Mr. Beautiful (Up in the Air #4)(13)

I opened my mouth to say something scathing, but Bianca beat me to it.

"Just go away.  Leave him alone," she told the man in her coldest voice.  "Give him space."

The man lifted his hands, as though to show he meant no harm, and still smiling, walked away.

"He's a parasite," she said vehemently when he'd left.  "If we never set eyes on him again, it'll be too soon."

I couldn't have agreed more.

We stayed in the room long enough to ascertain that the other fighter was definitely still alive, and there was a chance he'd stay that way.

When the doctor pronounced this to the crowd, there were more boos than cheers.

I thought I might be ill again.

I went on autopilot as Bianca led me away to a dimly lit bathroom in the back of the building.

She lifted off my shirt, washed me, and tended to me like I was a child, fussing over the cut in my side, and I let her.

She left, snagged some supplies from the doctor's bag, and came back quickly.  She cleaned the cut, worrying over it.

I soaked in her loving ministrations.

"The doctor said he'd come back here to check you out after he finishes with the other guy."

I just nodded, feeling disconnected.

She'd taken the money from me and counted it to make sure it was all there.

"Four hundred dollars.  Let's get a room tonight, okay?  You need to take a nice hot shower and sleep in a soft bed."

I didn't argue.  This was the usual pattern after a fight, one of the few things that made it worthwhile to hurt people for money.

Four hundred dollars, I thought.  I was willing to do that to a man for four hundred dollars, to beat him beyond recognition.

I swallowed hard, taking deep breaths to keep from gagging.

I had no notion of how much time might have passed before the doctor came to check on me.

He didn't do much, or didn't take long, but it seemed to reassure Bianca to let him tend to the scrape of a knife wound.

"Will he live?" I croaked at him.  I'd been working up the courage to ask him since he'd walked in.

"Yes.  He won't be pretty, but he'll live."

I breathed easier, but only a little.  I nodded and thanked him.

There was a weekly budget rental place within walking distance, and I stayed outside while she went into the office and got us a room for the night.  It was one of the few places that took cash and didn't ask for ID.

I stiffened when I saw who was behind the reception desk, but Bianca was already heading back to me, key in hand.

"Don't ever talk to that guy," I told her, my voice harsh with fear.  "Stay away from him."

She studied me, her tragic eyes seeing everything.  "Oh Stephan, what did you do?"

I flinched.  "Don't.  Please."

She moved into me, wrapping her arm around my waist and leading me.  "He wouldn't take any money.  Said you'd settled up the last time we were here."

Her tone held not an ounce of judgement, but instead a world of pity and grief.

"Please.  Don't," I said again, suddenly wanting to cry.

"I love you," she said calmly.  "More than my own life, I love you."

I didn't respond, too occupied blinking away tears.

"What did he make you do?" she asked when we'd stepped into our room.

I looked around, avoiding her eyes now.  At least it was clean.  Mostly.

"It doesn't matter," I told her.

She wasn't innocent.  She'd seen too much for that.  But she was pure, and I wouldn't corrupt her ears or mind with the filthy thing I'd done to pay for our room the last time we were here.

"Oh Stephan," she uttered softly, her tone undoing me.

I shook my head, swallowing hard.  "I'm going to shower."

She let me go.

I didn't hurry, but I didn't linger either.  I needed to get clean, but it would take more than hot water and soap for that.

I crawled into bed still damp and waited, trembling, while she took her own shower, and joined me.

I wrapped myself around her, burying my face in her clean wet hair.  Just a few deep breaths and I already felt better.

"Did he hurt you?" she finally asked, voice muffled into my chest.  "Can you talk about it?"

I couldn't.  What could I say?  She knew what I'd done, or at least enough.  Explaining that letting him suck my dick, instead of the reverse, had made it palatable enough for me to accept was hardly going to make me feel better.

My long silence told her everything.  Her voice was clogged with tears when she spoke again.  "Don't ever do that again.  Please.  Promise me.  I can't bear the things you put yourself through."

I couldn't refuse her when she pleaded with me like that.  "I won't," my voice was thick and full of anguish.  "I promise."

We were silent for a very long time, but that was fine.  The contact was what I needed.

I did eventually recover enough to talk about it.  "I hate that part of me.  Hate it.  All I want is to keep you safe and never have to hurt anyone again."

Her chest moved against mine as she took a very deep breath.  "I know.  I'm so sorry."