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Around the business, everyone called him the Macro. He was the man in charge, the one who gave the orders.

In the grand scheme of things, he stood above us all. All the fighters looked up to him, he had money, control, power. Everything they wanted, everything they all yearned to have a piece of.

But I despised him.

He schemed people, took them for all they were worth to better himself and those who protected his business. I didn't want to get Quinn involved in that.

He should have just let me deal with Nico.

I knew how to handle my own shit, I wasn't raised to be weak. The Macro would never allow any piece of his own flesh to be easily damaged or short of strength. That would have only brought shame to his name.

And shame was not something my father would ever allow.

At least I'll get to see him again.

The thought sent a rush of butterflies cascading down to my stomach, spinning like a whirlwind of a thousand wings fluttering inside.

What will go through his head when he sees me standing outside?

What if he doesn't come back with me?

He has to. I need him to.

If he decided to not take my father's offer, to turn and walk away; I needed my father to hear it from him. I couldn't go back empty handed, telling him Quinn said'no,'that wasn't an option. He would think I failed him, who knows what he'd do then.

I didn't want to think about it, the idea was awful. I'd seen him do horrible things, terrible things to get his way.

The cool metal of the turnstile grazed my hip as I passed through into the terminal. The doors slid open and I stepped inside the train. Looking around, I made my way to the nearest empty seat.

Staring out the large window, I rested my head against the glass. Quinn's face settled in my mind; his rugged jaw line, the small dimple that rested beside his lip when he smiled... He did things to me, things that I couldn't explain.

I want to feel his skin against my thighs, watch his face bury in my warmth.My hand softly ran over my shoulder as I pictured his chiseled jaw disappearing into my sex.

His arms with the colorful ink that coated each massive forearm, it's so fucking hot.

Tattoos were one of my weaknesses. They showed a fearlessness for pain; a mark of individualism. For some it's a memory, for others it's power.

Anyone who has a permanent tag on their bodies knows the pain it took to put it there, for most it's worn proudly and displayed.

Quinn's arms would look good draped over my body, wrapped around my stomach as his lips laid delicate kisses over my skin.I caught my reflection in the glass, pushing me back into reality.

What the hell am I thinking?

How could he have had this much of an impact on me?

Yes, he helped me out, but I could have done that myself. Shaking my head, I needed to get him out.

I don't even know him! Stop this Cadence! You swore off men like him a long time ago, and for good reason.

He was cocky, he wore his assertive nature on his sleeves. And if he did agree to what my father was going to offer him...

I wouldn't be allowed to have this crush anyway. I'm forbidden to have any type of relationship with the fighters. It's one of thefewrules my dad set in place. He doesn't want his guys to have any distractions.

And for me... Well, let's just say he had a whole different set of rules.

The screeching of heavy breaks signaled my stop. Standing fast, I just wanted to get there and be done with this whole thing.

A gust of wind flew through my hair as I stepped from the world below back onto the street. It hit my face with such force, my breathing paused, lungs seizing for a mere instant.