Chasing What’s Mine by Ava Gray
1
Gemma
“This is exactly why I said I didn’t want to be late,” Aiden says, as he circles the block for the third time.
Cars are lined up on either side of the street and everywhere else we’ve looked for a parking space. TKO, the MMA training gym, is all lit up, music pumping out into the night, promising a killer party inside. If only we could get there.
“It’s not my fault Gemma hogged the bathroom for two whole hours,” Riley says, with a light-hearted chuckle. Then he adds, “I would’ve understood if it helped at all, but she still came out looking like a troll.”
“Hey!”
And because I can’t get to him in the back seat, Ciara lands a punch to his arm on my behalf.
“Ow!” Riley rubs his arm, nursing the tender area along with his bruised ego.
She’s officially my favorite of all his girlfriends.
“Stop being a dick to your sister,” Ciara says. “You haven’t seen her in months. Be nice.”
“Yeah, Dick, be nice,” I say, glancing over my shoulder just in time to catch him pulling a horrible face at me. “I came all this way to see your ugly mug, the least you could do is treat me like the Smith graduate I am.”
“Graduate this,” he says, and gives me the finger as he cackles with laughter.
I gasp in outright shock, and say, “I’m telling Mom!”
“Could you guys please quit it? I’m trying to concentrate. If you two don’t stop, I’m telling Mom.”
Riley forgets about me and reaches out to slap Aiden sharply on the back of his head. “Shut up and drive,” he says, laughing like a little kid.
Which sets off a whole other argument between the two of them this time. Ciara and I share a knowing look, and I shake my head as I go back to staring out of my passenger-side window. Having twin brothers is never boring. If they’re not ragging on me, they’re bickering with each other. Sometimes it’s hard to believe they’re six years older than me. Still, it’s moments like this that makes it feel as if I never left. It makes it feel like home.
“By the time we get there, the press party will have turned into a New Year’s Eve party,” Riley says.
His hands are deep in his jean’s pockets, and Ciara is hooked through his one arm as they amble along lazily. They make a really cute couple, and I have to stop myself from staring at them. This is supposed to be a fun night out, not me feeling sad about my deader-than-dead love life. So, I turn my attention back to the sidewalk we’re walking along. The night air is humid and buzzing with activity, typical for Vegas this time of year. It doesn’t matter where you go, there’s always this hub of people to have fun with and get the business done. A stark contrast from Northampton.
“Pick up the pace and we might make Thanksgiving,” Aiden says.
Riley enjoys the little dig and shouts out, with his arms raised above his head in victory. “Ladies and gentlemen, he’s finally loosened up!”
His theatrics aren’t out of place on the busy street, and we all get a good laugh out of it. Considering the nightlife in the city, my brother is actually on the normal side of the scale.
“Seriously, though, Aiden,” I say, after my laughter has subsided a bit, “you could’ve at least tried to get closer.”
He rolls his eyes at me without breaking his trudging step. “You were right there with me, Gem. Did you see any other parking spots?”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have gone for the heels,” Riley says. “Ciara went for the sensible choice, as you can see.”
“Leave my flats out of this,” Ciara says. “And leave your sister’s fashion choice alone. She looks great.”
She flashes me an approving smile, and I nod my appreciation. Ciara’s quickly becoming the big sister I never had, but desperately needed with Aiden and Riley around.
When we finally walk into the gym, I’m surprised by the transformation. I haven’t been back here in forever, but I remember clearly what it usually looks like. Gone are the mats and sweaty towels hanging from every fixture, and in their place are delectable spreads, champagne fountains, and some of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen in my life.
“It’s like we stepped into the Playboy Mansion,” Riley says, with a quiet wolf whistle, his eyes practically popping out of his head.
Ciara elbows him in the ribs. “I’m watching you, Casanova.”
But I sympathize with my brother because the place is teeming with scantily clad, drop-dead gorgeous model types. They’re handing out shots, posing for selfies, or just draping themselves over any available arm in the room.
I fiddle self-consciously with the narrow belt of my strappy summer dress. “I think we should start with drinks.”
“I think you’re right,” Ciara says, and walks with me over to the champagne fountain.
The whole area is awash in a golden glow emanating from the glasses that are lit from underneath, the bubbly continuously pouring down the careful tiers. There’s a couple ahead of us who grab two glasses from the bottom and move off to the side.
“Looks simple enough,” Ciara says with a shrug. “Let’s hope I’m not the Jenga idiot who makes this thing topple over.”
I hold my breath as I watch her slowly remove a glass from the tower. All sense tells me that it’s fine and these things are built to work this way. But I can’t help feeling like maybe she’s right and one wrong move will send the entire piece crashing to the floor.
