Pas de Deux: Part Two (A Cross and Pointe Novel Book 2) (12 page)

Cillian took the keys, shouldering the bags again, and headed for the elevator bank. When they were in the elevator, Sammi turned to him.

“Aren't you gonna sign autographs and stuff?”

He smirked. “I don't think anyone wants my autograph.”

“Are you kidding me? A lot of those kids would love it.” She folded her arms. “I'm sure some of those girls would, too.”

Cillian lifted a brow, his smile growing. “You jealous?”

Sammi scoffed. “Of course not.”
A little.

He shook his head. “I guess I wouldn't mind signing stuff for kids if they wanted, but that's about it. Sometimes some of the female fans can get a little...handsy. I wouldn't put you through that.”

“Oh. Uh...thank you.”

He brought her bag into her room. She was pleased; it was a nice room, spacious and decorated in creams and warm taupes. The king-size bed was covered in fresh white linens and stacks of fluffy pillows. The curtains parted to give her an impressive view of the city.

Cillian placed her duffel on her bed and glanced at his watch. “I gotta be at the Armory in half an hour. It's not too far. Do you wanna come with me or stay here?”

“I'll go. What'll you be doing?”

“I have to officially check in, weigh in, take some press pictures. Couple interviews, I guess. Then we'll come back here, meet Pop and Melody. Matthews and his girl will be here around seventeen-hundred. Baz'll be here a little bit after that. I think they wanted to go to dinner or something tonight.”

“Is your dad staying with you?”

“Yeah. I'm sleepin' on the couch. Mel gets the other deluxe. Let me drop off my bag, and then we'll go.”

The taxi ride was about ten minutes with traffic, and deposited them at the Washington Avenue Armory.

“It used to be a real National Guard armory,” Cillian explained as they walked inside. “Way back in the day. Now it's a sporting events center, but they kept the name.”

“'Cause it sounds cool?” Sammi smiled up at him.

“Basically.”

Inside, they found the main arena floor where a giant cage was set up.

“That's where the fights are happening,” Cillian said needlessly.

“Kinda scary.” Sammi stared at the structure, imagining two huge fighters squaring off, blood flying. She imagined Cillian inside it and winced.

“Killy.”

They both turned as Carl approached, smiling.

Sammi's brows immediately lowered, and even Cillian stiffened. He shot her a look that seemed to say “behave” and nodded at Carl, shaking his outstretched hand.

“How was the drive?” Carl smiled at Sammi, giving her a sweeping head-to-toe glance. She looked away.

“Fine,” Cillian said. “Just checked in at the hotel.”

“Good. You better go get checked in, Kills. Weigh-in's in fifteen minutes, then you got press right after.”

“All right.” Cillian paused, looking at Sammi, then Carl. “You'll be all right here?”

Sammi wasn't crazy about the idea of hanging with Carl on a good day, let alone in light of what Cillian had told her about him, but she nodded.

“Yeah, fine. Go.”

“All right.” He squeezed her hand and glanced at Carl again before taking off.

Carl turned to her. “Want a little tour?”

Sammi sighed inwardly and shrugged. “Sure.”

He led her around the arena, showing her where she and his family would be sitting—in the row of seats closest to the cage. He showed her where the commentators would be sitting, and where Cillian would enter the arena.

“Ever been to anything like this before?”

Sammi shook her head. “Nope. I didn't know this was such a big deal.”

“Yep. This can do a lot for Cillian's career.”

Sammi's ears perked up. “His career?”

“Yeah, as a fighter. He could make it to the big leagues, like some of these MMA stars. Make millions.”

“He's never said he wants to be a pro fighter. He always just talks about the gym. Speaking of...”

“Speakin' of what?” Suddenly, Carl seemed to be interested in the pair of technicians on ladders near the cage, adjusting the lighting.

Sammi folded her arms, fighting back the urge to smirk at his obvious discomfort. “Cillian mentioned that the gym was gonna be renovated.”

“Uh...yeah. Uh-huh.”

