Wanted: A Bad Boy Romance (14 page)

I avert my eyes the second I see
Thad strolling into the break room the next morning. My body clenches before
folding into itself. The sight of him repulses me. He’s everything I’m supposed
to want and yet he’s nothing I want.

“Hey, Jordana.” His smooth voice
cuts through the tense, office air.

I force myself to meet his gaze
and offer a slow nod. Engaging in conversation with him is probably what keeps
him coming back. He thinks he still has a chance. I’m not sure what day and age
he thinks we live in, but where I come from if a lady rebuffs you once, you
leave her be and move on.

“Haven’t seen much of you this
week.” He pours himself a cup of coffee I know he’ll never touch. “Kent’s been
keeping you busy, I assume.”

“Yeah,” I say, stirring creamer
into the cup of coffee I poured seconds before he waltzed in here. The mug is
warm between my palms, and I lift it to my lips. I’d rather take a scalding hot
sip than utter another word to him.

“Feels like you’re avoiding me.”
He chuckles like he’s joking, but I know he isn’t. “Almost.”

I shrug one shoulder. It pains me
to be standoffish to him, but I’m not sure how else to move forward from here.
The last thing I need to be doing is giving him more hope.

“What are you doing Friday?” he
asks before I leave the room.

I stop, my shoulders falling. I’m
faced away from him. “I have plans.”

“With your boyfriend?” he asks.

My heart leaps and a jolt of pain
zips down my belly. Does he know or is he bluffing? Has he seen me with Titan?

“No boyfriend,” I say.

“Yeah. I didn’t think so,” he
says.

I turn to face him, shooting him
a raised eyebrow in a silent attempt to call him out on his rudeness. My
gesture is lost on him.

Instead he’s standing over the
sink, pouring out his freshly poured cup of coffee. I knew it was always a
ruse.

He lingers before me, hot air
pushing past his flared nostrils, and within seconds he brushes past me and
disappears down the hall.

I’m equal parts relieved and
remorseful. Rejection stings, no matter who you are. But hopefully he’ll leave
me alone from now on.

I’m just glad I didn’t have to
get HR involved.

***

“Jordy, baby, it feels like
you’re never home anymore.” Mom hasn’t called me Jordy in ages. Not since I was
a little girl. She places her hand atop mine at dinner that night and offers
the kind of smile that tells me she’s one more glass of wine from being
full-blown drunk.

Lewis sits at his end of the
table, adjusting his reader glasses before scrolling through the day’s news on
his tablet. He’s in his own little world as per usual.

“Just busy, Mama.” I sip my water
and glance at the clock, counting down the moments until I can retire to my
room for the night. Part of me wants to go to Titan’s again, but I can’t make
it a daily habit. He’s not my boyfriend, and I’m enjoying this thing we’re
doing right now. Last thing I want is to push him away or smother him.

“Busy with what? Your internship
goes until, what, five or six? And then half the time you don’t come home until
late. What are you doing with all that extra time?”

Her clarity in his moment is
shocking. Maybe she’s more aware of the goings-on than I give her credit for?

“Different things,” I lie.
“Sometimes I run to the mall. Sometimes I give people rides home. Sometimes I
go to a movie.”

“By yourself?”

“Yes, Mama. What’s wrong with
that?”

“I-I
guess
I just hadn’t realized how much you were growing up.” Her hand slides off mine
and she sits back in her chair, a wistful gleam in her chocolate eyes. “I still
think of you as my clingy little girl sometimes. Afraid to leave my side.”

I haven’t been that clingy little
girl in a long time. My mother’s concept of time has completely dissipated
since Jerome died. Her days, weeks, and years all blur together.

“Did Titan like the things you
gave him?” she asks.

Lewis lifts a silvery brow and
peers over his glasses for a quick second. Sometimes I think he still cares
about his son, he just won’t admit it.

“He did.” I keep my answer short
and sweet for fear of saying too much.

“That’s good,” Mama says,
reaching for her wine goblet. “You’re such a sweet girl, always taking care of
everyone. Putting everyone else first. You’re going to make a wonderful wife
and mother someday.”

“Whoa,” I laugh. “Where did that
come from?”

Her body tilts my way. “In group
therapy, we’ve been discussing moving forward this week. Focusing on the
future. Finding things to look forward to.”

“Oh…”

“Jordy, I know you’re only twenty-two,
but I can’t wait for you to find a nice man, settle down, raise a family. My
future grandchildren will give me purpose again. I just know it. And Jerome’s
spirit will live on through them.”

She slurs her last sentence,
taking another sip. I’m not sure how much good this therapy is doing for her.
Mama’s bad days still seem to outnumber the good.

“I’m not in a rush,” I say. “But
yes, someday I’ll settle down.”

“Are you talking to anyone these
days?” she asks, batting her eyes. Her lips twist and button. “Any nice, young
men catching your eye?”

“In this town?” I respond a
little too quickly, and I pray she doesn’t spot the tiny beads of sweat lining
the top of my forehead. The dining room just grew ten degrees warmer. “Nope.”

I hate lying to my mother. Hate
it.

But it’s a necessary evil, at
least in this situation.

