Forever Branded (Billionaire Love Series #1) (25 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Beau:

It had been six months since my last fight and I was ready to get back into the ring. Nothin’ like a little combat to make me feel alive, as I pitted my skills against another man’s.

I always came into a fight prepared, which meant knowing my opponent’s weaknesses. Nick Brown’s ground game was good, but not great. He had one or two submissions I needed to watch out for. His boxing was mediocre, but he was stubborn and would go the distance.

Still, it was a chess match.

His move.

My move.

But I don’t really think in a fight.

It’s all about muscle memory, instinct and survival. I rely on my body to do what I’ve trained it to do. At the same time, I have to keep my wits about me. It was crucial to control my adrenaline and my movements, two keys to winning any fight.

I came out aggressively in the first round, setting a punishing pace as I fought my opponent. He covered up as I punched and jabbed, but I didn’t give him an inch to breathe. I couldn’t let him get close and take me down where he could beat me. My jujitsu had improved, but it still wasn’t my best tool.

I controlled the stand up game. He couldn’t get inside and I picked him apart with kicks to his legs along with some unexpected punches. He managed one takedown, but I broke his hold and got to my feet before he could pounce.

The first round ended as I threw a roundhouse kick at his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. I left him leaning against the fence, starving for air as I went to my corner.

“Spit!” Ibrahima demanded as I sat on the stool, drinking water.

I obliged as he mopped my forehead with a cool sponge, sweat trickling down my back. My adrenaline was running hot, nothing hurt yet, but I would feel it the next day.

“You’re doing great,” he said, checking my face for wounds. “How are you feeling?”

“Good, I’ve got him where I want him,” I said, trying to catch my breath.

“Your pace is great. He can’t keep up with you. Look for him to try to take you out with a submission in the next round.”

“Not gonna happen,” I said as I caught a streak of red making its way to the cage.

I tracked it as Ibrahima continued to give me strategy. “You can take him. His left arm is weak. You’ve got to get in there with your right hook and mess him up.”

I nodded, my attention focusing on the vision in red pushing her way to the front of the cage.

Marla was gorgeous.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

She was dressed head to toe in designer goods. I’d personally picked out everything she was wearing, from the diamond choker snug against her delicate throat to the hot dress hugging her curves.

She locked eyes with me, staring at me like no one else was in the room.

Hunger.

Heat.

Tenderness.

God, she sucked me in, her red dress striking against the harshness of the black fence. I tried to focus on the strategy Ibrahima was laying out, but it was no use with her staring at me.

She was jostled by the rowdy crowd, but her gaze never wavered. Her bright glance reminded me what it was like when we were in high school, just figuring out our feelings for one another.

I had no reason to see Marla anymore after my paper was done, but I went out of my way to walk by her locker, just hoping to catch a glimpse of her sweet profile. One afternoon, I found her right after fifth period, hunched over her locker, her shoulders shaking. I could tell she was upset, so I stopped to check on her.

“Hey, Sunshine,” I said as I leaned against the locker next to hers.

She glanced at me with a tear-streaked face. “Hey,” she answered sadly.

“What’s wrong?”

“My necklace broke.” She held out her hand, a silver chain hanging limply off the side of her palm.

The necklace was in two parts, the chain busted.

I ran my hand over her clenched one. “Can I see it?”

“Sure.”

Containing a locket, it was simple silver rectangle with a chorded border.

“May I?” I asked, indicating I wanted to open it.

“Sure.” She shrugged as I popped the locket open.

Inside was a picture of Marla as a young girl on one side and her mom in all her glory on the other. They shared the same eyes and stunning smile.

“Your mom was beautiful. Now I see where you get your beauty,” I said, hoping to cheer her up.

“You think I’m beautiful?” she asked in a hushed voice.

I stared into her big, brown doe eyes brimming with vulnerability. “Yeah. The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Her cheeks flushed brightly as we stared at one another, lost in something that threatened to blow up in my chest.

“You’ve got to come out hard, Beau!” Ibrahima shouted, above the roar of the crowd as reality crashed down on me.

I shook my head, trying to return my attention to the fight at hand. This was not the fuckin’ time to lose my mind, especially over the woman I was trying to punish. I focused on Ibrahima’s fiery stare as he slapped me on the shoulder.

“Now go get him!” he yelled as he handed me my mouth guard.

I shot up, ready to go.

Nothing was gonna stop me now.

This guy was going down.

I crashed my fists together and came out with a bang as the bell rang for the second round. We circled each other as we went toe to toe.

Faking him out, I waved my hands back and forth to distract him from blocking the roundabout kick I threw at his chest, which sent him backwards into the fence.

I shot forward, pounding my opponent with my fists against the clinch. He wasn’t about to give in, though. Trading blows, we slugged it out for a little while until I caught him with a vicious uppercut that had him seeing stars.

Going in for the kill, I swung for the knockout with my right hand. But he ducked at the last second. Before I had time to react, he was moving toward me with his lighting quick speed.

Taking advantage of my vulnerable position, he grabbed my left arm and tumbled to the floor. Still standing, I was caught off balance as he arched back and threw his legs around my arm.

Crap. Not good.

The crowd went berserk as his whole weight pulled down on my arm. The pain was excruciating. In another minute, my shoulder would rip from the socket. I had to stay calm, even though I wanted to panic.

