Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64366 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64366 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“Fuck this.” Riker stalked off the stage. “I’m not sticking around for this. Everybody knows this is all a publicity stunt for the UFC’s new pet, and they’re not paying me enough to play along. I’m going to see if they’ve opened the bar yet.”
I sat in stunned silence, wondering if what he’d said was true, or if he was just scared like Kage had said. It was possible that this was all a publicity stunt. It was even possible that Riker’s temper tantrum and angry exit was part of it. I remembered what Kage had said over the phone when he’d told me about the event. Were they really trying to bring in some of the drama of pro wrestling?
I’d watched pro wrestling some as a child, and I remembered the theatrics involved. Outside of the ring, the wrestlers had engaged in on-camera stories that put the soap operas to shame: fights, arguments, vendettas. And then when the women joined the show, they added affairs, cheating, jealousy, and love triangles. But the fighting itself was fake, or what those in the business called work. Kage had said they wanted to keep MMA real, so that was reassuring. I couldn’t imagine him faking a fight for any amount of money. Hell, I doubted if he could hold back enough to do it. That man loved to fight, and he loved to win.
My phone vibrated with a notification, and I saw that someone had tweeted about what had just happened on the stage. “OMG Kage just called out Riker. #HolyShit #WelcomeToTheMachine.”
“Enjoying the show?” The smooth voice brought my arm hairs to attention. Peter Santori lowered himself into the chair Farrah had vacated, keeping his eyes trained on the stage as if I was too insignificant to bother looking at. His charcoal suit was so perfectly fitted, it was like an extension of the man himself.
I allowed my eyes to roam freely over his handsome face. He was an older, polished version of his nephew, with deep green eyes, unblemished skin, and a strategically stubbled jaw. The similarity between the two men was as unsettling as it was mesmerizing.
“Uh… Yes, sir,” I finally managed to say, wishing I could have said something less submissive. Damn his superiority. This was the psycho who was having me watched, and who was controlling the man I loved. I hated him, yet I called him sir. I instinctively showed the man respect, even when I knew he didn’t deserve it.
“I’m surprised you’re still hanging around,” he said. “We’ve hired a real PR firm to handle Michael’s public image. There’s really no reason for you to keep trying to insert yourself where you’re not wanted.”
“Kage invited me.” My simple, childlike answer infuriated me, because it was all I had. I felt unarmed against him.
“Yes, I imagine he did. He loves to rebel against me, you know. Always has. If he thinks I won’t like it, he makes it a point to do it. So of course the minute I told him I didn’t approve of you as a publicist, he went overboard to get you as involved in his career and his life as he possibly could. If I could stop pushing the issue, he would get bored and move on. The problem, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, is that the Santori’s have a stubborn streak. We each want to force our will on the other. It’s a fault.”
I glanced up at the stage, hoping for moral support from Kage. His eyes were focused dead on Santori, and the contempt within them was unmistakable. In fact, the two of them were staring at each other like animals, and I was just a scrap of meat.
Then Santori smiled at him and held up his hands in mock surrender. I was pretty sure he didn’t mean it.
He turned to face me for the first time since he’d sat down. The smile still ghosted his lips, but his eyes were untouched. “You break up with Michael, or I’ll disown him. Do you hear me? He’ll have nothing, and it will be all your fault. I could also put in a call to your professor, and one to the dean of your school. Sexual misconduct is an embarrassing blemish to have on your record.”
“Do you speak from experience?” The comment was stupid. I guess my inner smart-ass didn’t give a damn who Santori was, or that he would not hesitate to smash my hopes and dreams. And possibly my ankles.
He kept his cool, though, as he stood and walked away. The man was nothing if not controlled. I thought again how much Kage resembled him, both in appearance and in demeanor. But Kage had that rough-edged quality that made him more human than Santori. He was a big, rough teddy bear, and right now I just wanted to curl up against his chest and let him wrap me up in those muscled arms. I couldn’t imagine his uncle ever holding that kind of appeal for anyone. He was handsome, but there was no humanity there. Peter Santori was more a machine than his nephew would ever be.