Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
He grunts something at Soren that makes Soren tense before the guy swings at him, this time landing the blow. But Soren reacts quickly. He steps back and shakes it off before advancing on the other fighter, who’s smirking now because he finally got a hit in. Soren jabs him in the face, not once, not twice, but three times consecutively. And the other fighter falls straight onto his ass, the crowd cheering loudly.
“Knockout.”
It’s chanted over and over again.
Soren goes to leave the ring while the other guy struggles and fails to sit up. The woman in front of me screams Soren’s name, making him pause. His eyes flick in our direction before drifting across the room, sharp and searching.
Just when I think he’s about to leave, his attention shifts back in our direction, and his stormy gray eyes land directly on me. His lip curls up in disgust before he starts walking my way. I stay where I am, unable to move even if I wanted to. Having a man as powerful as he is stalking toward you after he just knocked someone out is somewhat intimidating, to say the least. I note a thin drip of blood on his lip as he climbs over the rope and pushes through until he’s standing right in front of me. The air between us thickens, heavy with adrenaline and something else I can’t quite name, and it feels like everything falls silent before his lips start to move.
“What are you doing here?” he hisses at me, his voice low, rough, smoky and spent—like someone who just finished fucking and lit a cigarette. He’s barely keeping his anger in check as his eyes narrow on me, and I blink to escape the trance his voice puts me in.
“I—” His demeanour makes me lose my words.
“She said she was fucking a fighter,” the woman from earlier shouts above the din of the crowd.
His gray gaze flicks to her, then comes back to me. “Fucking a fighter?” he asks, his lips quirking in amusement. Asshole.
“I was just leaving.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder.
He steps up extremely close, then leans down and gets in my face. “No, you aren’t. You’ve been following me for way too long, Miss Knight.”
“So, you’ve done your research,” I say sarcastically, resisting the urge to rest my hand on my hip, while trying to swallow down nerves that are bubbling up with his closeness.
“Oh, have I ever.” Soren dips his head even closer, his nose skimming past my cheek, his mouth gazing far too close to my ear. “Tell me, who is with your son right now?”
I gasp, my stomach pitching, but it’s fury at his question and the veiled threat behind it that tightens my fists at my sides. In that moment, the people around us fade into nothing, the noise dulling until it’s just him and me. This man has done his digging, and he’s done it well.
I don’t post my son on social media at all because I try to keep him out of the public eye as much as possible. Not just because I investigate some weird things in my job, but also because his father has requested it. I’m on good terms with Oliver’s father, and I want to keep it that way. Even though our relationship didn’t work out, he is a good father.
“How dare you?” I seethe, stepping closer, until I can smell the sweat covering his body.
“Me? How dare I?” He laughs, slowly and mean, as if he already knows how this ends. “Have you forgotten you take every opportunity to follow me and dig into my business?” he reminds me.
“It’s my job. I go where the story is. And you have a story, Soren.”
Someone bumps me from behind, and it pushes me straight into his arms. He grabs me, one hand on my arm, the other settling on my waist, warm and… possessive? He doesn’t push me away. He holds me there, like he’s deciding what to do next.
“And it’s my job to make sure I’m not being stalked by crazy women who want what I have.” I’m acutely aware of his touch right now.
“Believe me, you have nothing I want.”
“Oh, really?” He bends down, and his face is so close to mine that for a moment I think he’ll kiss me. Instead, he shakes his head, huffing out a breath. “So, why do you keep stalking me?”
“Stalk? That’s a word you clearly don’t know the true definition. I attend places where you happen to be, for work,” I explain.
I’m jostled again as the crowd starts to move, and my hands fall to his hard chest. Glancing down at the spot where my skin touches his, I quickly pull them away because his chest is hot to touch. As I do, he releases me, and I turn away to leave, but his hand shoots out and grips my wrist, his fingers wrapped tightly.