Leaving the bloody mess on the floor of the ring, I duck between the ropes and step down onto the concrete ground. Blood drips from my battered knuckles as I walk down the aisle, passing the rows of spectators and slip through the back door.
The vast locker room is empty when I step inside. Whoever owns the property put a great deal of time and money into the design of the arena. The entire building is intricately detailed and tailored for the crowd that it hosts.
Even though we’re all expendable when it really comes down to it, most of us are well taken care of. The locker room is one of the perks that comes with fucking with the wealthy and their dirty money.
We have our own space to wind down and clean up afterward. Although we don’t mingle after the fight unless we’re invited, there’s still a strict code for having a clean appearance leaving here.
It’s a private and exclusive event and the last thing that the owners want is to be tipped off by the police. I follow their code and abide by their rules for the pure sake of fighting. I couldn’t give a shit about the logistics. The only thing that matters is the money and the fight.
Grabbing my street clothes from my locker, I head to the bathroom for a shower. The water in my apartment is easily comparable but sharing a place with Rush makes for a lot of awkward shower moments. I’ve seen his dick more times than I’d care to share, and he’s got a different girl in there every night.
With my body clean of the last of the dried blood, I slip out of the shower and quickly get dried and dressed. Glancing down at my swollen knuckles, I take note of the new scabs and the questions they may draw.
An older man dressed in a freshly pressed suit sits on one of the plush benches against the wall as I walk back into the locker room. A young, thin blonde sits next to him, hanging onto his arm. He smirks as I scowl at him and continue to walk past him. Ignoring him, I head to the medical area and grab a roll of gauze and begin wrapping it around my bruised knuckles.
“I heard that you were a hard ass, but that may be an understatement,” the man chuckles from across the room. “I also heard how no one can seem to lock you down.”
I respond with a grunt and roll my eyes as I finish covering my wounds.
Here we go again with another rich bastard who thinks that I can be bought.
“The strong, silent type too,” the man muses as he rises to his feet. “I can appreciate that.”
Appreciating and understanding are two different things. He clearly doesn’t know the meaning of silent.
Turning to face him, I cut my eyes at him as he strides across the room to me. Stopping in front of me, he’s about my height and his frigid blue eyes meet mine. He’s lean and muscular like an athlete, where I’m trimmed and toned like the ruthless fighter that I am.
Challenging him with my eyes, I continue to glare at him as I remain silent.
A sly grin forms on the man’s lips as he nods. “Very well then.” Reaching inside his suit jacket, he grabs a business card and hands it to me. Reluctantly, I grab it and quickly read over it.
Astor Medical Supplies
Jasper Lafar, MD
CEO
Cardiothoracic surgeon
202-555-4422
“13 Waters Edge Drive. Come by tomorrow around noon.” Jasper straightens his suit jacket and motions for the blonde to come over to him. “I can assure you that I have an offer that only a fool would turn down.”
You and every other man who comes to these fights.
With a curt nod, I tuck the business card in my back pocket. The blonde walks over and attaches herself back to Jasper’s arm.
“I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, Axel,” he says with a smirk and turns away, pulling the girl out of the room with him.
I wait a few minutes, letting his words soak in before I head out. Rush is outside waiting for me in his pristine Bentley coupe, like he does after every fight.
We’ve been best friends since we ended up in the group home together. When Rush turned eighteen, he found out that his biological family, who were all dead, left him a large sum of money.
That was six years ago and he’s nowhere close to the bottom of that barrel.
“Dude.” Rush turns toward me as I hop into the car. “What the fuck took you so long? I had to blow off Amy or Audrey, or whatever the fuck her name is, tonight.”
As if pussy isn’t on his daily agenda…
“I think you can go a day without getting your dick wet,” I mumble as I shake my head. “I got caught up with some shit.”
Rush gives me a sideways glance before backing his car out of his parking spot. “Do I even wanna know?”
I shrug. “It wasn’t anything important.”
Rush rolls his eyes. “Sure. It wasn’t important enough to make your knuckles bleed, right?”
Glancing down, I notice my clenched fists and the blood soaking the gauze wrapped around my hands. I must have broken open the newly formed scabs.
“Fuck me.”
“Hard pass.” Rush smirks. “I’m sure we can find someone who will though.”
Rolling my eyes, I settle down into my seat as Rush turns up the stereo and pulls onto the road.
Jasper’s card burns a hole in my back pocket and his address rings in my head.
Many of the men there have fighters on their payroll that they pay to fight for them. I’ve only ever fought for myself and although I’ve been approached before in the past, I never considered fighting for someone else until this moment.
The men there are sharks and I don’t know a single thing about this man. For the right price, there’s a chance that none of that will matter.
For the right price, anything can be bought, and his fortune might be the key to my ascension.
Fighting for him might be my last chance at success.
Chapter Two
Jaslyn
WATER DRIPS from my body as I climb out of the pool and walk over to the lounge chair. Pulling my long black hair to the side, I let it fall around my head as I lie down on my stomach. The hot sun beats down on my bare skin, enhancing my natural tan.
At twenty-three, a life like this is one to be envied. My father built an empire and made a fortune that left me set for life. I’ve never wanted for anything and I never will… financially and materialistically, at least.
My father was a world-renowned heart surgeon, but his empire was built off the artificial heart valves he designed. When he got sick and passed away last year, I found myself as the proud owner of Astor Medical Devices and the ruler of his multi-million-dollar empire.
Jasper was my father’s right-hand man and now he has a ring on my left hand, with the other one deep in my pocket.
He was there for me when my father passed away. He helped me get all his affairs in order and then he manipulated me when I was vulnerable.
I was young and dumb and thought he was genuine, but he proved me wrong. He stripped me of everyone and everything in my life.
And now, at twenty-three, I’m engaged to a monster that keeps me secluded from the rest of the world.
I would give it all up in a heartbeat if it meant that I got to live. Because lying here like a battered trophy wife isn’t living. It’s not even surviving. It’s merely existing.
My father would be devastated if he could see how everything fell apart after he died. It wasn’t his fault, just like it wasn’t his fault when my mother died. She had a heart defect that they didn’t know about until after I was born and after it was too late. As a heart surgeon, it ate away at my father until the moment he took his last breath. But the empire that he built, that was all for her and all in her name.