I raise my glass in a silent toast, letting my lips curl into the smile that drives him crazy.
Julian chuckles beside me. “And the game begins.”
Victor murmurs something to his companions, and they turn as one to look in my direction. I meet their curious glances withpracticed ease, taking another leisurely sip of my drink. Victor’s hand clenches and unclenches at his side before he straightens his shoulders and begins leading them toward our section.
“Julian,” Victor nods stiffly before his eyes reluctantly shift to mine. “I see you’ve brought a guest.”
“You know Theo,” Julian says smoothly.
Victor clears his throat. “This is Theo Winters, owner of Eclipse.” His voice stays professionally even, but his eyes dart away from mine. “Theo, these are potential investors interested in our expansion plans.”
“Gentlemen,” I extend my hand to each man in turn, holding eye contact a beat longer than necessary. “Eclipse just completed our third expansion last quarter—happy to share some insights on scaling while maintaining brand integrity.”
Victor shifts his weight imperceptibly. I can read his body like a book now—the way his breathing quickens when I speak, how his pupils dilate slightly despite his neutral expression.
“You run that nightclub downtown,” one investor says, impressed. “My daughter couldn’t stop talking about your New Year’s event.”
“We sold out in four minutes,” I reply, not looking at Victor though I feel his eyes on me. “Similar to how Victor’s fights sell out, though our clientele is...” I pause deliberately, “somewhat different.”
“Theo has built an impressive empire,” Victor acknowledges stiffly. A bead of sweat trails down his temple despite the cool air. “His business model is... unique.”
“I’d love to hear more about your fighter development program,” I tell the investors, leaning forward with genuine interest. “The right talent pipeline is everything in any industry.”
The conversation flows with surprising ease. These men speak my language—ROI, market penetration, brand loyalty—and I find myself genuinely engaged. Victor hovers at the edge ofour circle, interjecting occasionally but clearly unsettled by my presence in his domain.
One of the investors—Roberts, I think—claps Victor on the shoulder. “You didn’t mention you had connections to Eclipse. That’s a powerful alliance.”
Victor’s jaw tightens. “We run in some of the same circles.”
“More than circles,” Julian murmurs into his drink, audible only to me.
The lights dim, and a bell rings to signal the first match. Two fighters enter the ring, bodies gleaming under the harsh spotlights. I settle back, accepting another drink as Julian leans in to explain the fighters’ records.
Victor takes a seat across from us, his eyes constantly flicking to me despite his attempts to focus on the match. When the crowd roars at a particularly brutal takedown, I notice his gaze on my lips as I sip my whiskey.
Between the third and fourth matches, I excuse myself to find the restroom. The hallway behind the VIP section is poorly lit, industrial pipes running along the ceiling. I hear footsteps behind me, quick and determined.
Before I can turn, hands grip my shoulders, spinning me around and shoving me through a doorway. My back hits metal shelving as Victor kicks the door closed behind us.
A closet. Again.The metaphor writes itself.
“You know,” I say, glancing around at the cleaning supplies, “most men take me somewhere nicer.”
Victor’s breath comes fast, his body caging mine against the metal rack.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He’s trembling with fury or desire—probably both.
“Julian invited me.” I hold Victor’s gaze, refusing to look away. “Not that I need an invitation to attend a public event.”
“You shouldn’t be here.” Victor’s voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “Not like this, not with them watching.”
“Them? You mean your precious investors who might discover you spent months fucking a man?” The words taste bitter on my tongue. “God forbid anyone sees Victor Kaine within ten feet of me.”
“Where have you been?” His question catches me off guard. “A week, Theo. I texted. I called.”
“After I told you to leave? After you contemplated having dinner with your ex while keeping me hidden like something shameful?” I push against his chest, but he barely moves. “I’ve been exactly where I’ve always been. You’re the one hiding.”
“I’m trying to figure this out?—”
