He won. Again. And again, and again. In the past couple of weeks, he was on fire, knocking out his opponents one by one. Five, to be exact. Five consecutive wins, as if they were nothing.

I was in the front row for all of his matches, cheering the loudest, while my heart tried to beat its way out of my ribcage. There were times I was terrified, but I never hid behind my hands again. Somehow, I knew he was watching, expecting my gaze on him at all times, and so he had it.

Sometimes I was with company in the crowd, and sometimes I was alone. Especially in those moments, I couldn't help but think; think about a younger, teenage Brandon in a similar ring, winning his battles by knocking down his opponents. He was always fighting, whether it be in a courthouse or in the ring, but what was he truly fighting? It had been weeks, but I still couldn't forget what my brother said on his debut match: all that training both on stage and on the streets.

It was indeed second nature to him, but it didn't stop the ever-present spider web of everything I was yet to learn about Brandon from growing, and now, more complex threads of the silken web were becoming sticky, as my questions were unending.

Like the victor Brandon Anthony King was, his sponsors organized a party deserving of him. Sleek black cars brought the guests in front of the luxurious venue, while flashing lights of the paparazzi immortalized the moments all the MMA athletes and enthusiasts – among them politicians, CEO's and Chicago's most influential residents – walked down a red carpet to the entrance of the club.

It was like nothing I've ever experienced, or expected, and even though I tried to keep a strong front, I was feeling dizzy among the sea of people that walked slowly towards the entrance. Once again, I was reminded, how different his world was from mine, making the uneasiness in my gut unsettling.

I wasn't the only one feeling out of place. My brother and Stella were both surprised with the events that happened these past few weeks, but nothing prepared us for this type of wealth. Still, the invitation printed on black matte paper with golden letters should be sufficient, that this party was more opulent than our initial concept.

It was a warm night. One of the warmest at the end of summer in Chicago, and even though my red dress was of thin material, I felt like I couldn't breathe. My black high heels didn't provide enough height, and so the people around us, trying to enter the club, were like an impenetrable wall of bodies, sealing the oxygen from reaching my lungs.

Somehow, scrubs felt lighter, when compared to the silky, form-fitting dress I dared to wear tonight.

Entering the club wouldn't be easy, especially if our names weren't on the list. Lucky for us, we were guests of Brandon, and so when we neared the young lady at the front, holding a tablet and checking off names, I was reassured, that the man of honor would be waiting for us on the inside; he was waiting for me.

We were both avoiding the topic of what this was between us, but it wasn't unnerving. We always relished in the time we spent together. Our jobs took most of our time and there were days we couldn't see each other, until one of us snuck out for a well-deserved kiss, or snuck in for a few moments of bliss in each other's arms. But at last, tonight we would be together.

As we stepped in front of the PR, Markus and Stella moved forward, giving her their names, while she checked her list. She was beautiful, with long platinum waves and bright eyes. The ink adorning her arms and chest was enchanting and I wondered how many hours of intricate handwork they required. Looking at the beautiful lady, I felt self-conscious and I kept my gaze on the velvet-carpet, wondering if I was enough, when Jax took a hold of my shoulder.

Unlike me, he could shrug everything happening around him like it was nothing, ignoring the racket around us with his usual stone cold, unreadable façade.

"Stop stressing out," he said, squeezing my shoulder. "You're amazing and he's an idiot if he can't see it."

I was surprised at his words, but didn't have time to respond. He took a step forward, in front of the PR, stating his name.

"Jaxon Inkles."

Markus and Stella were waiting for us a few steps behind the girl, while she searched her list for Jax's name. "Welcome to the party, Mr. Inkles," she said with a sultry voice, as she met his cold gaze with a gleam in her eyes.

"Erika Ricci." It was my turn to get inside, and she met my eyes the minute I said my name with an irritated expression.

"I'm so sorry, but you are not on the list for tonight."

"Wait, what?" Assuming I was caught off guard would be the understatement of the century.

"I'm afraid so. Could you please step to the side? More guests are waiting in line."