The last thing I need to be
telling her right now is that I’m screwing her boyfriend’s ex-convict son.

“Thanks for dinner, Mama.” I rise
from the table and carry my plate to the dishwasher before returning to give
her a kiss on the top of her head. My hands rest on her shoulders, and they
feel bonier than they used to. She’s withering away under
those
professor-grade, cable-knit cardigans she hides beneath. “I’ll be upstairs if
you need me, okay?”

***

YOU STILL UP?

A text comes through on my phone
just a hair past eleven. I shut off my eReader and squint against the bright
light of my glaring cell screen.

Titan.

My stomach somersaults as much as
I try to keep my excitement at bay.

I type a quick
“yes” and hit
send.

The phone is still for several
minutes. Nothing incoming. The fact that Titan is sitting across town in his
apartment, thinking of me, warms me more than it should.

I type another message, my
impatience getting the best of me.

YOU NEED SOMETHING?

My phone rings a minute later.

“I hate texting,” he says after I
answer. “Takes too fucking long. I don’t have time for that shit.”

I guess if you’re not used to it
and haven’t done it in a long time, it might feel inefficient. It’s okay
though. I’d rather hear his velvet voice anyway.

“What’s up?” I ask, hoping he
doesn’t hear the cheesy grin in my voice.

“Just weird that you didn’t come
over tonight. Thought for sure you’d be knocking on my door at the usual time.”

“Are you saying you miss me,
Titan?”

“Nope.”

“Right.”

“Just saying I’m a creature of
habit. Was getting used to our little routine.”

I roll my eyes and sink back into
my bed. “Whatever. You’re horny.”

“Always.”

“I’m not coming over,” I say. I’m
comfortable. I’m in bed. Plus I don’t want to seem desperate.

“Didn’t ask you to.”

“Then why’d you call?”

He’s quiet, and my smile fades. I
can’t deny the pull going on between us. There’s something there, though I
haven’t a clue what it is, and I know neither of us will ever admit it. Talking
about it will bring it to life. Acknowledging it will mess with this good thing
we’ve got going.

“You lonely, Titan?” My tone is
soft. “You can admit it if you are. I get lonely sometimes too.”

He laughs through the receiver. “What
is this? Fucking pillow talk? Stop, Jordana.”

Serves me right.

He’s not the heart-to-heart type.

“Anyway.” He blows a loud sigh.
He didn’t call me for any particular reason.

I’m pretty sure he just wanted to
hear my voice…

Feel that connection…

And the funny part is, he
probably doesn’t realize it either.

“Hang up, Titan.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

He ends the call, and I pop out
of bed, tearing over to the leaning mirror in the corner of my room. Within
seconds, I’m stripped bare, completely naked from head to toe. I grab my phone
and strike a pose. Then another. Then another.

They’re strategic.

Tasteful.

Sexy.

My heart
races, thundering against my chest.
Cotton fills my
mouth. I’ve never done anything remotely like this before. And I know it’s
wrong. It’s idiotic. It’s one of those things that may come back to bite me in
the end, but I have to do it.

I want to do it.

I step back into my clothes and
take a deep breath, readying a message to Titan containing three revealing
photos.

The second I hit send
,
I get the biggest rush. Heat invades my core as I think
about the smile those pictures will put on his face. Knowing I turn him
on,
turns me on. I miss him right now. His warmth. His
weight.
His hands exploring every inch of my willing and
ready body.

My phone buzzes, and Titan’s
reply fills my screen.

HOLY SHIT.

I reply with a winking emoji and
tell him I’ll see him tomorrow.

Tugging an old t-shirt and a pair
of cotton pajama shorts
on,
I climb back into bed
wearing the satisfied smirk of a woman who, for the first time in forever,
feels wanted.

Even if it’s just physical,
there’s no denying it.

Jordana Perry is wanted.

I knew this was going to be a bad
idea.

I’m standing at the side of the
makeshift ring, taping my hands and throwing shadow punches as my gaze scans
the room.

Jordana is sitting in a metal
folding chair about twenty feet away, sandwiched between two of the sketchiest
sons of bitches I’ve ever seen. They’ve checked her out no less than five times
since she arrived, and now the douche on the left has the nerve to introduce
himself
.

Her dark hair is tucked back into
a baggy hoodie. Thank god her sex-on-fire body is hidden behind raggedy
clothes, but her beautiful mug is still on full display.

This will be the last time I
bring her.

“That her?” Kyle sneaks up on me
from behind, his hand gripping my shoulder.

I nod.

“Fuckin’ A,” he says with a
hungry smile. “You get to hit that every night? Good for you, man. Good for
you.”

“Don’t talk about her,” I growl,
throwing right jab.

“Look who’s territorial all of a
sudden,” Kyle teases. “Thought she was just a piece of ass.
She
your girlfriend now?
You give her a promise ring? Make it official?”

It’s none of Kyle’s damn
business.

“You trying to throw me off my
game?” I ask. “Because if you are, it’s working.”

“Shit, Titan. No one’s trying to
throw you off your game, especially not me. If you lose this fight, I’m blaming
her. It’s all going to fall on her.”

