Spencer: Bad Boy MMA Cage Fighter : Bad Boy Fights The Fight Of His Life For His Girl! (An MMA Fight by P.T. Macias (distant reading TXT) 📕

Yeah, it’s best not to make friends because they will want me to do something for them to move up in the company. I know it makes me sound paranoid, but it’s happened before, so Father hates me to intervene in his business, as he puts it.

Too bad, so sad, peeps.

I stop in front of my Father’s office, staring at the closed door. I look around the hall, shrugging, rolling my shoulders back. I inhale deeply and exhale before knocking on the door even though I know that Father is expecting me.

I open the door walking into the office, looking around to see if he’s alone.

“Enter,” Father says, closing the laptop as I walk in.

Yes, he’s alone, and that’s great. I never know what he’s scheming. I can feel it; I have this funny ache in the center of my tummy. I know something is off.

I take a few steps into the office, closing the door. I look at Father, nodding. I walk over to stand next to his desk, crossing my arms, raising my eyebrow.

“Father,” I say, tilting my head to the side, smiling a small smile.

“Dior, you’re late! Take a seat,” Father says, scowling, shuffling some papers on the desk.

“I prefer to stand, Father. What’s up?” I ask, staring at him, clenching my teeth. My long golden-brown hair swings around my shoulders as I shift my feet. I stand straight, raising my chin high defiantly.

Father is up to something, and I’m not going to allow him to rule my life.

I’m a grown-ass woman.

I narrow my huge turquoise eyes, looking at him through my thick black eyelashes. I gaze into his eyes and at his lips, checking to see if he’s in a good or ill mood.

I just never know what he’s going to do. As far as I’m concerned, the less that he’s in my business, the better. I’m not a child, and I don’t need to be micromanaged.

“Dior, I learned from your brother William that a bastard tried to get smart with you at the club. I asked you to stop attending the Excalibur on your own. The club is not a place for you to pass your time. What’s the problem, Dior? I’ve asked you several times to behave like the high society young lady, like your sister, that’s what you are, but no, you fight me at every turn. You keep testing my patience. So, I’ve decided,” Father says, leaning back, rocking in his chair, purses his lips.

He taps his fat fingers on his desk, shrewdly looking at me, then he slowly smirks.

God!

My Father always likes to keep me in suspense; he always does this.

“Father, William is blowing the situation out of proportion, and I can take care of myself. I did take self-defense classes. Candance and Jillian are always with me when we go out, so I think that this is overkill. What do you mean, like my sister? Parris doesn’t like to go out because she’s always waiting for Xavier. You can’t compare me to her. What do you mean that you’ve decided? Decided what?” I ask, in a screeching tone, staring at him, trying to read him. I tilt my head to the side, furrowing my forehead, pulling her eyebrows up high, drawing them together.

“Dior, don’t raise your voice at me, young lady. I’m also concerned with Roger. I don’t like what I’m hearing from the soldiers. I don’t give a damn what you think. I’ve decided to have a guard at your side every second, and when you’re out, you will have a larger contingent of guards! I’m not going to risk that some bastard tries to get at me through you,” Father says, patronizingly.

He crosses his huge arms over his chest, tapping his fingers on his dark brown leather chair armrests.

“Father, it’s not necessary! I can take care of myself. I don’t need a babysitter. I already have guards 24/7,” I huff, rolling my eyes.

My black eyelashes fan across my eyebrows, turning away. I lift my arms up high, shaking my head, frustrated. I walk over to stare out of the window.

I can’t believe this!

What’s going on?

He’s been acting strangely lately.

I move my right hand up, shoving my golden-brown hair over my shoulder, inhaling deeply. I stare at him, exhaling, crossing my arms, fidgeting with my fingers; I grasp my arms. I chew on my lower lip, right at the corner when I’m nervous.

I know that he wouldn’t listen, no matter how much I beg. I wonder if he also hired a babysitter for my brother and sister, or did he only get one for me? Geeze, I’m so tired of this.

“Dior, I’m not asking your opinion, and I’ve already hired a guard for you. He’ll start tomorrow, so I’m asking you to go straight home after this and not to leave the house today,” Father says, pursing his lips tight in a straight line.

“Oh my god, Father! This is getting ridiculous! I’m not a child,” I say, raising my arms, tapping my right foot.

“I don’t give a damn if you’re pissed; you will do as I say,” Father growls, lifting his chin in dismissal.

Three

Spencer

The next day, I roll out of bed, cracking my neck, grabbing my cell to check the time.

Damn, it’s Sunday! I need to squeeze in a few hours of training at the gym. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to sleep on a Sunday, it sounds fucking great, but I can’t.

I push out of bed, grabbing my workout clothes from the chair. I pull my sweatpants to my slim muscular waist, pulling on my black t-shirt and black hoodie. The front of the hoodie has the Apollo logo in