but it also might be more comfortable than standing.”
He flashes his fang-grilled smile. “I’ll stay where I am, thank you.” There’s an uncomfortable silence while he surveys my office. Finally, he turns back to me with a face of mock concern. “Your girlfriend is missing. Everything okay at home, Don Matteo?”
“Cinder is tending to other business today.”
Grady’s smile widens. “I wasn’t talking about Cinder.”
Great. He’s clocked my relationship with Aron. That could spell trouble, especially if he decides to spread the word.
Luckily, Jules doesn’t outwardly react to Grady’s comment. As far as I can tell, he either didn’t hear, didn’t pick up on the inference, or didn’t care, any of which I can handle. The second rumors about our relationship start to fly, I’m as good as dead.
That might be Grady’s goal. He’s working at getting inside my head, at upsetting me. I need to focus. I can’t fall prey to this tactic.
“I have a proposition for you, Grady.”
“I don’t really swing that way, Don. Sorry to disappoint.”
I refuse to take that bait. “How would you like a chance to earn some freedom? I’m talking no guards, no surveillance, just full autonomy.”
For once, Grady’s aloof veneer cracks. There’s a brief flash of desperation before he resets.
“What’s the catch?”
“If you lose, you toe the line. In house by curfew, only kill who I tell you to kill, one hundred percent obedience.”
“That’s your big deal? No dice.”
I raise a brow. “Oh, I think you’ll like this deal. You see, I haven’t told you what you have to do to earn your freedom. It might be a simple task.”
The beast’s dark eyes narrow at me. He seems suspicious, and rightfully so.
Now for the big reveal.
“You. Me. The courtyard here at the mansion. The entire Royal Syndicate watching. We go at it until one of us is down.”
Grady crosses his arms over his broad chest. “What constitutes ‘down’?”
“Unable to continue. Interpret that as you will.”
