The Fall of Legend Read online

  I stare through the two-way mirrored glass and watch her as she works the room like she was born to do it. She effortlessly talks and shifts her focus, making everyone around her feel completely at ease. They’re all enraptured by her, as they should be, but she doesn’t even notice. Her red dress is bold, but no bolder than the confidence she wears like a second skin. She’s captivating. She belongs.

  I’ve never belonged anywhere. Not even in my own club, where I won’t show my face if I can help it, because I don’t want it plastered all over social media until I’m ready.

  It’s already on those fucking YouTube videos no one was supposed to be recording, and that’s dangerous enough as it is.

  Still, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like. Fuck, what would it be like to belong to her?

  The question stops me cold, and I shove it away.

  That can’t happen.

  It doesn’t matter that I’ve never felt this fucked up over a woman I’ve never even seen naked. It doesn’t matter that I’ve never wanted to taste a woman more.

  Fuck.

  I keep my circle small so no one gets killed. I haven’t lived in the shadows as much as possible for this long just to take the risk now.

  Or have I? Opening the club was always going to put me and my name in the public eye.

  Deep down, I’m ready to confront my past. Because it’ll only be so long before it finds me. A new name won’t hide my secrets forever.

  Fighting was a risk. I knew that going into it. But the money was worth it, and Moses wasn’t likely to follow the underground fights circuit way up north. Besides, every minute I trained put me in shape to be ready for the war that’s almost certainly coming, because his name hasn’t shown up in the Biloxi obits yet.

  “I’m going out there, Gabe. If you want to come, come. If not, stay here and watch where no one can see you. But I have a feeling you’re going to disappoint the lady in red.”

  Q walks away, his footsteps barely making a sound over the beat of the thundering bass.

  It’s now or never.

  I take one more look at Scarlett, with that wide smile on her face, holding out her glass of champagne for Astra to top it off.

  Fuck it.

  Here we go.

  Twenty-Eight

  Scarlett

  A hand lands on my shoulder and sparks streak down my spine.

  He’s here. He found me. I steady myself on my four-inch heels and pivot to face . . .

  Chadwick?

  “What the hell are you doing here, Scarlett? Jesus Christ. And that fucking dress. You look like a—” Chadwick cuts off whatever he was about to say, but from the disgust on his face, I can tell it wasn’t complimentary.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, and my fingers tighten around my champagne flute.

  Annoyed, he bounces his fingers off his forehead, gesturing for me to think about it. “You blocked my fucking number. I had to find some way to talk you out of this ridiculous snit you’re in so we can tell your father we’re getting married over Christmas.”

  I blink twice and stare at him.

  What in the actual fuck is he saying? My brain recognizes the language as English, but the words coming out of his mouth don’t make any sense.

  “Excuse me?” My cheeks are flaming hot, either from embarrassment or rage or both.

  “You’re excused—for acting like a petulant child. All I wanted to do was address your problems in the bedroom so we could fix that part of our relationship, and then we could move forward with the wedding planning.”

  I’m so shocked and confused that my gaze drops to my left hand, and wouldn’t you know it? There’s no ring there. I am indeed, not engaged, which means Chadwick LaSalle Jr. has lost his damn mind.

  I wave my bare left hand in front of his smug face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Chadwick, but you and I are—”

  “Sorting out our issues before we make it official. I know. That’s the plan, but now you’re acting like a fucking teenager and blocking me. It’s bullshit, Scarlett, and you know it. I don’t want to have this conversation here, but we are having it.”

  His index finger raises before me, and he shakes it as he continues his ludicrous speech.

  “And if this is all about me not wanting to come to your place? Well, it’s fucking hard to get a boner when I’m surrounded by trinkets and knickknacks—it looks like a goddamned Mother Goose nursery rhyme threw up in there—but I guess we’ll deal with that too.”

  My lungs burn as I hold my breath, praying I don’t explode and make a scene. My lips are pinched tightly shut.

