fucking death. If you lose, you're dead.”
Her beautiful face pales, and the book in her hands slips to the floor. She's looking at me like she's terrified, and I can feel Mac’s eyes boring into my face. He's probably wondering why the fuck she’s here, not that he's going to ask. He knows better than that.
“You can't do that. What if something happens to you? What if you die?” Her bottom lip trembles, and her fear only turns me on more. I want her to want me...to need me as sick and twisted as it is. Tonight, I want her afraid so she knows how she makes me feel.
“Calm down, babe. Roman always wins…obviously.” Mac grins at her. I don't miss the pet name he uses either. It makes me want to punch him in the fucking face, which is ridiculous. He's one of my closest friends and she's not supposed to mean shit to me. Punching him in the face will definitely make it known she’s so much more than I lead her on to be.
“I…I need to go to the bathroom,” she exclaims in a panicked tone. Jumping from the couch with a hand to her stomach, she looks around. Her sudden change in mood startles me. I grab onto the desk to stop myself from going after her. Mac points in the direction of the door across the hall, and she races from the room, a tearful look in her eyes.
Fuck. I screwed up. I hurt her. Again.
“I know it’s none of my business, but did you not take your pills yet?”
I grind my teeth, stopping myself from lashing out at him. If it's not Ivan, it’s someone else. My addiction is mine alone. Whatever vice I use to win my fights is mine too. I don't owe anyone an explanation.
“Of course I didn't take it yet. I need to come down and get a good night of sleep before the fight. I’ll take some an hour before. Why the fuck does it matter?”
My blood starts to boil. I don't even think about what I'm doing when I stand up and shove from my desk, my fist clenched, my knuckles itching to slam into the side of Mac’s face.
“What the fuck, man?” Mac asks, a confused expression on his face. “Were you really thinking about punching me?”
My nostrils flare. The need to break, to destroy, pounds against my temple.
I'm out of control. Like a plane nose diving toward the ground, the only ending I'm prepared for is tragedy. “I'm sorry. I'm just…I don't know…” I release my clenched fist and let out a long sigh.
“Doesn't have anything to do with that chick, does it?” The mention of Sophie triggers my anger all over again. I don’t want to admit its Sophie and a combination of other things getting to me.
“No,” I bite out, and of course Sophie appears, walking back into the room, her eyes bloodshot. The blue of her irises is brighter, and she looks like she's been crying. I really fucking hope those tears aren't for me. If they are, I’ll give her a real reason to cry.
“I want to go back to the house,” she announces, and a bubble of laughter escapes my lips.
“Yeah, sorry, sweetheart. That's not happening. My brother put you in my care, and you aren't going anywhere I'm not. Sit your fucking ass down and wait ’til it’s time to leave.” The words rumble out of my chest, and Sophie starts to shake as if she's scared.
Then I catch the anger in her eyes, and I know that’s the real reason she’s trembling. I don't care if she sees me as an asshole, or if she's with angry me. In the end, it's all for the better—better if she hates me, thinks the worst of me.
“We’ll be back before it’s time to leave,” Mac announces as he and Dev leave the room. Sophie reaches for the book off the floor as I pull the pill bottle from my pocket. I unscrew the cap and pop one into my mouth, swallowing it down.
My eyes collide with Sophie’s, and I can’t help but speak the words on my tongue.
“Do you still feel safe with me?” I smirk, but that smirk is short-lived.
“It doesn’t matter what you do, Roman. I know you’re good underneath all the bad you portray, and through it all, that’s what I’ll continue to see—the man who rescued me from that cell and saw me—really saw me—when no one