“Do you want me to fight the Russian again?” I ask. I’m torn between wanting to beat him again for starting shit and spreading rumors, and not upsetting Rose.
Reaper pauses, studying me closely. “Once you beat him, they can’t ask for a rematch again. It will be publicly embarrassing for them. The fight would take the heat off us.”
My jaw clenches, but I say nothing.
“They’ve got ties with bad people,” he continues. “I don’t want it to end with people getting hurt. We’ve got a lot to lose with women and children here. They know where we live, and they’ve seen Rose on numerous occasions now. I don’t know what they’re capable of.”
My body turns to stone, each muscle locking up. It feels like there’s a noose around my neck at the thought of Rose in danger.
He lets out a heavy sigh. “I don’t want to risk anybody getting hurt, but essentially”—he looks at me for several seconds—“it’s your call.”
A storm is brewing inside of me. Anxiety, anger, and restlessness clash. I feel like I’m being pulled in different directions. Will Rose be able to handle another fight, and so quickly? She’s already gone through so much. But what if Reaper is right and they hurt one of us—that would fall directly on my shoulders. It’d be my fault.
“I’m not sure,” I answer honestly.
He nods. “That’s fine. We don’t need to know right away. You two are both recovering, so it wouldn’t be for at least one to two weeks. If you don’t want to, we’ll sort something else out.”
I leave and go upstairs to my room. I fall onto the bed and look at the ceiling. I hate that the Russians have pulled me back into this situation. Fair is fair. I won. No one else has ever claimed that our fights are rigged. They lost money; that’s their problem.
Rose
It takes me a few hours,but I finish the customer’s order—two dainty single rings that sit perfectly together. I place it in a small bag, then in a small shipping box, and stick the address label on top. I smile. It’s all ready to go.
I’m delighted to go out for lunch. I don’t know what to do about the future, but I figure I’ll wait until after the wedding to make a decision—while saving my money in case I have to move. In the meantime I’m going to enjoy my time here and not take a moment for granted.
I peek into the bedroom, but Rage isn’t there. I grab the lingerie he bought me and a burgundy wrap dress and head to the shower. After shaving and freshening up, I slip into the dress, straighten my hair, and apply makeup. Not to brag, but I’m rocking this look. I can’t wait for Rage to see me in the dress.
I slide on black wedge sandals and grab my bag and tuck the package inside. It’s 12:45 p.m., so Rage should be close to ready. My heart pounds as I head downstairs, gripping the handrail to steady my two left feet in these shoes.
As I reach the bottom, I hear whistling. My cheeks burn when I spot Viper and Sophie at the bar.
I laugh nervously as Sophie walks over and twirls me around. “Look at you, you sexy thing!” she exclaims before planting kisses on both my cheeks.
“Thank you,” I reply softly, still embarrassed.
“Rage is one lucky man,” Viper adds with a grin.
“Aww, thank you.”
Ava pops her head out of the kitchen and rushes over, pulling me into a hug. “You’re beautiful,” she says warmly.
“Thank you,” I reply, overwhelmed by the compliments.
“Have you seen Rage?” I ask, glancing around.
“I think he’s in the computer room with Twitch,” Viper says.
I proceed to the computer room and pop my head inside. Rage is standing by the desk. They both turn when they hear me. Rage’s eyes widen as he drinks me in, and I see fire igniting in his eyes. I gulp.
He strides to me and pretends to bite my neck, making me laugh and sending goosebumps up my arms. “You look and smell so fucking good,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “I’m trying to be good, butdamnnn, all I want to do is pick you up and take you back to the bedroom.”
I grin and whisper back, “Lunch first.”
He gives me a naughty grin, wraps his arms around me, and squeezes my ass, making me laugh. “Let’s go, my sexy cougar,” he says, taking my hand as we go to the truck.
“Wait, can I get a photo of us?” I ask, wanting to capture the moment.
“Sure,” he responds. I take a picture with my phone. When I check the photo, I’m looking at the camera, smiling, but he’s looking at me, grinning, and the adoring look he’s giving me warms my heart. It’s a reminder that he does care about me.
