35
VICTOR
My heartbeat pounds in my ears as I pace the length of my apartment, checking my phone every thirty seconds like a lovesick teenager. I shouldn’t have texted him. I shouldn’t have gone to Eclipse. I shouldn’t have walked away.
I’ve done nothing but make mistakes with Theo.
The soft knock at my door stops me mid-stride. He came. After everything, he actually came.
I drag my hand across my face, take a deep breath, and open the door.
Theo stands in the hallway, backlit by the harsh fluorescent lighting. His eyes are guarded, arms crossed over his chest. The air between us feels charged with all the things we’ve never said.
We stare at each other, seconds stretching into what feels like hours. His jaw is tight, that familiar stubborn set to his chin. I drink in the sight of him—the messy curls I’ve run my hands through countless times, the full lips I’ve claimed in the dark.
“Was that payback?” The words scrape from my throat before I can stop them.
His eyebrows shoot up, a flash of anger replacing the careful neutrality of his expression.
“For what? For existing?” Theo shoots back. “For making you feel something you’re too scared to acknowledge?”
The truth in his words is so impactful. I step back, wordlessly inviting him inside rather than continuing this in the hallway where my neighbors might hear—exactly the problem that brought us here in the first place.
Theo hesitates, then steps past me into the apartment. His familiar scent—sandalwood and something uniquely him—washes over me as he passes. I have to clench my fists to keep from reaching for him.
The door clicks shut behind us. The silence stretches, dangerous and fragile, until it snaps.
“That guy at the club—” I start.
“Don’t.” Theo’s voice cuts through the air like a blade. “You don’t get to question who I talk to when you spent eight months pretending I don’t exist outside your bedroom.”
“I wasn’t pretending?—”
“No?” His laugh is bitter. “What would you call it then?”
The dam breaks. All the tension between us erupts at once.
“You want to own me in private but pretend I don’t exist in public. You want all of me but won’t give me anything real in return.” Theo’s voice rises, his eyes flashing with a hurt I’ve never seen before. “Do you have any idea what that feels like? To be someone’s dirty secret?”
“It’s not that simple!” I slam my palm against the wall. “You think this is just about me being ashamed? You have no idea what I’ve built, what I stand to lose.”
“Then explain it to me!” Theo throws his hands up. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like cowardice.”
“I came from nothing, Theo!” The words tear from my throat. “Nothing. No money, no connections, no safety net. Everything I have, I built with my bare hands. My reputation, my business—it’s all I have.”
I pace the floor, unable to look at him. “The fight world is... it’s not like your clubs. My investors, sponsors, fighters—they have expectations. I was afraid—” My voice catches. “I was afraid I’d lose everything I worked for.”
Theo stares at me, his expression unreadable. “So instead you decided to walk away from me. To lose me because… what? I’m expendable, inconsequential when compared to your business?”
The quiet devastation in his voice guts me. I can’t meet his eyes, focusing instead on the space between us—vast despite the few feet separating our bodies. My throat feels like sandpaper. Eight months of having this man in my life, in my bed, and I’ve never felt more exposed than I do now, fully clothed in my own living room.
“I didn’t want to lose you.” The words come out rough, barely audible. “I just—I didn’t know how to have you without risking everything else.”
Theo takes a step closer, his dark eyes searching mine. “Is that what you think this is? Some kind of transaction where you have to give up one thing to have another?”
I run my hand over my face, feeling the stubble rasp against my palm. “You don’t understand what it took to build what I have?—”
“I built my own empire from nothing,” he interrupts, that familiar fire flashing in his eyes. “From salvaged equipment when I was fifteen, remember? Don’t talk to me about building something from scratch.”
