Three seconds. I didn’t know that’s how long it takes for me to blink.
I feel heated tension rolling behind me and don’t turn around. Grayson doesn’t respond, but based on how the other man grows silent, I assume something was said, just without words.
“Later,” Sarah says, leaning in to whisper, “you’re going to tell me what in the heck is going on, how the Legend knows your name, and why we’re being escorted out of here in a throng of some of the sexiest men I’ve ever seen.”
I glance at her out of the corner of my eye.
She’s grinning so wide I see all her teeth, and her hands clasp in front of her in a praying motion. “Now which one do I get?”
I swallow, trying to find my voice, only to discover I lost it somewhere near my seat. With a shake of my head, I look away when she giggles. This is my worst nightmare coming to fruition.
The men in front of us come to a sudden stop. They’re so quick that I slide on my heeled shoes and almost hit their backs. Then a door is opening to my right, and that same warm and bandaged hand returns to my back and I’m being pushed through the doorway.
The door bangs shut behind us and I turn around.
Which, really, that was a mistake. Now I’m face to face with Grayson Legend for the first time in six years. And based on his scowl and his glare and his heaving chest, his fists propped on his hips, and a deep line between just above his slightly crooked nose, he’s not just unhappy…
He’s really, really pissed.
“How are you?” I ask. Perfect. I find my voice and that’s what I ask.
His scowl deepens. He also doesn’t say anything, but with quick, furious movements he begins ripping off his gloves and small pieces of tape from his hands until he’s flinging pieces onto the floor in the space between our feet.
“Um,” I start and then shut up again when his eyes glare at me. A wave of anger washes over me before I can stop it. My hands fly to my hips and I return his angry look. “Listen, Grayson. I don’t know what the hell is going on, why you just manhandled me in front of thousands of people, but I want to go and I want to know where Sarah is.”
And crap! He just manhandled me in front of thousands of people! On live television!
I blink the thought away. It’s too much to handle.
The silence continues, which only increases the speed and warmth of the blood rushing through my body. What an asshole! Six years it’s been, and he can’t even say hello?
“Answer me,” I snap. When he doesn’t, I try to move past him. I need to get out of here, find out wherever the hell Sarah disappeared to, and then I’m going home.
This is why I want cats. You don’t expect them to answer when you speak to them, but they still give some indication they heard you. Not like this mountain of unmovable muscle in front of me.
“I’m trying to figure out,” he starts to say, his words slow and deep, “if I want to fuck you first, or yell at you and then fuck you.”
My head snaps back. “What?”
“You heard me.”
He takes a step toward me. I shuffle back, my heels squeaking on the cement floor.
Something prickles at the back of my neck as he, like the predator he is, takes another step and I continue to scuffle backward until my backside hits a table.
“Oomph.”
His lips twitch—just a hint of movement that is most definitely not a grin. No, the look he’s giving me with his narrowed, deep blue eyes is not the least bit humorous.
With his longer blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, and thick, straight brows that are more like slashes, he looks downright scary and intimidating. I feel that fear pulse along my skin, warning me. It’s fight or flight time and I’m too shocked to do either.
I’ve never been that smart or quick, though.
“I want to leave,” I say, although it’s more like a stammer. My fingers curl around the cool metal table when he presses against me.
He shakes his head back and forth, just once, but it’s enough. “Why are you here, Kennedy? Come to see me fight? Want to see me up close? Find out how much I’ve changed since we last saw each other?”
Considering the last time we saw each other I was too busy picking up the pieces of my heart he had just shattered, I have no response.
I shake my head, my voice box once again lodged deep in my throat.
“Did you want a reunion ? One more night with me?”
I blink rapidly. I can’t even believe he’d bring that up. The smirk tells me he remembers clearly.
Something cold flashes in his eyes and he leans over. I have to lean back so he doesn’t touch me. We’re close enough that I feel his breath skate along my cheek. His hands come out, and he places his palms flat against the surface just outside my hands, caging me in.
