“Till the day I die,” he chuckles.
Groaning louder, I pull the cover over my face. “We will never speak of that again.”
He laughs with a deep chest laugh that makes him groan too; his ribs probably hurt even more now.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine. Bea?” His voice is soft and gentle. “Rebecca’s not what you think.”
“I’ve figured that by now. Your super long lunch was a tangle, just not between the sheets,” I say, feeling rather stupid. “But this morning, when you came in looking so cheerful, I thought?—”
“Satisfied. Now cheerful.” His voice carries a note of amusement. “Maybe I should go back to the ring tomorrow.”
“No freaking way, Noah King!” I cry out, pushing up on my elbow and pointing my finger at him. “Don’t you dare go back to that place.”
He lets out another chuckle, but softer this time. “You are very bossy.”
“I know, but you like that.” That gets a lowhmmfrom him. “So what did you forget at Rebecca’s place?” I didn’t want to ask because he’s not a member of a sex club as it turns out, but she said ‘at her place,’ and I don’t think I can sleep another night without knowing what she meant.
“Rebecca is a bookie for the fight club,” he replies without hesitation, “and she called me because I forgot the money.”
“You won?”
“Of course I did.” He sounds almost offended.
“What do you even need the money for?”
“I don’t.” He’s quiet. “But it’s part of the deal. Not everyone is there to relieve the pressure. Some use it for a quick buck. Some like the feel of a bet.”
“And you?”
He’s silent for a bit before finally replying. “I like the pain. It gives me control.”
This doesn’t make me feel any better. It’s not a healthy habit to have.
He doesn’t let me wallow in my doubts because his next words surprise me. “I don’t keep the money though.”
“What do you do with it? Give it to the poor?” I half joke.
“Yeah.” He sounds almost shy. “I double it to Maeve’s charity; they can always use the extra cash.” His voice drops to nearly a whisper. “And it justifies my actions a little.”
Now that makes sense. He does something bad and then tries to make up for it by doing something better.
“Then why were you mad when she called? I thought it was because you didn’t want your lover calling you at work. You know, after the Amanda disaster.”
“Because she called me at work. Every single one of us there prefers to keep our lives separate from the ring.” The light from the window illuminates a twitching muscle under his stubble. “She should know better than to do that. The majority of us fight to relieve stress or fight our internal demons, and none of us wants that to follow us back to our lives. It defeats the purpose.”
His jaw sets after he finishes talking, and I let us lie in silence, each in our own thoughts.
“Why doyougo there?” I whisper. “I’ve been working for you for weeks and haven’t noticed any of this before.”
“I don’t. I didn’t.” He lets out a tiny huff of air, as if he wants to laugh but can’t find the humor in it. “I used to be a regular there but stopped a few months ago when it started interferingwith my work.” His jaw twitches as he stares at the ceiling, most likely trying to teleport himself from this conversation.
I scoot a little closer so I can hear him better, even though a few more inches and I’d have to climb on top of him. Which doesn’t sound like a bad idea if I’m being honest with myself.
“Why did you start? I mean, again. Why did you start again?”
He sighs, a long, ragged sound, before he finally turns his head to meet my eyes. His are so dark in the low light, they’re nearly black, and it’s hard to get a read on him. “I was trying to forget.”
