Precious Legacy (The Notorious Legacy #1)

Chapter 17

SEVENTEEN

I t’s the official opening of Roman’s fight club, and the testosterone floating around the place is potent and toxic. A shiver runs down my spine the closer we get to the entrance of the warehouse, a reminder of why I was reluctant to come here in the first place. It’s nothing in comparison to my fear of The Ravenite, but the same circumstances left me with more scars than I care to admit. Unfamiliar places make me uneasy, but add to the fact I’m about to walk into a room full of intoxicated men, and I’m finding it hard to keep it together.

Cars are parked haphazardly and people amble towards the refurbished warehouse, laughing and talking. Music blares from inside, so loud it rattles the metal walls and pumps through my chest. All I can focus on is my pulse pounding in my ears.

“So, you and Roman, huh?” Haven nudges me as we walk through the crowded parking lot.

“Yeah,” I sigh.

“You wanna tell me more than that?” she quizzes with one brow raised in question.

I let out a laugh, nudging her back as we reach the entrance to the warehouse. A guard is standing at the door, one I don’t recognize but seems to know who we are. He lets us in with a nod of his head, stepping aside so we’re assaulted bu the loud music. “There’s nothing to tell.”

If I’m being honest, I don’t even know what’s going on myself. I’m not even sure I want to address it yet. Between my family and him, I’m a whole bundle of nervous energy.

“Uh huh,” Haven retorts. “And he hasn’t been spending every night with you?”

“Shut up!” I laugh again, averting my gaze to the crowd because Haven has an expression that I don’t want to mess with and one look in her direction might have me caving. She’s got me, though. Roman has been spending every night at my apartment, and I haven’t stopped him. Slowly, he’s wearing down my walls—the ones I spent five years building—and I don’t think I mind it at all. He’s still an asshole. I still want to rip his head off, but then he fucks me with all the purest intent and I forget why I’m even mad at him in the first place.

It’s fucked up.

The roar of the crowd is almost deafening above the music; the excitement palpable. Tonight looks like it’s going to be a successful one for Roman. The scent of alcohol is already flooding the wide space, bodies pushing past one another in haste to get to the front, creating waves of footfall.

I spot Roman without even meaning to, like I’m magnetized to him. His presence is like a shadow that clings to the recesses of my mind, dragging me in. He’s standing on the mezzanine, a balcony that looks to be set up as a VIP section so you get a full view of the blood and gore below.

He’s watching me, too, dressed in a black shirt and matching slacks that hug his body so deliciously it takes far too much effort not to drool. In the past few weeks, my hate for him has diminished, and I now experience a feeling that I had long forgotten. I can’t say I’m not enjoying it, though. He’s managed to take my mind off of the dark cloud lingering over my head, because after that failed family dinner last week, I’ve been stewing on it like crazy. I don’t know what I expected from my dad, but maybe some semblance of approval would have been nice. Then again, I ultimately knew what my career choice would mean for me and my family.

Roman’s gaze never leaves mine as Haven guides me towards the metal staircase that sits in the corner of the building. Haldon gives us both a nod of acknowledgment as we step onto the mezzanine level, but he’s too busy with some blonde in his lap to get up and actually greet us. Roman paces towards us like a predator, his eyes touring my figure as I step into his arms.

“Presh,” he purrs in my ear, hands sliding around my waist.

I slip my arms around his shoulders. Even with heels on, he has the height advantage—but I kinda enjoy pushing up on my toes to plant my lips on his.

His mouth connects with mine instantly, and even though I’m conscious of my brother standing behind Roman, it doesn’t stop me. It’s like my earlier nerves dissipate in an instant. The warmth of Roman’s arms around me settles the anxious energy and calms my heartbeat.

Our kiss only lasts a second or two before he’s pulling away, a frown creasing his devastatingly handsome features. “You’re nervous,” he states.

I let out a breath as my gaze travels over the sea of bodies below us. “There’s just a lot of people here.”

He stares at me for a moment, but he doesn’t question me. It’s as if he can sense the gravity of my worries because without a word, he takes my hand and directs me and Haven to a large leather couch set back from the balcony edge. Dropping onto it, he tugs me into his lap, arms caging me against his hard body. “Say the word and I close this place down,” he tells me calmly. “Fucking in a warehouse is definitely on my bucket list.”

I laugh lightly, melting into his embrace.

His blue eyes are on me, searching for more than I’m willing to give him right now. Still, I can’t help but lose myself in his gaze. For a moment, the world fades into the background and it’s just me and him.

Me and him, and my fears that creep out from the darkness.

But then a loud bell rings from seemingly out of nowhere and it zaps me from the connection.