“He said there was a big equipment order that had been placed, or something?”

Carl frowned at her. “What about it?”

“Just wondering when it was gonna come in.”

“Sometime soon.” He shrugged a shoulder, fixing her with a level stare.

“Yeah? What'd you order?”

“Uh...” He blinked. “Can't remember off the top of my head. Why?”

“Well, when my showcase performance is over, I wanted to come back to the gym. You know, around mid-June, early July.” She smiled sweetly. “I wondered if you could order some yoga mats, Bosu balls, stuff like that. Or is it too late already? It should be here soon, right?”

Carl's frown deepened. “Yeah, sure,” he said smoothly, folding his arms. “Yeah, I'll look into that for you. Mid-June, early July, you said? Sure, Sammi. Anything for you. You have a good time this weekend, okay?”

Carl smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Then he slipped an arm around her waist and drew her into his side. It made her skin crawl and shocked her, but before she could react, he let her go.

“Hope you packed some nice outfits,” he added, his lips drawing back in a wolfish, leery smile. “Tight dresses, heels. He's gonna need it after the fights.”

“Who's going to need what?”

“Killy.” Carl tilted his head. “He's gonna have a lot of pent-up stress afterward. Why do you think you're here?” He chuckled.

Sammi just stared at him.
The nerve—

“Carl.” A man wearing glasses and a press pass came up to him, holding out a hand. “How are you?”

“Marty.” Carl grabbed his hand. “Good, man. Nice to see you.”

“Where's your boy?”

“Doin' what he's supposed to be doin'—what I tell him.” They both laughed.

Marty glanced at Sammi, giving her a brief onceover. “And who's this? Your new little thing?”

New little thing?
Sammi frowned. “No. I'm here with Cillian.”

“This is Sammi,” Carl said to Marty, sliding an arm around her again, winking at the reporter. “She's Cillian's...special girl.”

“I know what that means.” Marty chuckled and nodded at her. “Nice to meet you.”

She said nothing.

“Listen, man, I got some stuff to go over with you,” Carl said. “I'll give you a call here in about an hour to discuss, okay?”

“Sure, Carl. Look forward to talking to you. Everything still on for the interview?”

“Yep. He's gonna play nice, do what I say.”

“Excellent.” Marty gave Sammi another once-over. “See you around.”

Sammi watched him walk off, then disentangled herself from Carl. “I'm gonna go to the ladies' room.”

“Don't take too long.” Carl teethed his bottom lip, his eyes going over her again.

He looks at me like that one more time, I'll use my fucking heels to gouge his eyes out.

Sammi walked away quickly, heading for the women's bathroom she'd passed on the way in. Carl's behavior toward her made her physically queasy—and his comments about the purpose of her being there with Cillian made her sicker.

She gripped the sides of the sink, staring at her reflection. Maybe it was the bad lighting, but she looked pale.

“He was just talkin' shit, Samantha,” she told herself. “That's it.”

Then why is it so hard to shake off?

Cillian picked at his steak that night at dinner, glancing around the table. It would have been a perfect meal—if not for the fact that Carl insisted on joining them.

He watched the man interact with his family, his friends, talking Cillian up, singing his praises as if they were best friends.

It was getting more difficult to be cordial with Carl, now that Cillian was so close to being able to flick him out of his life for good. It took all of his restraint not to call him out right there at the table, in front of everyone. But he couldn't risk doing anything that would shove Carl into action before Cillian was ready—he was the majority owner, and Cillian would have no chance in civil court.

Instead, he focused on his plate. He was careful not to overindulge, ordering a steak, a plain baked potato, and some steamed vegetables. The food was excellent, but he couldn't enjoy it as much as he wanted to. Between his ire for Carl and his nerves about the following day, his stomach had tied itself into an impenetrable knot. Still, he needed the protein and the carbs, so he did his best to consume his meal.

Cillian glanced over at Sammi, seated next to him. She was talking to Matthews' girlfriend, Jess, her fingers toying with the stem of her wine glass. He hadn't had a chance to spend much time with her since they'd arrived in Albany; the need to be close to her hadn't remotely been fulfilled.

