Arranged love

“But nothing.” He stands and exits my office as fast as he entered, ending our conversation.

I lean back in my chair and stare at Emilee’s phone. Picking it up, I turn it back on and look over the home screen photo. It’s of her and Jasmine, and it looks recent. Jasmine recently dyed her hair red. I remember it being that color at Luca’s wedding. Back in college, it was bleach blond. Emilee’s wearing a smile, and her hair is flipped over to the side, a few strands covering her face. A shot of tequila in one hand, a mixed drink in another. She actually looks happy. Like she doesn’t have a care in the world. But I know differently. Her father is dead. She always was good at covering up her true feelings.

Going back to her recent text, I pull up the number and type it into my computer just to see if I can get an idea of who this guy is. Maybe a social media page or something.

And I’m quite surprised when I see it belongs to none other than the sorry bastard George Wilton.

What kind of deal could you possibly have with him, Em?

EMILEE

STANDING IN FRONT of thousands of people, I’m in a black sleeveless shirt that’s cropped, ending right below my boobs, and has an extremely low V cut in the front with a pair of black spandex booty shorts with a thick black belt that has a golden K on the front. I’ve worn bathing suits that cover more. My top keeps riding up and so does the fabric on my ass. Jasmine even sprayed hair spray on it and said it would help. Whatever the fuck that meant. Just made my skin sticky and itch.

She signed us up to be ring girls. Tonight, Kingdom is hosting a fight, and we’ve been walking around for the past two hours half-dressed and holding up cards to announce each round. Kingdom’s event center is over a hundred thousand square feet and holds around seventeen thousand guests. And the event has it at full capacity.

“How did you get this job again?” I ask her, sitting down next to her ringside. Some people would kill for these seats because we are so close, we can see the blood fly and smell the sweat.

“I know a guy who helps the Kings with the promotional side of things.”

“Know a guy? Or seeing a guy?”

She shrugs. “It’s nothing serious.” She dodges the question.

TV crews are all over the place, which she didn’t mention beforehand. It’s hot, and my tits and forehead are covered in sweat. The lights that shine down on the ring are unbearable. I should have worn less makeup because I can literally feel it melting off my face. And my clothes are sticking to my body. I’m praying my ass doesn’t have a wet spot.

The lights shut off, and the crowd screams so loud I cover my ears to try to block it out, but it does no good. When they come back on, they’re flashing, making it hard to see anything. Music begins to pound through the speakers.Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

“There he is,” Jasmine yells, nodding her head to the aisle while yanking on my arm to pull me to my feet.

A man bounces from foot to foot as he makes his way down the aisle to the center of the arena. Women reach for him. Men slap him on the shoulders. He wears a black silk robe tied loosely around his waist.

He walks up the stairs, then bends down to crawl into the ring between the ropes. He comes to a stop in the center and drops the robe. It’s Grave. I’m not surprised the guy fights.

He came by his name honestly. The guy always had a death wish. When he was fifteen, he ended up totaling Bones’s car while drag racing it. He was high and drunk, and Bones was so pissed. I will never forget the way he fucked me. Ruthlessly. I had bruises for days. And even after he was done with me, he was still raging. He wanted to beat the fuck out of his brother, but he didn’t touch him. I still don’t know what stopped him.

They call his opponent out from the other end of the event center, and the crowd boos him. Grave’s obviously a legend here at Kingdom. I have a feeling he’d have that kind of welcoming crowd even if he didn’t own a part of the casino.

“Does he fight often?” I ask her to wonder how he got around that legal battle. It has to be illegal for an owner to participate in such activities.

She nods, her starry eyes on Grave as he smiles at his opponent. “Every weekend.”

“I saw him last night.”

“What?” That gets her attention, and her green eyes slam to mine. “When? Where?”

“At Brentley’s. He was there with Titan.”

Her eyes widen. “Whoa.” She places her hands up. “You’re just now telling me this, why?”

I shrug. “Didn’t find it important.”

She places her hands on my shoulders and shakes me. “But-”

“He didn’t recognize me,” I interrupt her.

“Titan?”

“Oh, he recognized me.” I give a rough laugh. “The fucker took my phone.”

“What the fuck, Em?” she snaps and places her hands on her hips. “Why haven’t you told me all this?”

I look down at the white Nikes she made me wear, unable to meet her eyes. “I’ve been gone a long time. And I know you and him-”

“There’s nothing going on there,” she interrupts me. And then sighs. “I wish you would have told me. After this is over, we’re getting your phone back.”

The fight lasted two point five seconds. The guy swung at Grave and missed. Then Grave hit him-once-and he dropped to the ground like a dead body.

We pose for photos for the media crew members running around and with the men who had VIP tickets. They even asked us to sign shirts they purchased. One guy asked to take a selfie with me, said his business partner would hate himself for not coming to the fights. Whatever.

People start to exit the event center.

“Let’s go.” Jasmine grabs my arm and drags me up an aisle, pushing people out of our way.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“To get your shit back,” she growls.

I dig my heels into the floor. “Oh, no … it’s fine. I can get it later. Or buy another one …” Yeah, with what money, Emilee?

She walks into a tunnel and takes a right. People crowd around with their phones out still taking pictures. A few guys are dressed in three-piece suits and others casual in jeans and T-shirts. They all wear lanyards around their necks, giving them access back here.

One guy spots us and smiles. “Hey, ladies. What are you doing later?”

“Not you,” Jasmine replies with her nose up in the air.

Another guy steps in front of us, forcing us to a stop. “Hey, we’re headed to a party. The penthouse here at Kingdom. You two wanna join us?”

“No thanks,” I answer.

Jasmine snorts. “If we want to fuck you, we’d approach you. Move over, dipshit.” She shoves him out of the way and begins to drag me along again.