I dart my gaze over the balcony, where I can see the edge of the ring set out in the middle of the floor. Bodies crowd around the ropes, roaring and cheering as two men enter from either side.

This isn’t a legal fight, nor is it official in any standards. It just looks like two men with beef for one another, ready to take out their anger on the other.

Roman bristles beneath me, and as I turn to face him, I catch the evidence of his own uncertainty flash across his face for a moment. It’s so quick that I almost miss it.

The fight begins and the crowd gets louder, drowning out the music until it becomes mere background noise. In the ring, the fighters circle one another. There’s a noticeable size difference with each contender, but I sense that doesn’t really matter here. They’re not here for fair fights, they’re here to fight dirty and win money.

Fighter one is tall. He’s lean and has height on his side, as well as a six pack to boot. Whereas his opponent is at least a foot shorter, but has weight on his side. He’s got shoulders for days, muscles rippling under the spotlight now pinned on the ring.

The first fist flies, the taller guy going in for the attack, and the crowd goes wild. It doesn’t make much of an impact, but it gets the shorter fighter riled up. He lunges for his opponent, going in with a left jab, right hook combination that knocks the guy sideways.

The atmosphere is toxic, an addictive combination of adrenaline and excitement that has me eager for a better view.

The fighters go through four rounds before the tall guy is knocked out, his long body lying prone on the ring floor while the winner parades around him.

“Show off,” Haven mutters, sipping her drink.

At some point between rounds two and three of the first fight, my brother brings over some drinks. He’s been giving me the silent treatment all week, though, so he doesn’t fully greet me like he normally would.

“You should talk to him,” Roman suggests from behind me. His arms cage me against the balcony edge, where we’ve moved to watch the second fight.

“I’m enjoying watching,” I reply.

“You’ve got ten minutes before the next fight, Lani. Go speak to him.”

I twist in Roman’s arms, glaring at him. Though I know that won’t do much because we both know I’m too fucking weak for him now. “Fine,” I snap, pushing one of his arms out of the way. “But you owe me.”

Roman smirks, his eyes alight with mischief. “I look forward to it.”

Spinning around, I head straight for my brother lingering on the other side of the balcony. He must sense me immediately, because he darts his gaze to mine, halting me in my tracks.

“I come in peace,” I jest, raising my hands in the air.

“Good,” he grumbles. “Because your mood swings are really starting to piss me off.”

Ouch. Alvaro has never called me out like that—while I know I can be a moody bitch, he’s always been cool with me. We’re twins, we look out for one another, and I care about him more than he realizes. “I just came to… you know… clear the air.”

“It’s not really me you should be talking to,” he mutters.

“I know,” I sigh, stepping forward to join him on the balcony. I rest my forearms on the metal bar, relishing in the cold comfort it brings to my heated skin. “I’ll speak to them.”

“What was that all about, anyway? One minute we’re talking about doctors, and then you’re snapping about some stupid shit.”

I bristle at his words, desperate to hold my tongue. Now is not the time to bite back. “I’m just going through some stuff,” I explain. “What Dad said rubbed me the wrong way, and I reacted.”

“You’re not a kid anymore, Lani,” my brother states, his tone filled with barely contained anger. “I don’t know what your problem is, but you need to get a handle on your anger.”

“Fuck,” I chuckle. “You’re really roasting me tonight.”

Varo snaps his head to meet my gaze. For an intense second, his scowl is like shards of glass cutting into me. But then his lips kick up into a smirk and he lunges forward to wrap one arm around my shoulder. “You fucking need it, Lani! You’ve been a pain in my ass for the last five years. What’s got you so fucking pissed all the time?”

“The world,” I joke, though it’s partly true. The unfairness of the life I’ve been brought into makes it hard for me to be content. The fact my trauma from five years ago still haunts me adds to my rage. My family means everything to me, but so does justice. My moral compass is so fucking skewed right now that it’s causing me to blow up all the time.

Most of all, it’s fear that enrages me. Fear that I’ll lose the people I love. Fear that I’ll disappoint my family further, or worse, fail at the one dream I’ve had since I was eighteen.

“The world is a shitty place, Lani. We all know that. But it doesn’t dictate everything.”

Easy for you to say.

I glance over my shoulder to find Roman watching from the couches behind us.

“He’s back for good, Lani,” Varo assures with a nudge of his elbow. “Whether he’s admitted it or not, he’s back for you, too.”

“It’s cute you think I care,” I retort.

My brother rolls his eyes. “You keep telling yourself that, Lani,” he laughs before leaning down. “Maybe you’ll believe it!”

We fall into a contented silence as the room roars to life once again. Two new fighters enter the ring, fists punching the air and their heads darting side to side like they’re fighting ghosts. We watch them take up their own corners as they’re announced, the place going crazy.