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he bites out. “I’ll be waiting for you at your place tonight. So stop with the fucking champagne before you get another headache.” Chadwick grabs the glass out of my hand and finishes it in one gulp before handing it back to me. “Because I’m getting laid tonight, one way or another, and no fucking headache is going to stop me.”

  Bile rises in my throat at his words. Is he saying . . . is he seriously thinking that we’re having sex tonight? Whether I want it or not? My hands ball into fists as my stomach flips.

  “Scarlett? Are you—” Kelsey cuts her question short when she sees who is speaking to me—or really, speaking at me. “What the hell is he doing here?” she whispers.

  “Good to see you brought the help. Seriously, Scarlett? What is going on with you?”

  “Do we have a problem here?”

  A man’s voice joins the conversation. It’s deep and just loud enough that we can all hear him over the music and the crowd.

  “Listen up, buddy.” Chadwick spins around to face the man with black hair and deep olive-toned skin, who I automatically assume is Zoe’s brother, Q, because they look so much alike. “I’m having a discussion with my fiancée—”

  I hold up my left hand again and turn it back and forth, catching Q’s attention. “Funny. I must have missed the part where you proposed, because we are not engaged, Chadwick. We broke up yesterday when you gave me an ultimatum, and I thought I communicated exactly how I felt about it. Apparently, I wasn’t clear enough.”

  Chadwick reaches out and grabs me by the arm. “Apparently, I wasn’t clear enough. You don’t have a choice, Scarlett. This is what your father wants, and we both know you’re not going to do anything but exactly that.”

  Like a magnet drawing my attention, my gaze lifts over Chadwick’s shoulder and I see him. Right there. Standing in the shadows, just beyond Q.

  Gabriel Legend.

  But his blue eyes aren’t on me. They’re on Chadwick’s hand where it’s wrapped around my arm. Legend’s nostrils flare, and he stalks forward. The crowd moves aside, clearing a path for him as if he’s a dangerous beast, rather than a mortal man.

  The deep timbre of his voice vibrates up my spine along with the thumping bass when he speaks.

  “Take. Your. Hand. Off. Her.” Each word is a sentence of its own, carrying the weight of bloody threats if Chadwick is stupid enough not to heed his warning.

  Chadwick whips around, his fingers now digging into my skin as he jerks me along with him. “Who the fuck do you think you are? No one tells me what to do, you—”

  Legend takes a final step forward, and the raw power of his presence should make Chadwick wet his khakis. “You’re under my roof, and I will bury you here. You have one second to decide your next move. Think fast, kid.”

  Legend delivers the grave warning casually, which is almost more terrifying than if he were yelling. Except, I’m not scared.

  No, I feel alive.

  I shake my arm, drawing Chadwick’s attention, and he sneers at me.

  “You’d better fucking tell me that this isn’t why you’re here. Trolling for dick, so you can get laid. No. What the hell am I thinking. That’s impossible.” He laughs, and it’s the cruelest sound I’ve ever heard. “Because you’re a fucking prude, Scarlett.”

  He drops my arm like I’m diseased and shakes his hea
d at Legend.

  “Good luck with her. You’ll need it. Her pussy’s so fucking frigid, it’ll freeze your dick right off.” Chadwick glances back at me as Legend’s icy blue gaze ignites. “I’m out of here. You aren’t worth a fight. You never were.”

  Chadwick walks away, giving a wide berth to Legend, and all I can hear is the sound of my own heart pounding in time with the music. The heat of humiliation creeps up my neck, probably turning my skin the same color as my dress, but I can’t look away from Legend to check the mirror.

  My gaze is held captive by his.

  I know he heard every word Chadwick said. About me being a prude. About my pussy being cold enough to freeze a dick off.

  Instead of dissolving into tears like I wish I could, I lift my chin higher and smile. “Being officially single for the second time in two days is a reason to celebrate. Who needs another drink?”

