“I can’t tell you why,” Anderson said plainly, “The second I laid eyes on you, it was like something shifted for me. It’s like it was inevitable, my finding you. I’m not in the habit of letting golden opportunities slip away. I’m not a conventional man with a conventional life, but when something is important to me, I want to protect it in every way I can. You’re important to me. You were, instantly. And I want to protect you. So, what do you say?”
“I say...OK,” I told him, “I’ll give it a shot. We’ll just...see what happens. There’s nothing holding me back to my old life. To tell you the truth, I was kind of getting sick of it.”
“Good,” he grinned, “That’s what I was hoping you’d say. If you’d said no, I would have had to take away your bacon.”
“Perish the thought, Shatter Man” I said, taking another bite.
We lapsed into happy silence, filling our bellies with food and our eyes with each other. I felt light, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from me. I was free of everything that had been holding me back, but there was a dark fear lurking at the edges of my mind. This world wasn’t just breakfast and pillow talk. From what Anderson had told me, it was extremely dangerous, sometimes deadly. But I had the best protection in the world—my hero, my savior, Anderson Cole. And though every rational bone in my body was warning me to flee, I decided to listen to my heart, my body. I decided to take a chance.
Chapter Six
I spent the next week floating through the new world I’d stumbled into as if in a dream. Once I made the decision to trust Anderson Cole, to commit myself to being a part of his unpredictable life, a feeling of weightlessness carried me through the days. In less than a week, my life had been utterly transformed. I’d gone from being a penniless, depressed barista to a pampered, carefree ultimate fighting enthusiast and personal assistant. Anderson had punched out my horrible boss, paid off the rest of my rent for the year, and gave me a key to his amazing penthouse apartment.
Once I had agreed to our sudden collaboration, I started to learn more and more about his peculiar and sensational life. Anderson Cole did not have a day job, he didn’t need one. He did not have any care in the world beyond his fighting career. With Robert Hunt’s help, Anderson had been able to make an entire livelihood out of his fighting expertise and physical prowess. He was paid unspeakable sums of money to appear in the exclusive underground fighting ring, and Robert invested that money very wisely.
Technically speaking, Anderson still depended on Robert to handle his finances. But the money itself, Anderson earned with his unbelievable skill in the ring. The underground fighting consortium convened once a week, I soon learned. Once a week, twenty fighters paired up and faced off. If a fighter should win, he would be allowed back the next week. If he should lose, however, he would have to start at the bottom and work his way back up by fighting in satellite matches in affiliate circles. Anderson had been among the first twenty fighters to appear in that ring, and of those original twenty, he was the only one who still remained.
The popularity of the league had skyrocketed over its five years of existence. Some of the wealthiest, most powerful people in the city—in the world—attended the exclusive matches. Corrupt politicians, crooked cops, celebrities, socialites; every realm of influence was represented among the people who came to watch Anderson fight. All of this, Anderson told me proudly. What he couldn’t tell me for certain was who arranged the fights, or who organized the entire affair. I was surprised to learn that Anderson was clueless about how the league had started and who was in charge.
“I just show up and fight,” he told me, “The money goes to Robert, then to my accounts and investments. I don’t need to know the details.”
Though I was baffled by the fact that no one seemed to know who was in charge of these fights, the mystery rather added to the allure. There was something deliciously dangerous about an arena of self-governing ultra-powerful people convening for the sole purpose of watching visceral and brutal displays of physical violence. I’d expected the world of underground fighting to be dirty, sweaty, and vaguely nauseating. I had been so wrong to think so.
Anderson’s world was more glamorous than I could have possibly imagined. When I looked back on the night I spent beside the ring, it seemed like something out of a movie. From the gorgeous men and women in fine designer clothing to the impeccably lush decor to the fine burn of expensive booze as it had cascaded down my throat, the whole experience had been spectacular. When I thought about that night, I found myself getting turned on. I was aroused by the mere memory of watching Anderson fly through that ring, he was a force of nature.
