“I thought I was the whore,” the asshole responds with a smirk. “And don’t worry. I’m not going to lose.”
“How do you know that?” I shriek. Malcolm may be tough, but Fiasco has a very noticeable size advantage on him.
“Just trust me, honey,” he mutters, more concerned with his cigarette than my fury.
“And if you’re wrong? What then?” I ask him as I spin around, looking for something to cover up the rest of my body since I refuse to put the piece of shredded dress back on. I finally find Malcolm’s discarded shirt I had on last night. “Am I supposed to just leave your bed for his? How could you do this to me?”
“Fiasco had a point,” he answers coolly with smoke blowing from his nose like an angry dragon. “The debt you owe is to the MC. A fight seemed the fairest way to decide who you repay for two weeks.”
“You could’ve just told him no, that you wouldn’t give me up!” I shout at him.
“If I made an exception for you, everything else I do while I’m in charge will be seen as partial. I can’t afford to lose the trust of my brothers, or the entire MC will fall apart.”
He can’t be serious! Keeping his precious authority is more important than I am to him?
“Oh, so you would rather just let your MC brother have me without even bothering to ask me what I wanted?” I huff.
“You’ve already sucked his dick, so it’s not like it’ll be all new territory.”
Unable to deal with this conversation or revelation for another second, I stalk to the bathroom, telling him, “You’re a dick, Malcolm!” before I slam the door and lock it.
“Does that mean I won’t see you at the fight tonight?” the jackass has the nerve to yell through the door.
I just can’t even with this man!
Who does he think he is, giving me away like I’m not a person with actual feelings? Yes, I’m guilty of stealing from him, and I do wish there had been any other option, but there wasn’t! And maybe I also stupidly thought that Malcolm had a soft spot for me, when really, he’s just an evil, horny bastard who cares more about his reputation than me, an actual woman.
Malcolm
* * *
It’s probably for the best that Naomi doesn’t want to come to the fight tonight. Seeing her ringside would be a distraction I sure as fuck don’t need.
Do I think I can beat Fiasco?
Hell yes.
But there is no denying that the jackass has at least twenty pounds on me and a few inches of arm reach. I’ll just have to be the smarter fighter, which should be easy since Fiasco’s an idiot who makes terrible fucking decisions on a regular basis. I swear he treats being a dumbass like it’s his job.
If he hadn’t hired Naomi in exchange for a blowjob, she wouldn’t have stolen from us, and I wouldn’t have developed an unhealthy obsession with her. One that is now affecting how I run shit as president.
It’s too damn early to even be up this morning; but as soon as Naomi grabbed my dick, I went from sound asleep to wide the fuck awake.
Of course I wanted her to jerk it, suck it, ride it, any or all of the above, but most fighters swear that abstaining right before a fight is key to keeping their edge. And I’m going to need every advantage I can get.
Chapter Thirteen
Naomi
* * *
“How did you do it?” Anika asks me in the employee lounge as soon as we board the boat.
“What?”
“How did you do it? How did you get Malcolm to fuck you? You’re not even that hot.”
Wow. Jealous much?
“It’s really none of your business or anyone else’s,” I tell her, even though I have no idea who told her. Maybe no one had to after the romp we had in his office…
“He’s fighting Fiasco for her tonight,” Ronnie interjects when she comes out of the bathroom, having apparently heard our conversation through the door.
“Bullshit!” Anika exclaims.
“It’s true. I heard some of the guys talking about it in the bar last night,” Ronnie answers.
“For her? What do you mean for her?” Anika repeats with a jab of her thumb in my direction.
“Whoever wins gets to have her,” Ronnie explains.
“Sounds like you’re both just jealous,” Chloe, the normally quiet weekend only waitress, says to them.
“I’m not jealous,” Ronnie remarks. “They’re treating her like she’s property they can pass around. Probably will too. Malcolm’s only interested in her because, as the club’s president, he can’t afford to look like a loser. She’s not that special. It’s nothing but a testosterone-fueled pissing contest.”
“Two grown-ass men are going to fist fight each other for her when they could both have any other girl they wanted with just the snap of their fingers,” Chloe remarks. “Including you two. Like it or not, Naomi is obviously special to have two hot men go to such extremes.”
I mouth a thank you to the only woman sticking up for me, and Chloe gives me a wink before she saunters back onto the casino floor. Neither of the other women say another word after she’s gone either.
But Ronnie is right. I don’t feel special. I feel like an object, a toy that Malcolm and Fiasco are arguing over only because the other one has been with me. They don’t care about my thoughts or feelings on the issue. All they’re thinking with is their possessive dicks, which is incredibly immature.
It would serve Malcolm right to get his ass kicked. God, I bet the Dirty Aces president would be so embarrassed if Fiasco knocked him out in front of everyone.
Still, for some stupid reason, I want Malcolm to win.
Malcolm
* * *
“You ready for tonight?” Nash comes into my office on the boat and asks around midnight.
“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t,” I remark.
“This girl has got you twisted, prez,” he says with a shake of his head.
“I’m fighting to make a point, not for her. Besides, you’re one to talk about being twisted over a girl. Do you even let yourself look at other women, or are you afraid Ellie would consider that cheating if she were to ever find out?”
“That’s different,” he says. “She’s my wife. I still have an obligation to her.”
“Don’t you think it’s time to file for divorce?” I ask him. “She’s been gone for years.”
“Sort of hard to send her papers if I don’t know where the fuck she is,” he grumbles.
“Have you hired a PI?” When he doesn’t answer my question, I assume he hasn’t. He’s afraid of what he’ll find her doing if and when he locates her. His wife has no doubt moved on, regardless of their legal status.
“Right now we’re talking about you acting like a dumbass for a woman, not me,” Nash huffs to change the subject.
“It is what it is with Naomi,” I tell him. “I happen to like fucking her, and you know how I feel about sharing – I don’t.”