  Twenty-Nine

  Legend

  I could kill him. It would be too easy. And right now, I’d be completely justified in wiping that entitled little pretty-boy prick out of existence.

  My fingers flex, and my knuckles are ready to fracture his orbital and cheek bones. He wouldn’t look so pretty then.

  There are only two reasons I don’t move as the breeze from his escape rushes past me.

  One, Chadwick-the-douchebag is leaving, and hopefully the words he said guarantee he’ll never have another shot at the woman he’s walking away from. And two, Scarlett wants to celebrate, and I’m not going to ruin her night. Actually, that’s probably the only reason that matters.

  Nothing else could have stopped me from unleashing hell on that piece of shit.

  It only takes me a moment to realize causing a bigger scene would draw the attention of the crowd, so negatively impacting the club should have been on that list of reasons not to kill him too, but it was an afterthought at best. I should tell myself to get my priorities straight and focus on what matters, but with this woman in front of me, rational thoughts go right out the fucking window.

  Astra, our top server, sweeps in with another bottle of champagne, and tops off Scarlett’s glass. Scarlett’s friends crowd around her, all getting their refills too.

  Now it’s time for me to make an exit.

  I couldn’t resist the urge to come out here. To see her again. But it’s also time for me to walk away and never look back.

  I take one step, and Scarlett slips through the crowd to stop right in front of me.

  Jesus. She smells fucking incredible. I can’t even describe it because I’ve never experienced anything like it.

  I have to get away from her.

  “Thank you for taking care of . . . that,” she says, a tinge of pink darkening her cheeks. “I apologize for my . . . issues following me into your club. It won’t happen again.”

  She’s apologizing to me? Seriously? When I enjoyed scaring that preppy little prick?

  She continues smiling up at me with expectation, and I realize I haven’t replied.

  What the hell kind of spell did this woman cast on me? I try to snap out of it, but I find myself getting sucked deeper into those stormy gray eyes of hers.

  A prude? How could that fucker be so blind? There’s heat burning so close to the surface that wouldn’t take more than a single spark to ignite.

  His loss is my gain.

  As soon as the thought jumps into my brain, I shake my head and pull myself back to reality.

  I can’t have her. Remember that.

  “You don’t need to apologize,” I say, then clear my throat because there’s a lump in it that wasn’t there a minute ago. “You’re not responsible for the actions of everyone who walks through the door.”

  The music gets louder as the DJ spins with more intensity.

  Scarlett presses closer, until there’s only an inch between us, and for the first time in years, I’m afraid to move. I’m afraid to fucking breathe.

  She’s so damn close.

  So close she’s testing my self-control. Something I thought was ironclad until right now.

  She leans in, and I freeze.

  “No, really. I’m a professional, and when I make appearances, I don’t bring drama with me. It won’t happen again. Would you have a drink with us? Join the celebration?” Her lips are slicked with red, and her delicate tongue swipes across the bottom one.

  Fucking hell. I can’t stand this close to her. It’s not fucking safe.

  “I—”

  “I brought you a glass, Mr. Legend. Just in case,” Astra says as she hands me a champagne flute. Up here, for the VIP section, I insisted on crystal and not barware. The bubbles sparkle as they catch the light.

  Absentmindedly, I reach for it, but I’m trapped in the gray pools of Scarlett’s eyes. Somehow, I find myself clinking my glass against hers as a smile lights up her face and turns those eyes to quicksilver.

  What in the actual fuck is happening to me right now?

  I don’t think shit like this. I don’t feel shit like this.

  And then she fucking laughs. It sounds like pure, unadulterated happiness, and I realize I’m fucking screwed.

  Fuck. Me.

  I chug the champagne, not tasting a thing as I watch her drink, but my throat is dry. The longer I watch, the bigger her smile gets and the pinker her cheeks turn.

  No. She can’t . . . this can’t . . .