In the week leading up to the next match, that same arousal was met and satisfied again and again. I was insatiable for this fighter who had saved my life, taken me by the hand and led me into a world beyond the reaches of my wildest imagination. If my hands left his body for more than a moment or two, I could feel a wonderful ache begin to creep through me. I was addicted to him, constantly needing to be with him, to feel him around me, inside of me.
Thankfully, my insatiable hunger was never left unmet for long. One of the best aspects of Anderson’s life was the fact that, during the week leading up to a fight, he had no responsibilities besides a bit of maintenance. He hit the gym for three hours a day, no question, but apart from that stretch of time, he was all mine. We barely left the apartment during that first week. Every moment he was home with me was pure bliss. Not a surface of that abode was safe from our feverish lovemaking. I’d never been so satisfied, so overwhelmed with sensation.
What was so incredible about making love to Anderson, among many other things, was the fact that he got turned on my pleasing me. He would lay me out before him, run those strong hands over my body, and watch as my every cell responded to him in the most glorious ways. He touched in me in ways I didn’t even know were possible, and my body reacted to him as if on command. As I came again and again for him, he would become more and more aroused. Finally, when he could no longer stand it, we would reunite in ecstatic bliss.
Between the near constant sex, the utter luxury and comfort of Anderson’s home, and the incessant flow of fine liquor and delectable food, it was no wonder that I felt blissfully high all day, every day. How could such a carefree, satisfying life be sustainable like this? Was the rug about to get pulled out from under me? Such fears would cross my mind like storm clouds through the blue sky once in a while, but I quickly dispersed them. I was determined not to question my good fortune. The last thing I wanted to do was worry my happiness away.
But as hard as I tried to keep the cloying dark thoughts at bay, there was one matter that refused to leave me be. When I thought back to the night of the fight, I kept picturing those bright, seething eyes of Robert Hunt. He’d been so kind to me upon my arrival. As soon as we met, he had been the perfect gentleman and escort. But at some point in the course of the evening, all that kindness had seemed to evaporate. Out of nowhere, he began to treat me like scum on the bottom of his expensive loafer.
I couldn’t account for the sudden change in his demeanor. I thought, at first, that he might be upset with Anderson’s choice in companions. But that wouldn’t make any sense. If he’d simply been displeased with me upon meeting me for the first time, surely he would have made his disapproval known right then and there. Robert Hunt didn’t strike me as the sort of man who kept his opinions to himself. Maybe I had offended him during the course of the fight. Maybe I’d asked too many questions or proven to be a pest. Maybe if I just apologized to him, everything would be righted again.
Though troubled thoughts about Robert continued to plague me, I couldn’t keep my excitement at bay as the next match drew ever nearer. I couldn’t wait to be whisked away to that secret underground ring, to be back among the electric joy of human experience. This time, I wouldn’t be an outsider anymore. When Anderson and I had left together the week before, whispers had followed us out. With a week’s worth of gossip at work, I had a feel
ing that the crowd wouldn’t treat Anderson Cole’s main squeeze as the odd girl out. I felt like royalty, in Anderson’s company—like I was free to go about wherever and however I pleased, and I felt safe.
And it wasn’t just at the ring that I felt a new boost of confidence. During our very few trips outside of the apartment that week, I’d basked in Anderson’s glow. He had insisted that we get me a new wardrobe and whatever else would make me feel at home in his apartment. We strolled through the city arm in arm, and I watched a thousand eyes alight upon my man. And even though gorgeous women, and quite a few gorgeous men, stared lustily at Anderson as we made our way through the streets, I never once felt jealous. After all, I was the one he’d chosen to be with. Plain old me. I didn’t feel defeated by the fact that everyone was in love with Anderson, I felt empowered by it. I was like the moon to his sun, illuminated by the pure, celestial light of his spirit. I’d never felt more confident in my entire life. And I certainly never felt sexier than when Anderson would turn his desirous attention toward me.
