The Gender Game by Bella Forrest (motivational novels .TXT) 📕

kept my hat low on my forehead as we made our way to his motorbike. As he stowed his bag beneath the seat, I dared break the silence.

"I have a new name for you, by the way," I said.

He groaned, slamming the seat shut. He climbed on to the motorbike and I slid on behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist.

"Do you want to know what it is?"

"I'm sure you're going to tell me anyway," he grunted.

"Viggo 'The Victor' Croft."

He kicked off and joined the road. Beneath the roar of the engine, I caught him mutter, "You have a nerve, Violet Bertrand."

22

There was bad traffic on the way back to Lee's. Apparently, there had been a major crash on one of the highways, which caused a ripple effect of solid jams throughout the city. Viggo ended up completely retracing our route, even back past the Brunswick, to take a longer route home. He rode through the city closer to his side of the mountains, northwest of the palace. It was a relief to leave the noise and smoke behind as we climbed the mountains; the fresh air, tinged with the scent of pine, was bliss.

It was a mild night. Viggo got hot beneath his coat at one point; I helped peel it off his shoulders and kept it on my lap so he wouldn't have to stop to remove it, leaving me to feel the muscles beneath his t-shirt as I resumed my hold on him.

Viggo smelled like the pines. Rugged, virile. Maybe it was because he lived out here. The ends of his loosened hair touched my forehead as I rested my cheek against his back. I felt sheltered, safe. Truth be told, I was feeling sleepy now, too, and I closed my eyes for the rest of the journey.

By the time we thundered into Lee's drive, it was later than Lee had been expecting. The kitchen lights were on, the blinds half closed.

I got off the motorbike.

"Good night," I whispered.

"Night," he murmured.

His eyes glinted in the moonlight as I held his gaze a few seconds longer before turning and heading to the house. As Viggo had done the night before, he waited until Lee had opened up before riding off.

Unlike the night before, Lee was still dressed in his work clothes. A navy blue suit.

"What took you so long?" he asked as he closed the door after me. His face was tense.

"A ton of traffic," I said. "We had to go a roundabout way to get here."

We moved into the kitchen. When he offered me dinner, I accepted it. As he went about heating something up, he asked, "So how was Viggo? What did you talk about?"

"He won in the second round," I said. "It was great. I waited right by the cage and watched up close—I wore my cap, of course. And after the fight some agent from the PFL came to see him in his changing room. I've been trying to encourage Viggo to move up to his level, and when the agent offered him a new contract tonight, he finally accepted it."

The spoon Lee had been using to stir a saucepan dropped to the stove with a clatter. He spun around to face me, his expression shocked.

"You encouraged him to do that? What were you thinking?"

I stared at him in confusion, my lips parting. "I-I don't understand."

"Why would you encourage him to move up to the PFL? It didn't occur to you that this could mess up his entire schedule? His training, his fights! For heaven's sake, Violet. I warned you not to lose focus!"

I found myself stumbling for words, unsure of what to say. Lee was right. I hadn't given the slightest thought what consequences might ensue if he joined the PFL. His entire schedule that I'd gone to the trouble of noting down could be turned on its head. For all we knew, Viggo might be offered a PFL fight on the night of the banquet.

"As it stood," Lee went on, "that night was completely blank for him. He even had a night off his duties as a warden—I checked. He was to be replaced by someone else that evening. We had this all battened down, dammit!"

Lee sank down in a chair, running his fingers nervously through his hair.

My breathing quickened. What had I just done? Of course, Viggo might've accepted the contract anyway. Mr. Sands and the contract might've been enough to convince him… though I couldn't help but feel that my encouragement had played a part in it. Viggo was a stubborn man. He might not have even heard Mr. Sands out if I hadn't been there encouraging him to listen.

"Oh, this is a mess," Lee breathed. "A complete mess… Did they discuss the next fight in the changing room? Any kind of schedule at all?"

I shook my head. "No. The agent just said that he would be in touch tomorrow morning."

"He might even shift gyms for this. How are we going to figure out his updated schedule?"

"I-I could just ask him when the fight is."

Lee let out a breath, still looking irritated.

The smell of burning filled the room. Whatever Lee was heating up was getting ruined. But he could hardly bring himself to care. I had lost all my appetite now, anyway.

Crap. What have I done?

I sat in my chair, frozen, watching Lee tentatively as he buried his head in his hands. Then, with a deep sigh, he raised his head and looked me. "I'm just… trying to understand how you could have possibly thought that encouraging him was a good idea."

I was thinking of Viggo, of him being paid more and treated better.

"I’m sorry," I said. "I've been trying to make friends with him and I… I slipped up."

"We can't afford slip-ups. And do I need to remind you that my life is on the line just as much as yours is in this?"

"I know,” I said through clenched teeth. Even though I