Page 43 of King of Clubs

“Cooper is – is a legend? The only man who can beat you in boxing and live to tell the tale? The brains and brawn of our friendship? Should I continue?” I noted the moment he spotted Marlee because his eyes moved between both of us like he was watching tennis and his grin in my direction was a clear indication I was found out.

Unfortunately, he was the most insightful prick I had ever met and at times knew me better than I knew myself.

“It’s Marlee, right?” His voice was both friendly and flirtatious, instantly pissing me off. “You’re Arna’s friend,” he stated rather than asked, reaching to take her hand.

“That’s correct,” she replied, looking at his hand as I leant over and slapped it away from her.

Cooper only grinned, loving nothing more than a bit of banter.

“This is my best-mate, Cooper,” I said. “He is a dick, and he was just leaving to go and order you a drink to make up for being such a tool. He was also going to tip the bartender nicely for her trouble.” He threw his head back and laughed which made the jealousy from before dissipate. Holding his hands up in defence mode, he walked backwards towards the door.

“Okay, okay, what are you drinking?” He smiled big and I was going to do my best to knock some of those teeth out on Sunday when we faced off in the training ring.

“She would like a vodka passion fruit in a short glass, plenty of ice, and she wants it delivered to her table,” I moved to the cameras and pointed to the screen that depicted the VIP booth where Andy, Jack and the boys were sitting.

“No problem at all. Lovely to see you again, Marlee,” saluting us both, he left, his voice echoing down the stairwell, “Pour me a drink, Micallef. But wash your hands first.”

I reached for a horrified Marlee as he sauntered down to the bar like the bloody perceptive bastard he was and apologised around my own chuckle.

Far too focused on trying to read her lips through the cameras, I didn’t realise Coop was there until he scared the living shit out of me.

“Nothing there, huh?” Flippant bastard had not only seen her in my office – a first – but caught me watching her and her friends since she returned to the table. Both Arna and Felicity had her sandwiched, peppering her with what I assumed were questions on her lengthy disappearance and I was desperate to know what she said.

“Have you always been this irritating?” I asked, ignoring the cocky way he grinned at my expense.

“Avoidance is becoming a thing for you,” leaning back in my chair and crossing his legs on top of the table, he knew exactly how to get on my last nerve.

“Your new drop tastes like shit,” I lied, which his rumbling laugh indicated he also knew, and I smirked, unable to ignore the way in his presence I could always be my unapologetic self. But if he could refrain from interrupting when I had my fingers inside the enigmatic beauty downstairs or her vanilla lips on mine, I’d probably like him more.

“So the woman who seems to have your panties in a knot,” he said, staring at me with a shit-eating grin, “is none other than Mar-lee.” He separated her name in an attempt to further irritate me and I narrowed my eyes, wondering if I could get in at least one hit before he reacted. I doubted it based on his boxing record, but a man could hope. Noticing his freshly bruised hands I ignored his jibe.

“Have you been fighting?” I reached for one of the bottles and inspected the label.

He wouldn’t lie to me but I didn’t need to make it any more difficult by staring him down which always pissed him off. Cooper and I trained together and that included heavy boxing sessions both on the bag and in the ring, but he’d found the ring to be a place of solace for a while now and it wasn’t always pretty or legal. Countless hours near begging him to quit hadn’t work, the sick fuck enjoyed the thrill of it all and maintained he would stopsoon enough, but I knew better. A bout in the ring nearly always coincided with him not doing too well and he could hide behind his larger-than-life grin and those blue eyes which nearly every woman fell for, but I knew this bloke and had done since our first day of kindergarten.

He was hurting and that meant he’d probably had another blow-up with his folks. Namely his old man.

He rubbed his knuckles, his grin slipping as he sat up straighter and reached for the whiskey.

“Deflection and avoidance,” he huffed while pouring a drink. “Got a text and wasn’t busy so headed in. No big deal.” I didn’t reprimand him, but I also didn’t ask for details. Other than his hands he didn’t have a mark on him which was another reason I wasn’t going to try to hit him unless I knew I could run. He was the best fighter I'd ever seen and the only thing scarier than his right hook, was the way he lost all sense of control if he felt trapped or triggered. Something which thankfully hadn’t happened in a while.

“Solstice Mist,” I read the label on his latest brew aloud before glancing up to him.

His hair had gotten longer, and the blonde strands were now covering his face. When he looked up his expression remained concealed. There would be no more unpacking tonight. “You been smoking the good stuff at home again? What the fuck is Solstice Mist?”

“Fuck off,” he huffed, “It’s good though, right? Made it for your new bar,” he added, referring to my new dream.

“It’ll be top shelf for sure. How’s the distillery?”

“Busy, man. I need to get myself some more help, I think. Might look into hiring a few people once it starts to warm up.”

I nodded and casually glanced towards the cameras tracking each screen until I found exactly who I was looking for, dancing with Arna and Jack. Even though I doubted there was anything there between Marlee and Jack, I couldn’t help the sharp pang of jealousy with how unencumbered she seemed around him.

Coop, unaware of my stupid thoughts, moved over to the window to watch the floor below.

“She’s hot, man. Those legs…” He whistled, glancing back over his shoulder with a wink. He was intentionally taunting me again, doing his best to get a rise and like a fucking hungry little fish I took the bait.

“Did you want a black eye to match your bruised knuckles?” I spat, standing next to him. He wasn’t wrong. That tight top she was wearing was practically painted on hiding what was likely a perfect set of fucking tits.

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