you to my actual resorts ASAP so you don’t think this piss-poorly of me.”
Yay.
Taking in the empty lot and horror movie vibe, I couldn’t help asking, “Why do you hold fights here?”
We stopped outside a set of metal double doors. The dim overhead light played with the darkness, adding shadows to Maximo’s defined jaw and cheekbones. He looked menacing and hot. There was something unreadable in his expression as he curled his hand around the side of my neck, his thumb stroking across the bite mark. “You’ll see.”
With that ominous answer, he released me to touch his thumb to a keypad similar to the ones at home. There was a beep and a click before he opened the door, gesturing for me to enter first.
It may not have looked like an arena from the outside, but the inside sure did.
And a nice one, at that.
Rows of empty padded folding chairs surrounded the ring in the center of the humongous room. Speakers and lights hung from the high ceiling, stocked bars lined the walls, and a blank scoreboard was suspended over the ring.
With a hand at my lower back, Maximo guided me around the edge of the room and down a long hallway. He put his thumb on another lock and opened the door to an office.
He grabbed a remote off the desk and turned on a small TV. “Stay here while I check on everything.”
“I can help,” I offered, not wanting to miss a moment of the excitement. There were a lot of things I hated about my childhood, but boxing wasn’t one of them. It was thrilling and primal and beautiful in a violent way.
“Maybe next time. Marco will be outside the door.”
And then he left.
I scanned the office, but it was just beige concrete walls, two doors, a metal desk, and a few metal filing cabinets. Trying one of the drawers, it loudly slid open.
Empty.
Boring.
I opened a door to find a tiny bathroom that’d seen better days. I used it anyway, scrubbing my hands like a surgeon when I was done. Flopping down on the desk chair, I spun around a few times before leaning back to watch the TV.
After forty-five minutes—or a sitcom and a half in TV time—there was a ruckus in the hall.
People must be arriving.
I cracked the door to check it out, but the only view I got was of Marco’s broad back.
He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Need something?”
“No, I—”
“Then close the door.”
Rolling my eyes, I said, “I just wanted to see.”
“Close the door, Juliet.”
“Fine.” Since I couldn’t see anything past the human door that was Marco, I closed the actual one. I climbed onto the desk and flicked through the stations, growing more and more envious of the people in the arena.
The air was always wired before a match. The blood lust and violence. The adrenaline. The savageness. It was unlike anything else.
Instead of experiencing that high, I was stuck experiencing the low that came from shitty TV.
After another sitcom, the door swung open, the low rumble of chaos growing louder. Maximo stood in the doorway, his expression blank.
I turned off the TV and approached, his sharp eyes tracking my every movement. When I got within reach, he hooked a hand behind my neck and tugged me so I slammed against his chest. His head lowered and his lips pressed against mine in a bruising kiss.
There was a desperation to it I may not have understood, but I liked. A lot. His kiss wasn’t as cold and aloof as he’d been. It was hot and fervent.
Pulling away, he held my hand but didn’t speak as we left the room—not that I would’ve been able to hear him anyway. Conversation and laughter traveled down the hall at a steady roar. Since there was no cheering or flesh hitting flesh mixed in with the noise, I knew the matches hadn’t begun.
When we reached the main area, my steps faltered before stopping completely.
It was…
Insanity.
Chaos.
Wild.
There were beautiful women in various stages of undress hanging on men. Minidress clad waitresses navigated through the crush with practiced ease. The heavy stench of liquor and cigars clung in the air, mixing with wired adrenaline—a cocktail for depravity.
Noticing I’d stopped, Maximo paused, too, his eyes on me as a muscle in his jaw twitched. After a long moment, he tugged my hand as he continued down the aisle.
As we moved, I glanced around at people talking, drinking, and smoking. No one was dressed casually. It was all pristine suits