Unleashed (A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance) (85 page)

Knuckles rap against my door. I know that it is Chance by the way that he knocks. He must not have brought his keycard out with him this morning.

I creep toward the door, unsure of what our conversation is going to be. Did he know I was listening through it the night before? Does he know that I heard what he said?

Does it even matter?

Last night, when he came back into the room, I pretended to be asleep. I was curled up in bed, facing the wall, and I didn’t turn around.

I heard him get ready for bed, heard him shower and brush his teeth, the springs of his bed creak beneath his weight as he climbed in.

I couldn’t catch a wink. All night my mind raced.

I feel like we are one long shot away from being over. Dad will have to leave the States, go on the run, if he wants to get away from the debt collectors.

I spent all night reading up horror stories on the internet. Beneath my blanket, phone-screen near blinding, I read of people borrowing money from loan sharks, and then not being able to pay it back.

Stories of people having bones broken, losing limbs, being beaten to within inches of their lives… those were the tamer stories. The most gruesome ones terrified me.

The ones about women were the worst.

If it’s really over a million dollars that Dad owes, they’re not going to just let that slide. Maybe a few hundred thousand, they might give you some extra time, might loosen the leash a little.

But a
million
?

There’s no way in hell they don’t collect on that, in one way or another.

So Dad
will
have to run. Either that or change his name, assume a new identity. Or something. I don’t even know how it all works.

And what about me? No college, no degree. We won’t be able to afford it! And I was never granted a scholarship…

“Cass,” I hear Chance call through the door. “Open the door.”

I glance toward the clock, see that it’s half-past eight in the morning. I barely got a wink of sleep last night. I’m groggy, tired, and my eyes are dark rings.

When I open the door, I see Chance standing there drenched in sweat. His neck shines in the hotel hallway light. Beads drip off his chin. He’s got a shadow – he must not have shaved yet.

It’s amazing to me that the first thing I think is that he smells good when he sweats. I want to be grossed out by that, but I’m just not.

It’s like I want everything about him, every smell, every feeling, every single thing.

I’ve never felt like that before.

“What the hell happened to you?” I ask him as he steps in.

“I need to get my conditioning up,” he says, panting. There’s barely any emotion on his face. “I’m going to shower, and then we’ll go get breakfast.”

I frown, furrow my brow, follow him into the bathroom. “What are you talking about?”

“Museums. Our plan.”

“No, I don’t think we’re doing that anymore.”

“Get ready, and I’ll see you in half an hour.”

“Don’t you think we should talk, Chance?”

“We’ll talk while we walk. We’re going to be doing a lot of walking if we’re hitting three museums.”

He begins to undress, and I watch him while he does. The carved lines of his body never cease to be pleasing to the eye, but he disappears behind the shower’s opaque glass quickly.

“Get ready!” he tells me.

Thirty minutes later I’m as ready as I’m bothered to be, and slumped in one of the armchairs in the lobby. I see Chance stride out of the lift. Not many people make everything they wear look great, but he always does.

“Come on,” he says, reaching out a hand. I get up, but don’t take it.

“I don’t really feel like going anymore, Chance. Dad is probably going to want to talk to me.”

“Fuck your father. Let’s go, I’m starving.”

“Fuck my father?”

“Yes, fuck him. He should be concentrating on scrounging together enough money, not having it out at you.”

“He’s not going to have it out at me.”

“Yes, Cass, he is. He’s ashamed, his ego has been bruised, and he needs an outlet. I wouldn’t risk it. Come with me today.”

I want to bite back. He doesn’t understand…
I
need an outlet.

“Come on, you can bitch at me as we walk.”

Crossly, I fold my arms. “I resent that.”

He gives me a small shrug, and there’s just a glimmer of a smirk on his face.

“But I reserve the right to do so.”

“Fine by me,” he says.

I don’t know why – I shouldn’t be taking such big risks, especially in the lobby of our hotel – but I take his hand. I don’t care anymore if Dad sees us. I don’t care if he finds out that we’re together now.

We’re together
. Even I haven’t thought about it in those words.

It feels good to hold his hand. I feel somehow safer when I do, like I’m not the only one dealing with all of this shit.

Chance is right there in it with me, too. He’s even the one who is going to be fighting.

We’re in this together.

“You really don’t have to do this.”

“You heard me last night. It’s all set in stone. I’ve already arranged the fight.”

I swallow. “You knew I was listening through the door?”

Chance just nods.

“What if you lose?”

He looks down almost angrily at me. “I’m not going to fucking lose.”

“Fine,” I say. It feels like we’re on the brink of an argument and I have no idea why. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize, Cassie. It’s just I’ve never fought a guy as good as Kaminski before.”

“So?”

“I can’t be lacking anything in the cage. I need to
know
I’m going to win. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I get it, Chance. Confidence.”

He changes the subject: “I need either tuna, chicken, and some brown bread with a boiled egg.”

“Well, great, that leaves us lots of places.”

“It’s to prepare for the fight. I can’t be eating junk food, or rich food.”

“You could probably get turkey easily?”

“That’ll do,” he says.

We sit down at a small café and eat breakfast mostly in silence. Chance looks off somewhere else, and it disconcerts me. I almost wish he had his cocky, swaggery-self back, always making inappropriate jokes and being a general dickhead.

Now… now he is preoccupied.

I guess that I am, too.