“I’ve missed you.”
“Fuck you, Grayson,” I whisper harshly. “You’re the one who left.”
“It was for your own good. You look good, K.” His voice is a whisper. His nose brushes along my cheekbone, and I hate that I feel my body responding to that one simple stupid touch. I close my eyes and turn away from him.
My own good. Too bad he doesn’t know how my life fell to crap afterward.
Ignoring his comment, I opt for honesty. “Sarah brought me here for my birthday.”
Silently, I wish for a vacuum to suck the words back into my mouth and learn, for just once in my life, to think before I speak.
The damage is done, though, because Grayson jumps back away from me.
My body instantly feels the loss of his skin and body heat so close to mine.
“Your birthday.”
I open my eyes at his tone. He sounds almost…sad.
Swallowing, I nod. “July 20.”
His lips part, softening the hardened lines of his jaw and cheekbones.
Before I can say anything else, or understand why I suddenly feel so confused all over again, so cold and so warm at the same time, Grayson takes two large steps to the side and grabs a duffel bag sitting on the floor. He rifles through it and throws on a white T-shirt that stretches around his biceps before tossing the bag over his shoulder.
I stand mesmerized at his quick and efficient and completely sexy movements.
“Come on, we’re getting out of here.”
I glance around the room, and for some stupid reason I hate his voice now. It’s distant, like he just shut off and shut me out—just like he did all those years ago.
I don’t get his sudden mood swings, but I’d almost rather be listening to him talk about fucking me again than hearing this sudden tightness in his voice.
“Come on,” he says again, this time less patient.
I’m just pushing off the table when he slams the door open.
We’re greeted with more flashing lights and shouts. People crowd the hallway just outside the door. I can barely see them over the two men in white shirts standing in their way.
Black angel wings are inked onto the backs of the shirts, the name LEGEND scrolled above them in a gothic-type print. They’re the shirts his crew wears into the cage areas before a fight, and I know they’re with him.
I’m not given much time to process what’s going on before Grayson wraps his hand around mine and pulls me toward him. He wraps that arm around my lower back, his hand settling on my hip.
“Anders,” he clips. “Let’s roll.”
The bald man looks at us over his shoulder and grins. “Seems as if the Legend is doing everything fast tonight.”
His eyes dip and scan my body. I fight the urge to cover myself although I’ve never been ashamed of my body. I’m not model thin. I have curves. I also like them.
“Enough,” Grayson snaps. “Unless you want to be knocked out like Mancuso.”
The man winks, loses his grin, and turns back around.
I go with them, no less confused than I was just minutes ago when we entered. I also have no choice since his hand has a firm grip on my hip.
I am, though, more in awe of Grayson. Hundreds of people must be lining this hallway as we’re ushered out of the tunnels and then out the arena exit doors.
They all shout for him. Women scream his name—scream the things they want to do to him. Men wave papers and posters in the air, shouting their congratulations and yelling requests for autographs. Children sit on their fathers’ shoulders, their little fists pumping into the air.
All of them, every single one of them, are there for Grayson.
“Wow.” It’s more of a breath than a word, but as I’m ushered into a large black SUV and Grayson pushes me in, taking the seat next to me, I’m amazed. I know he’s hugely popular. I know the name Grayson “The Legend” is the most famous name in the UFA right now. But without experiencing the absolute enormity of how vastly different his life truly is now, it was all…something vague and unfathomable.
“They’re all here for you,” I say quietly, the awe still in my voice. I can’t even try hiding it.
Grayson stares out the window as the other men climb into the front two seats. The SUV quickly pulls away when I swear I hear Grayson mutter, “Yeah, they all want me.”
He doesn’t sound as impressed as I feel right now, and I open my mouth to say something —anything—when he snaps, “Hotel. Now.”
“Aye-aye, el Capitán.” The bald man in the passenger seat turns around and flashes me another wink before facing forward again.