The morning of the next match dawned bright and crisp. I woke light, as I’d taken to doing, and noticed with a little jab of disappointment that Anderson had already headed to the gym. He was usually awake hours before I was, and though I longed to greet the day wrapped up in his powerful arms, I understood his commitment to staying in shape. He liked to hit the gym first thing in the morning so that the rest of the day could be devoted to me. Waking up alone was a small price to pay for a day of glorious attention.
I rolled out from under the plush white comforter and padded toward the kitchen. A wonderfully savory smell greeted me as I made my way through the apartment, leading me by the nose. When I made my way into the kitchen, I let out a little sigh of joy. Sitting on the stove was a plate piled high with freshly-baked croissants. As I looked closer, I spotted a little note that simply read, “From A”. This man could seriously not be any more of a godsend if he rode around in a winged chariot, pulling the sun across the sky.
With a warm glow of satisfaction radiating out from my very core, I snatched up a buttery pastry and made myself some coffee. The early afternoon sun was splayed out across the kitchen floor, dappling the tiles. Being a kept woman was definitely not what I had envisioned when I first moved to New York, but I couldn’t deny that I was enjoying the ride. I perched on a stool before the kitchen counter and noticed that the morning paper had been left open. I glanced absentmindedly toward the publication as I nibbled on the flaky croissant. As I was skimming the front page, a tiny headline in the bottom right corner caught my eye.
“Illegal Fighting Ring Linked Back to Mob Boss,” the paper read. My curiosity was understandably piqued. I leaned over the newspaper, my eyes scrambled to take in as much information as they could. “The New York City Police Chief reports today that the infamous underground fighting rings in town might have one important thing in common: they’re all being bank rolled by one high-ranking member of the Mob.”
I gaped at the page, alarmed to see even see talk of underground fighting in such a mainstream newspaper. This wasn’t a tabloid, but a highly respected news outlet. And the fact that the fighting rings were being mentioned in the same breath as the Mob? Not exactly what I wanted to be hearing about first thing in the morning. It was one thing for Anderson to be competing in a dangerous, cut throat league. If the Mob was really involved, that was a whole other story in my book. For the first time, I felt uneasy about my involvement in this world. More so, I found myself worried for Anderson’s sake.
As if he’d known that my thoughts had strayed once more to him, Anderson happened to arrive home at that very instant. I heard the elevator car slide up to our floor, listened as the doors slid open and a key was fitted into the front door lock.
“Hello?” Anderson called from the elevator door, “Kaela, are you awake?”
“In here,” I replied, my voice tight.
Anderson rounded the corner into the kitchen with a big smile plastered onto his face. Despite my new batch of worries, a surge of desire rushed through me as I took in the sight of him. His face was flushed, his hair tousled and just a little sweaty. He was clad in his workout outfit, with sinfully tight-fitted shorts. I longed to peel those layers right off his amazing body and taste the saltiness of his skin. His muscles were swollen and rippling after his workout, and his eyes danced in anticipation of the fight later that evening.
“I love coming home to find you here,” he said, coming towards me, “Especially when you’ve got nothing but one of my tee shirts on.”
My body responded to his every word, and I could feel my nipples getting hard under the thin cotton of my makeshift pajamas. I shook off the sudden surge of desire long enough to point to the newspaper on the counter.
“Did you see this?” I asked.
He peered down at the front page and took in what was printed there. He rolled his eyes and let out a groan. “Kaela,” he said, “I don’t want you worrying about this kind of thing. It’s nothing. Nothing but media trash.”
“They quote the New York City police chief,” I said pointedly, refusing to let the matter drop, “That doesn’t sound like nothing to me.”
“People have been speculating about the leagues like crazy for years,” he told me.
“But Anderson,” I said, “You’ve told me that you don’t have any idea who runs the operation over there. Could it be that—?”
“Hey,” Anderson said, taking my hands in his, “Don’t worry about it, OK? Whatever goes on at the top has got nothing to do with us. Why sweat it?”