  In the middle of my denial, the air shifts behind me, and my self-preservation instincts roar to life. I turn my head, even though the last thing I want to do is look away from the most intoxicating sight of my life.

  Q stands just off to my side. “Mr. LaSalle is out of the building. Just thought you’d like to know.”

  His statement reminds me that I already fucking forgot there was a threat before it was even removed. That’s not like me. And from the raised eyebrows on Q’s face, he knows there’s something off about this situation.

  He looks from me to Scarlett. “Is there anything else we can get you, Ms. Priest? Zoe and I are happy to take care of anything you need.”

  Q is giving me an out. A chance to walk away, go back to my office, and let him deal with her. An out I should take.

  I never spend time on the floor of my club. I’ve always considered it an unnecessary risk. Moses will find me eventually, and I’m not interested in helping him do it before I’m ready. So, why are my feet glued to the floor like they’re encased in concrete?

  Q can handle this. Her. The whole thing. Zoe too.

  Yet, I speak. “I’ll take care of Scarlett tonight. I’ll handle whatever she needs.”

  Lines crease Q’s forehead, telling me he thinks I’ve lost my damn mind. And maybe I have. That’s the only explanation I have for what happens next.

  Thirty

  Scarlett

  I barely recognize myself, and with each glass of champagne, I care less and less. The alcohol’s buzz and bubbles go straight to my head—but they can’t compete with Gabriel Legend’s presence.

  Standing this close to him is exhilarating. Like inching nearer and nearer to the edge of the Grand Canyon because the view is incredible, but it would only take a stiff breeze to push me over. Or like walking up on a jaguar in a jungle, only to have it stand and study me before walking away, leaving me with a heart-stopping memory—but also the sense that I’ve been given the gift of an incredible experience.

  Legend isn’t a normal man. I’ve seen what he can do. He’s capable of ending a cage match in just seconds with a dominant display of brutality and skill.

  And he had a part in kidnapping me.

  That little detail alone should have me backing away until I’m at a safe distance, but it doesn’t. Because I don’t feel a single bit threatened by him. I feel . . . invigorated.

  The realization hits harder with the weight of the champagne behind it, but I’m not surprised. Somehow, I knew this would happen.

  I’ve felt drawn to him since the second I felt his presence while still wrapped up in that rug. Then i
t tugged harder with each video I watched. And yes, more still when I couldn’t keep him off my mind and came with his name on my lips.

  Then the handwritten note. Tug.

  And the private message. Tug.

  If I thought I was only building him up to be larger than life in my fantasies, I was wrong. Because the man I’m standing toe to toe with has his attention completely focused on me in a way that sends a charge through my body like someone plugged me into a wall socket. He is larger than life.

  And life is messy.

  Or at least, the life I want is messy.

  Even if I only get to have that messy life for a single night, I’m taking it.

  Tonight, all bets are off. Tonight, I’m going to live.

  “What I need, Mr. Legend, is to dance. Will you dance with me?” I hold out my free hand to him, the breath trapped in my lungs at my first daring request.

  The question shocks Q, whose eyes have been darting back and forth between me and his boss. “Ms. Priest—”

  Q goes silent when Legend’s big hand lifts to close around my outstretched fingers. His thumb brushes over my skin, and I feel it. The spark.

  It zips through my body as chill bumps rise on my arms, across my shoulders, and down my back. It’s like touching a live wire and learning you’re immune to its deadly power. I don’t know who Legend is to everyone else, but to me, he’s a beacon, drawing me in.

  “It’d be a privilege, Scarlett.” He looks to Astra, who is hovering not far behind me. “Whiskey. Three fingers.”

  A smile stretches my lips. “You need fortification?” I ask to be playful. I haven’t flirted in a long, long time.

  Legend’s lips twitch, but they never fully form a smile. More like a flash of joviality that he doesn’t want me to see.

  His head tips back and he looks down his handsomely rugged nose at me. “Maybe it’s for you.”