“Maybe we should—”
My words are barely out of my mouth when Ciara turns to me with two glasses of champagne, her face lit up in victory.
“Cheers, girl.”
“Cheers,” I say, with a sigh of relief.
The bubbles tickle my throat with the first sip, and I instantly feel the drink going straight to my head. Like I knew it would; I’ve never been much of a drinker for this very reason.
“Are you always in your head this much?” Ciara asks. “Or is it just tonight, because your brothers dragged you out here on your first night back? Believe me, hanging out in a gym isn’t exactly my idea of a fun night out, either. So, you’re not alone.”
I scan the room absently and shake my head. “It doesn’t bother me. I know how close Aiden and Dax are, so it makes sense he’ll want to be here for this.”
And with that, my eyes land on just those two—Aiden and Dax, deep in conversation across the room.
It’s like my skin gets several degrees hotter and there’s not enough oxygen in the room. But I know the way I’m feeling has nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with the guy my brother is talking to.
I bite my lower lip between my teeth.
Dax has this thing about him that I can’t explain, but always fall prey to. It’s been there since I first met him at my parents’ auto shop, which now belongs to Aiden, when I was just fifteen. There were way less tattoos, but those tight muscles were bulging underneath his shirts already back then. His dark hair and heavy eyebrows always made his deep, dark eyes seem more intense. No matter what he was speaking about, I was enraptured.
“There you go again.”
I blink a few times and look at Ciara standing in front of me, an amused expression on her face.
“What?”
She chuckles to herself. “That’s what I want to know,” she says. “What’s so interesting in there that you keep disappearing?” She taps the side of her head and smiles.
“Nothing, sorry. I guess I’m still a bit jet lagged is all.”
But she eyes me suspiciously, not buying my excuse for a second. So, there’s something a four-year Pol Sci degree at Smith doesn’t give you—the ability to lie and do it well.
Luckily, Ciara’s the type of person who would rather drag her boyfriend over the coals than grill me about whatever it is she thinks I’m hiding. She’s noticed that Riley isn’t anywhere close to where Aiden and Dax are talking.
“I swear to God, Gemma, if he’s being an idiot, I’m making a scene,” she says, and goes off to look for him the crowd.
“Good luck,” I call after her, but she’s already blended in with all the other nameless faces around.
My social anxiety starts to kick in, the way it usually does when I’m in an uncomfortable space, and my first instinct is to hide. So, that’s what I do. Carefully weaving my way through indistinct chatter punctuated with fake laughter, I make my way to the back of the gym where I know the dark hallway by the locker room will keep me out of sight.
“Where do you think you’re slipping off to?”
My blood runs cold and goosebumps erupt all over my skin. I turn slowly and he’s right there, smirking at me, looking like a gift from the gods. And I’m left feeling like no time has passed, and I’m still the fresh-faced teenager with a life-altering crush.
“Oh, hey,” I say, immediately hating my voice for betraying my nerves so easily.
But he’s gracious enough to leave it alone. This is where Dax is nothing like my brothers, who never abandon an opportunity to make fun of me.
“Did you really think you’d get through the night without at least saying hi to me?”
His smile reaches his eyes with a mischievous glint. My cheeks are on fire and unfortunately, I’m still no good at summoning the earth to swallow me whole.
“I didn’t think you’d notice, what with the attention you’re getting from everyone else,” I say, motioning my head generally toward the room.
He waves a hand dismissively. “All part of the job,” he says. “It means a lot that the people I care about are here, though.”
I swallow hard.
“And the fact that Aiden managed to get you to come along, well, that’s just a bonus. How the hell have you been? How’s school? I want to hear everything.”
And he looks as though he really is interested in me. Little old me, who has nothing on the gaggle of models flitting around the room. I feel about ten feet tall.
“Well, school’s over,” I say. “You’re looking at a recent Political Science graduate.”
“Holy shit,” he says, laughing admirably. “Congratulations, Gem. That’s awesome. What are you doing to celebrate?”
“Well, I came home to touch base, but my friends and I are heading off to Hawaii in a couple of days.”
“Days of nothing but lazing by the beach,” he says. “Sounds good.”
The way his eyes graze over me then, taking me in from head to toe, it’s almost as if he’s imagining me there. I cross my arms over my chest, feeling as though I’m standing in front of him in nothing but my bikini. It’s insane the effect he has on me with just a look. What’s even more insane is that I’m having this kind of reaction over the absolute last person on earth I should be feeling this way about. Dax Daytona has never been anything but trouble. I know this. I need to remember this.
“So, how did the press conference go? Sorry we missed it,” I say, trying to steer the conversation in a safer direction.
“These things are all the same,” he says. “They fake interest in my strategies, and then try to rile me up about my opponent. Try to get in my head.”
“But it did work, right?”
