Page 2 of Bought By Torch

Lucky son of a bitch. While Hemsworth is getting his dick sucked by a pro, I’ll be babysitting his kid.

I swing at the bag, and it narrowly misses Deuce on the return.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to your workout. I’ll shoot you Evian’s flight info as soon as I get it.”

Another punch to the bag. Even her name is obnoxious. It’s like that fancy water rich people drink.

I let out a sharp exhale as my mind runs through a hundred ways I’d rather be spending my weekend—none of them are catering to a billionaire’s daughter. I hear the door bang closed behind him and I turn and walk over to my phone, wanting to see what this girl looks like.

Before I have a chance to pull up her picture, I see a missed text.

Roller:Yo man! I’m getting shit booked for the fight next week. Was told you’re next up in the ring. You up for it or you want me to get someone else?

After having to spend my weekend babysitting a rich brat, I’ll definitely be up for it.

Me:The Exterminator is always up for it. Who am I going up against?

Roller:So far, I’ve got the Barracuda and Crusher booked. You think you can take them both?

Do I think I can take them? I’m undefeated. Question is whether they’ll still be breathing by the time I’m done with them.

Me:All your money better be riding on me. You should find out how much their managers will pay to return them alive. LMAO.

He knows I’m not kidding. The extra payout comes with the biggest players because their managers don’t want to lose their cash cows.

Roller:Ourmembers will probably pay more for you to return them in a casket.

He’s probably right. Our members would pay double for me to take out the biggest contenders in the circuit.

I put my phone down and walk back over to the bag, pulling it back into place. I crack my knuckles then slam my fists into it, punching it harder with every hit. Beating into it until my knuckles are raw and red. The bag swings wildly, the chains whining like it’s begging me to stop. I’m going to take those twomotherfuckers down. And I’m hoping those mobsters will have a front-row seat. They’ll get to see who officially runs this city.

2

Evie

“Damn, I’m excited!” Caleb throws his suitcase right onto the pile of clothes I was packing, knocking half of them to the ground. He’s like a bull in a china shop, never paying attention to anything around him. “You know what they say, babe. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I pick up my clothes and stand. Is he trying to tell me he’s going to go sneak off and fuck some girl while I’m not looking?

“It means that maybe we’ll meet someone to join us.”

Here he goes again trying to push the threesome thing on me. I’ve already told him I’m not doing it, but he keeps persisting. As if the more he brings it up, the more likely I am to change my mind on the matter. It’s the opposite. Every time he mentions it, the only thing I change my mind on is how I feel about him. If I’m not enough for him, he’s welcome to go find someone who is. I don’t even think I’d cry if we broke up.

Which is why it’s time to end things. But not until after this trip.

My father is going to have a date with him this weekend, and there’s no way I’m getting stuck as the third wheel.

“It’s never going to happen, Caleb.” Not with me at least.

“Just for one night?” He practically whines, grating on my final nerve. “It’s a bucket list thing for me, Evie. I have to be able to say I had a threesome in my life. And Vegas is the perfect place because we’ll never see that person again. We don’t even have to ask her her name.”

Gross. I can only imagine what kind of souvenir we’ll be coming home with. Instead of a shot glass, we’ll be bringing home an STD. I think there’s only one way to get him to stop.

“Fine. If we find a hot guy that I’m into, he can join us.” I turn back to my packing, biting back my laugh.

Three… two… one…

“Hell no! I’m not fucking gay.”