Page 39 of Billionaire's Promise

"And you are?" He turns to me.

"Baron." I jerk my chin at him, and he turns to Sinclair.

"You sure you want to take him on? He seems in much better shape than you."

Sinclair scowls. "Just stick to your allocated role."

He twists his lips, then steps back.

Sinclair and I face each other.

"I let you off too lightly the last time," he mutters.

"Bullshit." I roll my shoulders. "We had polite company watching, so I spared you. This time, it’s no holds barred, asshole." I spring forward and bury my fist in his stomach. The breath rushes out of him. He stumbles back, only to recover as I swipe my fist forward. He ducks, swiping at me. I lean aside and his fist slides past my face. I aim for his solar plexus, but he swings first and catches me in the shoulder. The same shoulder he hit yesterday. Motherfucker. Pain sizzles up my spine; I shove it aside, aim for his forehead, connect. His head snaps back. I follow up with an uppercut. He evades me, lands his fist in my side. My ribs protest as sparks flash behind my eyes. Fuck me. I move back, circle, and he does the same. We move at the same time. Clash in the center, chest to chest, arms wrapped around each other. Forehead to forehead.

"Give up," he growls.

"Never." One arm locked around his shoulder, I aim for his ribs, but can’t get a hit in, as he continuously keeps moving...and me with him. We stay locked in the dance, trying to hit each other, failing, holding each other’s gaze. No way, am I going to blink first. Neither will he. Shit. He grabs the backs of my shoulders, thrusting his face into mine. "Give in."

"No fucking way," I snarl, pulling free, land a hit in his side, then I kick his legs out from under him. He falls on his back, and I follow him down on one knee, pressing my gloved hand against his windpipe.

The referee whistles.

I ignore it, bare my teeth at Sinner.

"You cheated," he snaps out.

"All’s fair in war. You were the one who taught me that, remember?"

"Is this war?" He raises an eyebrow.

I scowl down at him, then release him and rise to my feet.

"You two were only trying to kill each other, I take it?" Liam drawls.

"How did you guess?" I smirk, then turn and hold out my hand.

Sinner stares at it for a second, before reaching out and grasping it. I haul him up to his feet. We scowl at each other for a second, then he nods. "Good fight."

"Yeah," I glance down at his Italian loafers, "next time you should wear the right footwear. It makes a difference."

"You always did prefer to follow the rules," he muses.

"Yeah." I blow out a breath. "It’s why I joined the army."

"And how did that turn out for you?"

"I’ve seen better."

"Me too." Sinclair’s lips twitch.

"Your fighting skills have improved," I mutter.

"Yours haven’t." He smirks.

"I’ve been busy recovering from the aftermath of—"

He nods. "When we found out you had been taken again…" he shakes his head, "it fucking cut us to the bone."