He flashes a half-smile and says, “What do you think? I’ve been training for this my whole life. In four weeks, I’m taking that title, no questions asked.”
I shake my head, laughing lightly. “The arrogance of a fighter. Always thinking you’ve got it.”
“The arrogance of an academic,” he says, shooting back without hesitation. “Always thinking you’re right.”
Our eyes lock in that moment, and the air between us instantly becomes charged. No longer light and humorous but weighted with something else. Something I feel we’re both too hesitant to acknowledge.
“So, who’s the lucky girl in your corner?”
I immediately regret asking that. Because what the hell am I thinking? It’s none of my business, and asking that question is only going to make him think that I—
“Who’s the lucky guy in yours?”
His lightning-fast reaction reflex isn’t something exclusive to the ring, that’s for sure.
“You need to ask? I came here with my brothers,” I say with a shrug.
I can’t help feeling like I’m under some kind of intense scrutiny.
“Maybe next time you come around, don’t bring them along.” His voice is low when he speaks, and it sends shivers down my spine.
There’s no way I could be misreading this, is there? But just as the thought enters my mind, I see the look in his eyes, and I know. I read it perfectly clear.
“It’s been a while,” he says, stepping closer to me. “We should catch up. Without all of this chaos going on.”
Catch up. Is that code for something? My body clearly wants it to be because I’m achingly aware of the knot twisting in my belly. The warmth rising between my legs. It’s as though for all my efforts to escape the crowd, all I needed was to be fixed in Dax’s gaze, the heat from his body emanating through the infinitesimal space between us, making me catch fire. We’re entirely alone in this gym.
In the world.
“That would be nice,” I say, and swallow again. Hard.
What am I doing?
The wrong thing, Gemma. The most wrong thing of all wrong things ever. I can just imagine the look on Aiden and Riley’s faces. My mom’s face. Oh God, my dad! It would be enough to bring on another heart attack for the old man.
“There he is!” A loud shriek pierces the bubble around us, and a group of girls descend on Dax in a flurry of giggles and groping.
“We were looking for you, Daxy baby,” says the one wearing a half-cup bra as comfortably as if it were a sweater.
The one with flaming red hair cascading over her shoulders holds up her cell phone and asks, “Can we get a selfie?”
Without waiting for a response from Dax, they all huddle closer to get in the frame, their faces are blank mirrors of what’s happening inside their heads. Or not happening, for that matter. It’s a stretch to think of them as having more than the one brain cell it takes to aim a camera lens at themselves. And even though this is supposed to be a posed photo, their hands are all over him, stroking his muscles, and one even creeps beneath his shirt. He looks pretty comfortable with all the attention, and that is probably worse than the bimbos giving it to him.
“I’m going to go find my brothers,” I say, hiking my thumb over my shoulder in no particular direction except away from this spectacle.
He doesn’t hear me, let alone notice as I turn and walk away. Which is neither here nor there and shouldn’t bother me at all. Because who am I to Dax “The Guillotine” Daytona? His best friend’s goody-two-shoes little sister, that’s who.
Yet, it does bother me, even though he’s not the kind of guy I should be bothered about. What I should do is leave childhood crushes in the past where they belong. Especially Dax. Someone like me has no business thinking these things about someone like him.
“Oh, sorry,” I mumble, as I bump into someone in passing.
I’m so lost in my head; it surprises me for a moment to find myself still in the packed gym. But the guy I just bumped into gets my attention. Not because he totally ignores my apology, but because of the look on his face and the purposeful way he’s striding toward Dax. The four-man posse of thugs following him only makes the whole thing that much more foreboding. They’re all very much out of place at this swanky press party, looking like they crawled up from the street corner that they call home.
I look around to see if anyone else has picked up on this development, but everyone is too caught up in the party. Funny how the man of the moment is nobody’s concern once the free food and booze rolls out. Rooted to my spot a few feet from where I left Dax, I watch as he shoos away his fangirls in anticipation of the conversation he’s about to have with this guy.
His face takes on a cold, stony expression and his hands ball up into fists as the stranger comes to stand in front of him. There’s restraint though, as Dax buries them deep inside the pockets of his jeans. I can clearly pick up on the way his jaw sets and his pecs flex under his shirt from here. He’s holding back, but ready.
The two get into it then, and judging by the look on Dax’s face, it’s not good. I suddenly wish I hadn’t been so hasty in my getaway. If I were closer, I might catch a bit of what is going on between them. I don’t know why I need to know, but right now, it feels like I’m missing out on something big. So much for not being bothered.
“Here you are!” Ciara appears beside me and hooks her arm into mine. “I need a wingman at the caviar bar.”
Thankfully she’s too distracted by food to notice my preoccupation with Dax, and I’m able to come out of it without having to explain anything.