Bolt made it clear last night that, according to Smoke, Bolt’s job is keeping an eye on me at all times. Which doesn’t include the numerous times we had sex or the outstanding number of orgasms he gave me.
I let my gaze shift to the other side of the gym, where a glass wall encases what looks like an office. Inside this office stands Blood and one of the other men at the table last night, Diesel. Their eyes are pinned on Bolt and me. I’m sure not much gets past these men.
BOLT
After leaving Nicoletta in Maxie’s capable hands, I head for the office on the other side of the gym. Blood and Diesel track me through the glass, so I’m fully prepared for their shit talk when I enter.
Diesel’s lips twist into a smirk. “I see you’re being a good guardian.”
“Save it.” I knock out a cigarette from the pack on his desk and light up.
“Ohhhhh, somebody ain’t happy,” Blood adds. “What’s a matter, you got your balls in a twist ‘cause Prez said you gotta keep your hands off her?”
“Looks to me more like he’s got blue balls.” Diesel continues, “Probably didn’t sleep very good either knowing that sexy ass was in the next room, and he couldn’t stick his dick in her.”
They both have a good laugh at my expense, when I’m the one who gets the last laugh. If they only knew all the ways meand Nicoletta got into it last night, they’d have to take a cold shower.
I take a few more deep drags, then point the cig at Diesel. “You ready to train me, or you got more bullshit you wanna throw at me?”
“Testy, testy.” Diesel throws a look at Blood. “Better make sure Gina lets him get his dick wet tonight. Take the edge off.”
“I don’t need Gina. All I need is a good workout so I’m ready for the fights on Saturday.”
Diesel cuffs my shoulder. “Okay, but I got one more question. Are you bringing your Beverly Hills princess to fight night, ‘cause I’m not too sure she could handle it.”
“You got nothing better to do than gossip like a little girl?” I evade Diesel’s fist as we leave Blood’s office and head to the sparring ring.
Diesel’s words stay in my head. Fight nights are crazy and out of control. We keep security as tight as possible, but it would be the perfect opportunity for someone to get to her. I make a mental note to take it up with Smoke before Saturday.
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. After my workout with Diesel, I trained the two prospects, but no matter how involved I got, my eyes tracked Nicoletta.
The easy, graceful way she moved, who she talked to. She seemed to be getting on with Maxie and Martina, but that didn’t surprise me. For all her privilege and money, a realness shown through. Like her telling me she worked with abused women. That hit me deep and let me see her in another light.
NICOLETTA
A few hours later, along with Maxie, I met Martina, who’s with Diesel, then later in the day, I met Marisol, who’s with Smoke. Imagining these women, who are both physically and mentally strong, with such alpha men makes me wonder how their relationships work.
“I guess you could say our men know how far they can push us.” Marisol uncaps the bottle of water from the top of Maxie’s desk, then leans against it. “And we know how far we can push them.”
“It’s all about respecting boundaries,” Maxie adds. “When I got with Blood, he was pig-headed, stubborn, and a great pain in the ass.”
“And now?” I ask.
“He’s still pig-headed, stubborn, and a great pain in the ass, but he knows how and when to bend.” Maxie laughs around her words. “Although sometimes I do have to remind him.”
“Right.” Martina shoulder-butts Maxie. “Like last Friday night when he thought the prospect was getting a little too close to you at the bar?”
“Exactly.” Maxie smiles. “It might’ve taken a minute, but I got his jealous ass calmed down, and also saved the prospect from getting a mouthful of Blood’s fist.”
I shake my head. “I give you women a lot of credit. I wouldn’t know the first thing about taming men like this. My expertise runs to the pretty boys at the Riviera Country Club.”
The three women exchange a look, and I cover my words with, “Believe me, I’m not bragging, just stating a fact, ‘cause some of those rich boys can be?—”
“Way the fuck worse than any outlaw biker,” Marisol finishes my sentence.
“Right.” I cock my head and wait.
“Now you’re wondering how I know that, huh?”
