The Gender Game 5 (The Gender Fall)(102)

Holding out my arm to Ms. Dale, I smiled as she rolled her eyes at me before slipping her arm through mine. “Whatever you say, Jacob.”





34





Viggo





Anello Cruz stared at me, his dark eyes studying the planes of my face, a half-asked question floating in them. It was taking everything I had to keep from adjusting my hat or my spectacles again.

Jeff stood by Cruz’s side in the lobby of the stadium, which we’d reached one minute late, after having to explain to a curious but gullible doctor that our entire family had gotten lost during a visit to a relative in the hospital. The former valet’s suit was well tailored, colored navy blue instead of the standard black. He stood with a straight back, a smile playing on his face as he introduced each one of us to the fighter. Cruz’s suit was a bit more ostentatious—a deep purple in color, a black shirt slightly visible underneath—but he wore it well. Nothing else about the man had changed from what I remembered. He was still muscular and tall, close to my height, although he probably had several pounds of muscle on me.

“It really is a pleasure to meet you, madam,” Cruz said, his eyes withdrawing from mine as he leaned stiffly over to press his lips against Ms. Dale’s hand.

Ms. Dale tittered—a sound so unfamiliar I had to hide my cringe—and then affected a truly horrible pout as she reluctantly drew back her hand. “No, really, the honor is all mine! I was—am—such a fan. It really is unfortunate about all this.”

Cruz straightened, nodding in agreement, but his smile seemed to grow despite the sad tidings they were supposedly discussing. “I wholeheartedly agree, of course. It is a shame about all this. But we survive, eh? Learn to carry on. And who is this lovely gem behind you?”

Amber, somehow—I couldn’t imagine how—managed to blush as Anello’s eyes fell on her, and she released Cad’s arm to come over to him, her hand outstretched and trembling as she slid it into his for a light shake. Cruz leaned over to kiss it, and Amber gave a little catchy gasp, her flush deepening.

“Mr. Cruz, it is so… I mean… words cannot describe how much of an honor… oh dear.” She reached down and tugged her skirts, looking completely flustered.

Cruz laughed, a warm, throaty sound, as he released Amber’s hand. “Please relax, my dear. It is quite all right. I promise I won’t bite.”

Amber burst out into a giggle, and suddenly, I was disappointed Violet wasn’t there to see this display. It didn’t seem like it was going to be difficult to get dirt on Amber after all… I was going to have plenty to tell Violet.

“I’m sorry,” the redheaded girl gushed, smoothing her skirts out. “I’m just so nervous. I am such a big fan. My name is Vivian. I’m Auntie Marks’ cousin, although I just call her Auntie Abigail. She practically raised me since I was nine.”

“I did raise you since you were nine,” Ms. Dale said smoothly. “And let me tell you,” she added to Cruz, “this one was a handful.”

Amber flushed prettily while simultaneously pouting. Turning around, she reached out for Cad and drew him forth. “This is my fiancé,” she gushed. “Kurtis. Kurtis MacDougall. He’s not quite as handsome as you, Mr. Cruz, but he’s the love of my life.”

Cad gave her a mortified look, and then turned to Cruz, shaking his head, almost ruefully. I wondered if Cad was having any doubts about this act now, but it was too late to back out.

“Hello, Mr. Cruz.” Cad’s voice was stiff as he accepted Cruz’s hand, gripping it tightly. I could hear Violet’s cousin grunt as Cruz squeezed back, but he didn’t back down, instead firmly meeting the taller man’s gaze. Then Cruz slowly withdrew his hand, giving Cad a brilliant smile.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. MacDougall.” His eyes returned to me, and I stepped forward.

“Jacob. I’m Jeff’s younger brother. Much younger, I know.” I held my breath as he accepted my hand, squeezing it tightly. I didn’t bother to play the male posturing game Cad had played with him, just squeezed a polite amount and relaxed my grip, indicating the handshake should be over.

Cruz didn’t let go, his fingers tightening slightly. Then the light of recognition flared in his eyes. “Your name isn’t Jacob,” he said softly. “You’re Viggo Croft. You’re that punk who was supposed to fight me but didn’t have the stones to show up.”

I met his gaze head on and scowled, though my heartrate had shot up at the sound of my real name. Now wasn’t the time to panic… it was just the other shoe. Dropping. A part of me had expected this.