How she was so seductive a moment ago, and irritating now was beyond me.

"I am on the list. My brother and friends just got inside. We are Brandon's guests."

"Mr. King never has guests, beautiful. Now if you could be a doll and–"

"Erika, what's wrong?" Jax asked behind the woman who was making my life miserable.

Was I really left behind? Was this a sign?

Markus and Stella came closer, getting into a heated conversation with the PR, while Jaxon was within seconds on the phone with someone. I, on the other hand, remained there; baffled.

Minutes later, screams of fans were heard around us, and I turned to look at who initiated the crowd's cheers once more, when my eyes met Brandon's; those deep, emerald greens of his.

He took long strides towards us, before pulling me in his arms in a comforting warm hug. "Let's go, Angel."

The whole point of meeting him inside, was to avoid unwanted attention; at least that was what his uncle Elijah had said. Well, me in his arms was more than enough, to make the photographers go wild. He kept me in his arms, though, hiding my face, as we got closer to the entrance and past the young woman.

The same irritated expression was back on the PR's face, when she let me inside, but it melted away into anger, when she turned to look at the man behind me. He didn't spare her a look, but I could put two and two together. Or at least assume what all that was.

"Ex-girlfriend?"

"I don't have exes."

Lovers then, maybe? I didn't really want to know. Besides, this was barely the time, or place.

Chandeliers, leather couches and scandalously-dressed beautiful servers with golden bubbly drinks on their trays moved captivatingly under the purple and pink lights. We were all taken to a VIP area, Brandon's hand still wrapped around my waist, yet nothing could stop my brain from thinking of the woman at the entrance. She wasn't his lover, but if not, then who was she still to him? Did she know about me?

Would I be the same, in a couple of weeks' time; a jealous girl, left forgotten.

"I think we all need a drink," Stella said cheerfully; always the voice of reason, she knew exactly what I needed. She pulled me and an equally stunned Markus towards the bar in the middle of the room. "How can the both of you wear the same expression?"

She made her way right in front of the bartender, making her order, before she came back with five shot glasses balanced in her two hands. Her eyes meant trouble, as I regrettably made eye contact with my bubbly best friend, but took the glass without further questions.

"Look at you two," she gestured towards me and Markus, before raising her own glass in the air. "At the beginning of our internship we never could have imagined we would go to an MMA match, or be invited to one of the MVP's private parties, but here we are. So, drink up, niños, and let's have some fun."

She was right; we should enjoy our night.

One song brought the next, and before long everybody slowly scattered away from us, dancing in the beat of the music until I lost all of them from my sight. Everyone, but Brandon, who was still close to me; an apologetic look on his face.

"Angel –"

"There you guys are!" Liam's voice surprised me, both from how loud and how close to us it sounded. His strong arms pulled me away from Brandon and into a hug. "He was here a minute ago and then he simply disappeared. And I have a feeling it was a certain doctor's fault, or am I mistaken?"

He only released me when Brandon's hands freed his from around me, pulling me protectively into his chest. I couldn't see his face, but if the calculative gleam in Liam's eyes was any indication, I could assume Brandon didn't appreciate his friend's antics.

They exchanged a knowing look, until Liam yielded with a sigh, looking away.

"I'm Alex." The woman at Liam's side extended her hand, taking mine in a strong handshake. Her arm and neck were decorated with tattoos that could rival Brandon's. Her ink was truly captivating, and I was beginning to see a pattern about the women surrounding these men. A pattern I seemed to be the exception of.

"Erika," I said with a smile, that almost reached my eyes.

"Join me for a drink, Erika, 'til these two finish whatever –"

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Alex, but I think Brandon wants some alone time with his girl, isn't that right?"

"I'm not his gi –"

"Yes, that's right!"

We both tried to say at the same time, and I turned to look at him; an obvious question on my face.

"Well, now they certainly do need some alone time. Let's go, Liam." She pulled a grinning Liam away, before meeting my gaze. "See you around, gorgeous." She said, before we lost them in the crowd.