I slammed him into the mat, breaking his sweaty hold on my arm. He rolled over and came to his feet as I shook my arm out. It was numb, but was still intact. I wasn’t about to let it slow me down.

We circled again and he landed a gritty shot to my ribcage. That hurt.

I came back for more, delivering some lethal elbows to his head, busting him wide open. Blood poured from his forehead as we went at it.

I could tell he was running out of gas and getting tired. All those blows had him hurting. He was weakened; I just had to take advantage of any opportunity I got.

Crack!

His fist connected with my jaw, rattling my senses. But I stayed on my feet as he overstepped his punch. Acting quickly, I swept my leg behind his and brought him to the mat.

We grappled for a few seconds, but I was able to slip my arm around his neck, putting him in a chokehold as I leaned back, bringing him with me. I squeezed hard, holding on as he wrestled hard to get free.

His breathing was labored as he fought me, like a fish flailing on the bank of a river, but I had him. Fatigue started to set in, but my non-stop conditioning saved my ass.

Just ten more seconds and he would pass out.

Come on, Shepard. Hold the fuck on.

He tapped my arm, signaling his surrender.

It was over.

I had won.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Marla:

“Hold on, Beau...hold on!” I screamed after he snaked his forearm around bulldog’s neck and arched back.

Excitement rushed through my blood as agonizing seconds ticked by. Sheer power and determination were in full effect as Beau held on relentlessly. Finally, his opponent tapped his forearm. I knew that meant Bulldog was giving up.

Beau had won!

Clapping wildly, I was deliriously happy to see him overcome his opponent. Beau met my gaze as he was declared the winner and I couldn’t help but beam back at him.

After he disappeared from the octagon, I was escorted back out to the limo by the driver, where I was left to stew and wonder what Beau wanted.

Glancing down, I realized my stockings were a jagged mess from running around without my shoes on. I shimmied out of my hose and stuck them in my purse. They had been worth ruining to get a front row view of Beau’s fight.

After a while, Beau’s over-sized, bruised body floated into the back seat. He had showered and changed, looking like a civilized man in his crisp blue suit. A far cry from the warrior in the cage. He took a seat across from me, so we faced each other.

I was fighting my attraction to him, hard. I was more than a little turned on, taking in Beau’s primal, savage side, but I managed to ignore my desire to kiss his split upper lip and the shiner forming over his left eye. It was more important to stay clearheaded as we battled over whatever it was he wanted.

“Did you have a good time tonight, Marla?” he asked with a delicious smirk.

“Watching you beat the crap out of another man?” I asked coolly, trying to pretend I didn’t find it hot.

“It was a good fight.”

“I would agree.”

“So you had a good time?” he pressed.

“I don’t know if I had a good time, but it was definitely interesting to watch you fight. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you take someone down.”

“Yeah, it has been a long time. You’ve missed a lot.”

“I know I have. That was quite the show you put on, Beau. Why don’t you tell me why I’m really here tonight?” I asked, pointing to my outfit.

His finger ran across my knee. “I’ve always liked you in red.”

“I didn’t think you liked much about me, Beau.”

He let out a biting laugh. “Let’s focus on the positive...you’ve been a bad girl.”

“Oh? How have I been bad?” I uncrossed my legs, turned on by his words.

His blue eyes flickered with heat as he shot me a wolfish grin. “You distracted me during my fight.” He reached down, took my foot out of my black Jimmy Choo, and put it in his lap. “What were you thinking about when you rushed up to the cage?” His strong fingers massaged the pad of my foot.

I held in a groan. “Just remembering some times in high school.”

“Me too. God, it used to be so sweet to be inside you,” he admitted unexpectedly.

I tried to react calmly, but my chest heaved in excitement. “Why are telling me that?” I asked breathlessly.

“Because I want to make a deal with you.”

My cheeks flushed. “What kind of deal?”

“The kind that will make us both happy. But there are certain things I want from you.” His hand stroked my foot and then hovered above my leg, the warmth of his skin radiating inches from my flesh.

My thigh begged to be kissed, fondled, and wrapped around his waist.

I’d been with other men since Beau. But the passion I’d experienced with him had never been replicated with any of them. He had ruined me.

“What kind of deal are you talking about?” I asked, swallowing down my desire.

“The kind that lets me have you whenever I want you.”

Grace had nailed it. He definitely wanted sex from me.

I smiled coyly. “That’s bold, Beau. What makes you think I’m open to that?”

“Oh, I think you’ll do anything to keep your salon open.”

“Let me see if I am hearing you right. You’ll let my salon stay open if I sleep with you on a semi-regular basis whenever you demand it?”

“That could be part of the negotiations.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “Negotiations? What else goes along with this bargain?”

“I would think keeping your salon open would be enough.”

I had anticipated this scenario, but the reality was still hard to stomach.

I slipped my foot out of his lap. “Oh, Beau. Do you really think you can buy me?”

“I’ve done enough business to realize everyone is for sale.”

Now, he was insulting me. “I am
so
not for sale and I’m tired of you Shepard men using whatever means possible to get what you want.”

“What does that mean?”

I gave him the full effect of my fiery gaze. “It just means I won’t be bullied into sleeping with you.”

He leaned in close, where I saw a faded scar on his lip he must have acquired in his pro hockey days. I wondered what other scars he had collected over the years.