“I just...Don’t want anything bad to happen to you,” I said quietly, taking back my hands. “I mean, they’re saying that what you guys do is illegal!” Anderson was quiet for a long moment. I left my heart beat begin to pick up. “Anderson,” I said slowly, “You’re not...The league isn’t doing anything...illegal, is it?”
He straightened up, looking away from me. The answer to my question was written all over his face. “I thought you would have just assumed...” he said finally.
“Assumed what?” I asked, standing up to face him. “What I assumed was that the league was top secret. Exclusive. I didn’t think that it was anything illegal.”
“It’s not necessarily illegal,” Anderson said haltingly, “It’s just not...purely legal, either.”
“Right,” I said, “Huge distinction there. Thanks for clearing it up.”
“It’s like this,” Anderson said, “What we’re doing is not inherently bad. Right? But if we were to get permission from whatever governing body, there might be unnecessary restrictions put on us. A bunch of bureaucratic nonsense and red tape. We just don’t want to deal with any of it.”
“Who’s ‘we’?” I asked, “I thought you just showed up to fight?”
“Well, yeah,” he said, “That’s all I mean.”
“I don’t know, Anderson,” I said, “I don’t know how I feel about all of this.”
A pained looked crossed his sharp features. “Kaela,” he said, “If you’re having second thoughts about all this—”
“It’s not that,” I said quickly, going to him and laying my hands on his firm chest, “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. I’ve never been more sure of anyone than I am of you. I just got scared is all. This is all so new to me.”
“I know,” he said, pulling me close and wrapping his arms around me, “It’s no wonder that you’re a little overwhelmed. It’s a lot to take in.”
“Tell me about it,” I laughed.
“I promise you, Kaela, I won’t let anything happen to you. As long as we’re together, you’ll never get hurt. No matter what, I will protect you.”
I looked up into his deep, dark eyes and knew that I could trust him implicitly. “OK,” I said.
“OK,” said Anderson, giving me a squeeze, “I’m going to go wash off.”
“Sounds good,” I said, keeping my arms firmly around his waist. Our sudden closeness had sparked a blaze of desire
inside of me. Anderson looked down at me, read the need in my steady gaze. A slow smile spread across his lips as he caught my meaning.
“You look like you could use a scrubbing down as well,” he said, letting his hands travel down to my ass, “It looks like you’re mind has gotten even dirtier.”
“You might say that,” I said, my voice low and lusty. I took a step back from Anderson, noting with mounting desire the bulge in his tight workout shorts. Meeting his gaze, I grabbed onto the hem of his tee shirt and pulled the garment up over my head. I tossed the shirt aside and stood before him, utterly naked. His eyes raked over my bare skin, lingering on my ample breasts, the dip of my waist, the throbbing, hot place between my legs that was begging for his attention.
“You’d better get yourself into the shower,” he growled, tugging off his sweatshirt, “Or else I’ll have to take you right here on the kitchen floor.”
I let out a little yelp and bolted from the kitchen, sprinting through the apartment with not a stitch of clothing on my body. My hair flew out behind me as I tore through the living room, Anderson’s heavy footfalls echoing behind me. I loved the thrill of the chase—especially when I knew what awaited me on the other side. I pivoted through the master bedroom door and raced into the bathroom, flipping on the hot water just as Anderson burst through the door behind me.
In a moment, I felt my body sailing through the air as Anderson grabbed me by the hips and hoisted up onto the bathroom counter. I shivered as my bare ass hit the cold marble. Anderson spread open my legs and stepped between them. He’d discarded every article of clothing save for a pair of black boxer briefs. I could feel his staggering erection through the thin material. I let out a moan as the hard length of him pressed against me, exactly where I wanted to feel it most. Anderson lowered his lips to my neck, kissing me deeply. I groaned as his lips caressed my sensitive skin, and wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders. The entire bathroom was covered in mirrors, and I caught sight of us across the room. The image of Anderson pressing himself between my parted legs made my head spin. The muscles of his back were rippling gorgeously as he covered me in deep, insistent kisses.
Shattered (A Bad Boy Romance Novel) Page 7