They must be well known, because panties are being thrown over the ropes, the screams of girls piercing my eardrums. Then the bell rings out to begin the fight, and we all watch intensely as fists begin to fly, precise and violent. Blood sprays, but the fighters continue with the same energy they entered with.

For the remainder of the rounds, I stand on the mezzanine with my brother. By the time the bell rings out to signal the end of the fight, though, Varo has disappeared with Roman and Haldon. I don’t see them on our level, but Haven is on the couches, talking to the blonde that was previously situated in her brother’s lap for the majority of the night.

I head over and drop into the seat beside her, snatching her drink out of her hand and taking a heavy sip of her vodka-cranberry before handing it back to her.

“Where did they go?” I ask.

She finishes her drink off and places it on the table in front of her. “Said they had to meet with some fighters,” she shrugs.

“Want another drink?” I nod to her empty cup.

“Please!”

Pushing up off the couch, I take the steps down to the ground level, spotting the bar not far from where I am. By the looks of things, Roman set up bars on either side of the warehouse—which logistically, is great thinking.

I head over to the one closest and join the queue. I’m sure there are quicker ways for me to get a drink since it didn’t take long before, but I just stand between the hoards of drunk guys and giggling girls, waiting my turn.

It doesn’t take long for the line to move, then it’s my turn. I order our drinks and the bartender quickly delivers. In less than two minutes, I’m heading back into the crowd, navigating my way to the VIP area.

Suddenly, a hard body slams into me, throwing me backwards and drenching me in a sticky mixture of liquor and soda.

“Shit! I’m so sorry!” A guy startles, reaching forward for my arm.

“It’s fine,” I huff, though it’s anything but fine. I can feel the liquid running down my legs and feet, and my arms are just as soaked. In fact, I think the entire contents of our drinks have covered me in an alcoholic layer.

“Hey! Don’t I know you?”

“Huh?” I glance up to get a good look at the guy who’s just ruined my drink and dress, and I immediately wish I hadn’t. I wish I had just continued walking, because now that I’m looking at him, I can’t even feel my feet. My blood runs cold, even under the heat of the stuffy room, and my spine feels like it’s trying to sliver out of my body.

Dark, menacing eyes greet me from beneath a baseball cap, only they look softer than I remember them. Soft, but mean. His identity is unmistakable, even if he’s trying to conceal it. I guess that’s what happens when you become famous. Everyone recognizes you and there’s no escaping it. The same way I can’t escape him. I’ve seen his face everywhere—on billboards, TV interviews, and in my nightmares.

“You alright?” he frowns, but I can’t seem to get my words together. I can’t seem to breathe at all. It’s like my lungs are frozen, oxygen turning to liquid and drowning me in my own fear. My heart races, beating so loud I can hear it over the crowd, over the music, over the voice in my head that’s telling me to run.

But I’ve never been good with self-preservation, so I just stand there, gaping like an idiot while my past catches up to me.

I never thought I’d have to see him again. I never thought I’d face Ashton Greedy, the guy who women would willingly fall to their knees for. Everyone but me, that is.

Another nudge from someone behind me jolts me out of my stupor, enough for me to spin around and dart out of the crowd. I weave through the sea of people, shoving between groups of bodies. But it’s not fast enough. My breath hasn’t caught up to me and it feels like the walls are closing in and the air is being sucked from the large space.

Just when my hope starts to evaporate, I spot the exit. The cold air calls to me and I sprint as fast as I can out into the night. I don’t care if I look like an idiot caked in booze and running from my past, I need to breathe .

The fresh air hits me like a hammer to the head, a rush of cold oxygen filling my lungs as I swallow back gulps of relief. I keel over, resting my hands on my knees and using the wall of the warehouse to keep me sturdy. Black spots dart in front of my eyes, and I can smell the alcohol stuck to my legs, which only makes me more nauseous.

“You okay?” A gentle voice asks. It’s not like the one before. It’s silky, laced with concern and tinged with an accent. Though I can’t make out what it is, it’s calming and comforting.

Inhaling deeply, I straighten myself up, coming face to face with soft eyes. There’s no malice in them, just genuine concern that has me relaxing slightly.

“Yeah,” I exhale.

“You sure? You don’t look it.”

I’m well aware I look like shit right now. Fear doesn’t exactly look glamorous, but I’m not about to tell a stranger that I’ve just come face to face with the last guy I ever wanted to see, because he’s only reserved for my nightmares.

“I’ll be fine,” I assure, taking another deep breath. “I just?—”

My words are interrupted by my brother’s sharp voice cutting through the air.

“What’re you doing here, Milo?”