"God, he's a handful." Brandon groaned beside me. "The thing is, he doesn't even comprehend the kinds of emotions he's stirring. It's all just a game, for him."

"What the hell are you talking about?" The words left my mouth, without even realizing I said them, but really, who was stirring emotions without comprehending them? Frustrated, I moved away from him, trying to find the bar or Stella in this place, when I bumped onto someone, almost knocking his drink out of his hand.

"I am so sorry," I said apologetically, when his hand took strong hold of mine, to balance me on my feet.

"Nothing happened." Jax's steel blue eyes met mine, but it wasn't Jax there in front of me. "Take care of yourself, beautiful." There was a warning in his voice, I couldn't quite decipher, as I lost him in the crowd. Confused at the similarities, I moved away, finally spotting Stella dancing with Markus and Jax. They were having fun, and before I could stop myself, I was by her side, seeking some of that fun.

Stella didn't question the frustration on my face. She simply pulled me closer, as we danced in the middle of the other two, making most of my worries scatter. My hips swayed in the rhythm of the music, as we mirrored each other's movements. Markus whistled once, when her arms rested around my neck, and he tried to get closer to her, but she paid him no attention. His attempts were futile, because in that moment there was only me, and my best friend, and that damned good music the DJ was providing.

"What are you trying to do, Angel?" Brandon's voice came huskier beside my ear, making me shiver.

His hands found my hips, his chest glued to my back, as he rested his chin on my right shoulder. I released my best friend, who was more than happy to continue what we were doing, but more sensually, in the arms of my twin. My hand found its way to the nape of Brandon's neck and I played with his short hair, the other intertwining with his hand on my hip, as we continued to dance together. I loved dancing and, even though I was still wary of what transpired until now, it didn't matter when I was in his arms.

Right now, I didn't mind our close proximity; on the contrary, I needed him closer.

It didn't matter, what was to come. The only thing that mattered, were the feelings, the fire he was erupting inside me. If he chose to leave, I would be okay with it. If he decided I wasn't enough for him, at least I would have the feeling of his hands wrapped around me, his lips leaving burning kisses on my skin, branding me as his, like all the tattoos marked on his skin. My own tattoos.

"I missed you, Erika," he spoke against my skin, "I wish we were back home, on my sofa, watching whatever the hell you want... anything, if it meant I could see your smile." Home... It felt nice.

I turned around in his arms, finding his eyes that were colored all sorts of neon shades from the club's lighting. I took a deep breath, in need of oxygen in my lungs, while I placed my head on his chest for a few moments.

Even though I wished I was anywhere else but at this club, when I was with him it didn't matter.

"What's wrong, Angel?"

"I –" There were no words to describe how I was feeling; confused, frustrated, infatuated...

"What is it, baby?"

"Can we go somewhere more private?"

There was no smirk on his face, no suspicious gleam in his eyes, but a soft, understanding smile. He nodded in understanding, before taking a hold of my hand and pulling me towards the back of the club, were most of the sofas were empty, since most guests were on the dancefloor or taking pictures with anyone who was famous enough. The lighting was dimmer and the music softer; I could finally listen to his voice without difficulty.

He looked captivating. In the dim lighting he seemed even more mysterious. His broad shoulders hugged by a black button-down shirt tucked in black trousers. His eyes... Damn, his eyes could never lose my attention, even if I wanted to.

We sat on a sofa at the back, providing the most privacy we had all night. His hands found their way around my waist, pulling me back into the warmth of his embrace. Even though we could hear each other clearly now above the soft music, no words were spoken, as we stared at each other.

His lips parted, and mine mirrored their action. I wanted to kiss him so badly. I wanted to kiss him lazily when we woke up every morning together. I wanted to kiss him when we met after work. I wanted to kiss him on our way home.

I wanted to kiss him in a dark corner during a loud party, that neither of us wanted to be at.

"Kiss me, Erika. Nothing matters when we're together. No past could ever ruin this." His hands cupped my cheeks, caressing my skin, as he uttered each word decisively. "Stop thinking about anything else, and kiss me."

And I did.