Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
He frowns. “Maybe you’re right. Not this week, but I’ll definitely go with you when I can.”
That’s all I need for now. The promise of normal couple stuff in the future. I tease my fingers over his chest. “That’s probably wise. What if we ran into Melissa again and she wanted to give you her number?” I tease in a high-pitched singsong.
He flicks his gaze up. “This show’s like a curse that never goes away.”
“Understatement of the decade.” We haven’t talked about any of this yet and I have no idea what his plans are for the future. “But let’s face it, you’re this big reality star now—”
His harsh laughter cuts through my words.
I smack his chest. “I’m serious.”
“It just sounds so ridiculous. And trust me when I say, that’s the last thing I want engraved on my tombstone. Black belt. Mechanic.” He leans in and kisses my forehead. “Molly’s boyfriend. Those are the only titles I want.”
One corner of my mouth tilts up. “Molly’s boyfriend should be first on that list. Just sayin’.”
He rumbles with deep, affectionate laughter. “It is. ‘Molly’s husband’ will be even better one day.”
“Oh.” My heart pitter-patters. “Really?”
“Hell yes.” His happy expression fades and his forehead wrinkles into a frown. “I need to talk to you about something.”
His grave tone raises the hairs on the back of my neck. I shift away to see his face better, but he tightens his arms around me.
“What?” I ask.
Here’s where he says it’s nothing bad. Or no big deal. Or tells you he’s moving to California to become a professional fighter and we’ll see each other during the holidays.
“Uh, so you saying the reality star thing reminded me, uh…” He squeezes his eyes shut and curses under his breath.
My lungs freeze, waiting for him to continue.
“Part of my contract, well, getting the rest of my prize money hinges on me returning for a ‘reunion’ show.”
I groan and roll my eyes. “I’m not surprised.”
Relief floods his expression. “It got delayed and put off because of Naptime’s surgery.”
“What surgery?”
Griff lifts a shoulder and shifts his gaze away from me. “I came home pretty fucked up, but he fared a lot worse. He had to have an operation on his shoulder or something.” He blows out a frustrated breath. “I really don’t care what happens to that asshole, I’m just trying to explain why I’m still tied up with this thing.”
Knowing Griff, he cares a little about injuring someone that severely. The guy he and my brother train with always taught them to fight clean and always end a fight with the least damage possible.
A reality show wouldn’t care about sportsman-like behavior. Just like they didn’t care about destroying our relationship. They’d want the fights to be as brutal as possible. Anything to bring in the highest ratings.
“I’m surprised they didn’t make a big deal out of his injuries. They could’ve given you some spiffy new ring name like The Bone Cracker.” My voice turns cold and distant.
Instead of laughing, his frown deepens. “Maybe it had more to do with them wanting Naptime to look like the clear winner.”
Anger that Griff was robbed from winning the title boils my blood. I don’t need to watch the show to know he should have won. Split decision my ass.
“Anyway.” He reaches for my hand, curls his fingers around mine and squeezes gently. I lift my gaze. His serious expression sends fear pumping through my veins again. “Before I left, I had a sit-down with the head guy. The one I demanded a meeting with after…Remy told me about the episode that—”
“Ruined my life?” I finish for him. Why is he bringing this up now? We had such a beautiful night together. Talking about the show is bad enough. I don’t want to be reminded of all that other ugliness.
He closes his eyes for a second, then powers ahead. “They mentioned the reunion episode. Like I said, I won’t get the other half of my winnings unless I go.”
Figures there’d be more strings attached. “I guess that makes sense. They want the whole cast there, I bet. Especially the final guys.”
“Right.” He takes a breath. “But they dangled another incentive in front of me.”
“What?”
His lips part and the cold, awful truth of what he’s about to say spills over me.
“No,” I whisper.
He nods slowly. “They’ll pay you for your appearance on the reunion show.”
He names an amount that would be enough to cover my remaining tuition, books, and housing next year—if I’m lucky enough to be awarded the same scholarship money I received this year. That could really help take some of the burden off of Remy. There might even be enough left to make a few of my car payments since I hate that Remy took on that extra expense too.
But sitting on some stage with all those fake people would be like selling my soul to the ghouls who “showed” the world my boyfriend sleeping with another woman.