to work, he’s going to have to allow me to work things out on my own rather than stampeding me and taking over. Just like everyone else in my life.
“He lied. No shocker there.”
I pull back and blink up at him. “That’s true. I should’ve seen this coming.”
“Don’t beat yourself up; this isn’t your fault.” Killian wipes under my eyes. “Hate the fact that he has these. He’s probably passing them around to all his friends—”
“Oh my God!”
“Shit.” He grimaces. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You think he has more?”
He shrugs. “Nah, and besides, what’s done is done. If I find out he’s sharing these, I’ll fucking mutilate him.” He dries my new tears and takes my hand. “Come on. We’re going to be late.”
I walk alongside him. “What should I do with these pictures?”
“Burn ’em, shred ’em, bury ’em. You pick.”
My heart sinks as I consider how quickly my good mood was turned to shit. And now I have to worry about finding naked photos of me all over campus.
This day just went to hell.
Sixteen
Killian
Shredded. Double-bagged. They’re shoved to the bottom of her garbage and then thrown in the dumpster outside of her apartment complex, but I’m still sick about those photos of Axelle.
My girl’s naked body is being shared with who-fucking-knows-who, and yeah, she may have only officially become my girl last night, but to me she’s been my girl since day one.
She’s dated some real winners in the past, but none of them have pulled a bullshit stunt like this. Clifford is a grade-A morally deprived piece of shit, and I’ll do everything in my power to keep him away from her.
I channel my frustration into every hit as I dance around the heavy bag. I’d usually spar with Rex today, but Cameron called him in for an emergency meeting. My guess is they’re planning the trip to London. It didn’t take long after I passed on the opportunity for them to fill the spot with a fighter out of Chicago. He’s making a name for himself up there, has some fights under his belt with a small organization, and just signed with the UFL.
I throw a combo to the bag, pushing back a wave of envy. He might have the dream career opportunity, but I got the dream girl. Besides, opportunities can be made. I plan on working hard to force open doors so that I’m able to provide Axelle with the life she deserves.
She doesn’t know it yet, but that’s the direction I’m heading—white dress, church bells, house, cars, kids, a fucking dog—all of it.
Feeling eyes on me, I grip the bag to keep it still and turn to find Blake glaring. Shit. Does he know about Axelle?
I wipe sweat from my eyes with my forearm, which proves pointless because my forearm is just as sweaty. “Blake? What’s up?”
He takes a couple of steps toward me, and it’s all I can do to not double-step back to keep distance between us. I give myself a mental high-five for standing my ground when he stops just a foot or so before me. “What. In the motherfuck. Is wrong with you?”
“I…” have no idea what that could possibly mean. If he found out I’m in love with his daughter, would he ask me this in response? Probably not. “Don’t know?”
“You don’t know.” He lifts his eyebrows as if that’s a question, and I’m completely lost on how to answer.
My eyes wander around as if they’re desperately seeking guidance or possibly another fighter just in case whatever is simmering below Blake’s surface explodes all over me. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Do something wrong?” He drops his gaze and shakes his head before he pins me with a glare. “You sure fucking did.” He tilts his head, those arms crossing at his chest and emphasizing his size. “Explain to me why you’re not going to be on a plane to motherfucking London with Rex day after tomorrow.”
I exhale long and hard and run a hand through my hair, which is so damp with sweat it sticks out on all ends. “I know it seems like I’m passing up something huge, but—”
“Nope.” He frowns. “It doesn’t seem like you’re passing up something huge. You are.”
“Okay, I’m passing up something huge, but I have a plan, and in order to see that plan play out, I have to stay in Vegas and finish school.”
His eyes widen as if I just told him chickens fly out of my ass. “One year, Killer. No