Chapter 1
I play with my pen, spinning them in my hands. The letter I have sent to a Alex Brown just this morning seems to not have hooked her. Through the feed, I watch her–kick, punch and round-house one of those things we’ve had since this establishment started. I’ve decided to sponsor her, if no one else has claimed her.
Her braided hair–parted on both sides–bounce each time, and sweat clings to her body. And when she finally looks, directly at the camera, I smirk. Oh, she notices me, huh?
“Get her up here.... or drag her if you have to,” I command, still playing with the pen between my fingers.
And they obey. Good. Alex won't regret agreeing to my terms. I ran a hand through my long blonde hair, my dress–short but clings to all my curves is perfect. And the heels, red match my personality well.
Alex was not impressed to be here, as per her expression. She insults me a little but it doesn't cut me that deep. “You’ve got a lot of cameras for someone who claims to be looking for ’talent, she said, walking up and stopping a few feet from my desk, hands shoved into her pockets.
"Were you hoping for a man to sponsor you, love?" I asked, gesturing for her to sit.
She is silent, something brewing underneath. She doesn't sit either. “I wasn’t hoping for anything,” she replies. “I don’t hope. Hope is for people who think someone is coming to save them. And I don’t care if you’re a man, a woman, or the devil herself. A cage is a cage, and I’ve spent enough of my life behind bars to know when someone’s trying to hand me a new set.”
My lip was set in tightline, for a few minutes before I burst out laughing. And then I stop. "You are nothing without me or this establishment, Alex," I say, gesturing for my men to force her into the seat.
Her file, I've run through it a thousand times. I am aware of her past. "And sit, this information requires you to be sitting."
She resisted like coiled spring, catching his wrist, twisting it just enough–I don't care, because I always have replacements. I watch her do what she wants to him and his scream is music to my ears.
“Don’t,” she growled, her voice vibrating, bringing me deep pleasure. “I sit when I’m ready, not because some lapdog told me to.”
Looking at me, her eyes have this cold beauty to them. I have grown around men, and now I am about to be tied to one. And why was I attracted to her? Not even that, but a girl no less.
She pulls the chair out herself, the legs scraping against the marble floor. The way she sits, like she is a tomboy is something else. Usually I am not okay men doing that but her? Maybe I am... a little bit attracted.
“Now, stop playing with your pen and tell me what’s in that file that’s worth my time. Because if it’s just more talk about how you ‘own’ me, I’m going to walk out of here, and your men are going to need a lot more than red heels to fix what I do to them on the way out," she adds, eyeing my pen.
"I want to sponsor you," I say, letting the sentence be dragged out like a cigarette.
“You want to put your logo on my shorts so you can feel a thrill when I draw blood. You want to tell your friends you own the girl who came from the mud and lived," Alex replied just before leaning forward. And then the words I wasn't expecting flowed right out of her.
“Tell me what’s in the folder. The real reason you tracked me down. Because I know it’s not just about the fights. What could it be then?"
I don't answer her but I gesture for them to lock the doors, just before getting up from my chair. Now standing in front of her, my back against my custom made desk. "There were some.... photos circulating around... and with the right sources your career will be ruined, no one will take you, no job will hire you, Alex," I reply, tapping the pen right on my chin.
"You think some blurry shots of a girl fighting for a meal in a basement are enough to scare me? I’ve had my face pressed into the dirt by people a lot scarier than you, Boss.”
"Monica Moretti, darling... and let's say it's lot more incriminating than... what you think it is."
My phone lights up with a message from my fiancee just as she says, “You’re not looking for a fighter to sponsor."
She reached out, not for my hand but to the folder sitting there. I grip her hand, halting her from taking it for herself. Her eyes lock onto mine.
“Show me. Let’s see how much you think my soul is worth.”
If she thinks for a second I'll tell her about what's in the file, she has gotten Monica wrong. Blood covered, standing over a dead body. The only reason I haven't spread this to other places is because, I need a little bit of leverage.