I could sock him across the mouth
right now.

“She’s got nothing to do with
anything.” I spit on the cement floor.

Across the room, a behemoth trots
down the steps, two at a time. He’s easily half a foot taller than
me and a solid fifty pounds
bigger.

“You fucking kidding me?” I turn
to Kyle, my rage on full display. “Talk about fucking stacked.”

“Put on a good show tonight,” he
says. “You’ll be rewarded handsomely. More fights. Bigger fights.”

“What do you mean, put on a good show?”

“I want you to throw the fight,”
he says, leaning in. “I want you to lose tonight.”

“You’re out of your damn mind if
you think I’m going to lose.”

“I mean, give it your all. Act
like you want to win. Try to win. But when the moment’s right, give him the
victory. Let him knock you out.”

My hands hook my hips and I
square my chest with his. “You said two grand tonight.
Five
hundred for fighting.
I’m not walking away with less than two grand. I
came here to win. I’m not throwing the fight.”

Kyle’s gaze darts from me, to Big
Foot in the corner, to the small crowd filling the ring.

“Look,” he says. “Ain’t nobody
going to want to watch you fight if all you do is win. People don’t want to pay
money for that shit. They want to pay money to sit on the edge of the seat the
whole time wondering if Titan fucking Blackstone is going to go home with a win
or a not. You can’t be undefeated anymore. It ends tonight.”

My head is hot, my ears even
hotter. I’m not walking out a loser, and I’m not walking out like some coward
before the fight’s even begun.

I spin to look at Jordana,
sitting in her chair. The guy on her left is staring at her, his lips moving a
mile a minute, and she’s doing her best to ignore him.

Funny, since she doesn’t belong
to me. Not technically anyway. But she acts like it.

“Look,” Kyle says, grabbing my
shoulder and pulling me closer. His gaze lowers. “I’ll give you two grand out
of my own pocket if you throw the fight tonight. But you have to put on a good
show. This is entertainment at the end of the night. Remember that.”

My nostrils flare, and I summon
every ounce of machismo I have before dousing it in ego.

“Fine. Fuck.” I throw another
shadow punch and bounce light on my feet.

Kyle smiles.

***

The metallic taste of blood fills
my mouth. My lip burns. The left side of my cheek is numb. My breath escapes me
as my vision comes back into focus. The sensation of cold, dirty concrete
beneath my hands orients me to my position on the floor.

Dingy, gnarled feet belonging to
my opponent reside in front of me, and when I glance up, I see the ref holding
Big Foot’s arm in the air. The small crowd cheers.

Everyone
except Jordana.

From where I lay, I see her
rising from her seat, nibbling on her nails and resisting the urge to rush to
my side.

Fuck.

I don’t want her pity. I don’t
want her to baby me. I’m not broken. I just took some hits. I push myself back
up, swaying from side to size as the room spins. Must’ve been a hard hit to the
side of the head that did me in, but at least I can say I didn’t go down
without a fight.

I fought hard, right to the very
last round.

Kyle wanted a show. I gave them a
fucking show.

Within seconds, Kyle’s fingers
dig into my arm as he pulls me to a nearby chair and shoves a bottle of room
temperature water in my hands. I guzzle it down in three gulps and toss the
plastic bottle to the ground where it bounces off the hard concrete and rolls
under my chair.

My vision comes and goes,
blurring and focusing.

“You did good, Titan,” Kyle says
with an award-winning smile on his face. He’s too pleased. “This is going to be
a game changer for us.”

The overwhelming roar of the room
swirls around my pounding head and makes me want to puke. All these assholes
are cheering because I just got my ass handed to me. Makes me wonder if they
all bet against me. Shit. I bet Kyle bet against me. Not sure how else he’d be
able to pay me two grand to fix the fight.

I need to get out of here since
I’m technically in a bar and Jordana’s technically in public with a paroled
felon. It’s not worth the risk. I just want to get home and crash.

Jordana approaches me with ginger
steps, her gray hood falling down her shoulders revealing a mess of dark
ringlets. Even in the dimly lit basement of a bar, she’s a goddamn beauty
queen.

She doesn’t belong in this world.

“Come on. Let’s get you home.”
Her honeyed voice is a siren song. I follow her up the stairs and across the
street to my apartment.
My brain pulses and pounds.
Gaps of time are missing every other minute. Next thing I know, I’m lying in my
bed and Jordana’s cleaning my cuts.

I’ll never tell her this, but it
feels good to have someone look after me. I’d almost forgotten what that felt
like.

I close my eyes for just a
moment. I need to rest them. I need to catch my breath. Her sweet perfume fills
my lungs and blankets me in the kind of comfort I haven’t embraced in forever.

“Don’t leave.”

The words are unfamiliar, until I
realize they’re mine. I’m telling her to stay.

The words just came out without
much forethought, and now that they’ve been said, there’s no taking them back.
Can’t get mad at myself though. I’m not exactly in the right state of mine.
Pretty sure my filter’s broken from taking one too many punches to the side of
the head.

The bed shifts, and Jordana
climbs beneath the covers, pressing the back of her body against mine before
pulling my arm around her.

“I won’t,” she whispers.