Page 95 of Embriagado

My eye twitched.

“Of course I do,” I snarled.

“Sweet.”

He smiled.

Why was it so annoying, even more than usual?

“So, see you tomorrow, boss.”

The most odd thing happened then—I was left without words and instead watched him walking away first. If only I didn’t need him, I would have shot him dead.

Let me correct myself.

I didn’t need him. My plan did.

25

SANTIAGO

Sitting on my bed with the money I’d earned spread around me, I counted it. In just one month, I’d made six grand, and that was without my salary from the hotel. Sick, wasn’t it? When I used to box professionally, even winning first place didn’t give me as much, not even close.

“It’s not about the belts, Santiago,” Dad said, crouching to eye level with me. “Or about the win at all. It’s about how you get there and about this.” He knocked on my head. “That’s where your willpower lurks.” He pressed his fist to my chest. “And this. Your heart. Make sure it always stays pure.”

Taking a deep breath, I puffed out my chest. “Corazón de luchador.”

A big smile spread on Dad’s lips right before he ruffled my hair.

“That’s right, pibe. A fighter’s heart.”

Slumping down on the mattress, one hand tucked behind my head, I stared at the ceiling. Dad would be disappointed if he’d watched me in those last fights. Even though I played by the rules—despite Ariyan’s words—I was still fighting in an illegal underground club. But then again, Dad hadn’t bothered watching me fight while he was still alive, at least not after booze became his priority.

My stomach clenched with the memories.

There were times he didn’t dare to miss my fights and would always be there, sitting in the front-row seat, cheering me on. It gave me confidence, reassurance that if I looked down there, I’d find him—until it stopped, and he no longer showed up. But even then, I’d still glance at the empty chairs, hopeful. So yeah, maybe I’d made some bad choices, but why should I care about his legacy when he ruined it while still alive? A fighter’s heart, my ass. What fighter started a bar brawl only to get his ass kicked and die all alone in a back alley?

Not one I should look up to, that’s for sure.

But thinking about it now, wouldn’t it be sweet to have Ariyan in those first rows? My chest tightened with the thought, and I turned to my side. That asshole was one mean son of a bitch, making money off me, but at least he saw my potential. No one ever had in years, and that… that was something.

So next week, when you get into that cage, I want you to imagine fucking me, Mr. Rivas.

Fuck me, did I take him up on his words. It was the first time I’d thought about sex while fighting, but somehow, imagining thrusting inside him at the same time my knuckles turned red from blood made sense. I imagined my hips smacking against his skin to the sounds of my fists hitting my opponent’s face, and it’d gotten me hard. The same rush that took over me then got me all worked up now, and I slipped my hand down my body to cup myself. A low groan escaped me, and I squeezed my cock, which was slowly getting harder⁠—

The sound of the front door shutting, followed by Nacio’s voice, made me jump. Looking around, I saw the cash was still spread around me, so I quickly collected it from the bed and shoved it back into the shoe box I kept it in. I managed to place the box under the bed right before my door opened, and Nacio jumped in.

“Sup, bro?” he said, a dumb smile on his face.

“Nothing much.” I coughed, hoping it wasn’t obvious that I was a second away from jerking off. “You?”

Slumping on the bed beside me, he rested his head on my shoulder.

“It feels like you’re never home anymore,” he pouted, and I rolled my eyes because⁠—

“You need money?”

He nodded.