He leaned down to speak into her ear. “How you doin'?”

She turned to look at him, flashing her dimples.
There's my girl.
“Good. You?”

His lips grazed her shoulder. “Ready to get back to the hotel.”

He hadn't meant it suggestively, but he couldn't help it. It was hard to behave around his family, because she'd changed into a form-fitting black bodysuit tucked into tight jeans. A sharp black blazer added a modest touch, but the black stilettos on her feet brought to mind a dirty vision of them being all she wore, and pointed toward the ceiling. Her long hair was pinned up, revealing the slender, graceful line of her neck that he longed to explore with the tip of his tongue. She was utterly mouth-watering.

“All right,” Baz spoke up. “Let's get the champ back so he can rest. We'll meet tomorrow afternoon at the hotel and I'll arrange for transportation to the Armory.”

God bless you, Jonathan Basanta.

When they got to their feet to leave, Carl clapped him hard on the shoulder, grinning. “And that means
rest,
Killy.” He glanced at Sammi, lifting a brow at her.

Fuck off and mind your own business.
“Roger that.”

At the hotel, Matthews and Jess decided to have a drink in the hotel lobby, while Murphy asked Cillian for the key to the room.

“Ready to hit the sack, myself,” he said.

Melody leaned in to give Cillian and Sammi a hug. “Bedtime for me, after I call and check on the kids.”

“Tell 'em hi for me,” Cillian said.

“Will do. 'Night, champ.” Melody grinned over her shoulder as she walked toward the elevators.

“Not too much longer, all right, Killy?” Baz said. “You need to get some good sleep for tomorrow.”

“Roger, Coach.” Cillian smiled.

“See you bright and early. 'Night, Sammi.”

Cillian turned to Sammi. “Wanna stay for a drink?”

“No. I think I want to go to my room.”

“You ready to go to sleep?”

“No. Actually, um...can we talk?”

Cillian narrowed his eyes. She wouldn't meet his gaze, her mouth a taut line. “Of course we can. Are you okay?”

“Um, yeah. I just—wanna talk to you about something. Meet me in my room?”

“Sure.” Cillian frowned after her, watching her walk away toward the elevators.
What the hell's going on?

He made his way back to Matthews. “Hey, bro. Gonna rack up for the night.”

Matthews eyed him closely. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. We'll see you in the morning, champ.”

He clasped Cillian's hand and brought him in for a quick, one-armed hug. Cillian bid him and Jess a goodnight and walked to the elevators. He rode up to the sixth floor, then knocked on the door to his room. Murphy opened it.

“I'm headin' down to Sammi's room for a little bit.”

“Oh?” Murphy regarded him with an amused look on his face, folding his arms. “And when are you coming back?”

Cillian shrugged. “Not sure.”

“This wise, night before a fight?”

“Is what wi—Pop, it ain't even like that. She said she needs to talk about something.”

“Okay, okay.” Murphy lifted his hands. “Mindin' my own business. Just remember we gotta be there by two tomorrow. If you don't come back.” He couldn't be sure, but it seemed as though the old man was trying not to smile.

Cillian gave one nod and backed out of the room, then headed down the hall to Sammi's room, three doors down. He tapped lightly on the door.

The door opened, and she peered around it. “Hi.”

“Hi, yourself.”

He stepped in the room, looking over at her. She'd changed out of her clothes into a fluffy white robe, her long hair flowing free now.

“So, what's up? You sure you're okay?”

Sammi sighed and took his hand, leading him over to the bed. He propped himself up slightly to shove a pillow under the small of his back and leaned back so his shoulder blades were against the headboard and stretched his legs out in front of him. Sammi sat next to him with her back flush against the headboard and her knees pulled in to her chest.

“What's up?”

“Earlier today, while you were doing your check-in stuff, Carl was giving me a tour and giving me his I'm-so-proud-of-Killy spiel.”