Chapter Two

Pompous, Smug Asshole

Vince

Fuck. This.

I was so fucking angry I couldn’t think.

When court ended and the other wrestlers started murmuring to each other, I was locked in place on the couch, too stiff and tense to move.

I flinched when my fellow wrestler Dullahan Dan gripped my shoulder and squeezed. “You okay, man?” he asked quietly.

“Fine,” I got out through gritted teeth. I shoved myself up off the couch to vanish into my dressing room.

But then I saw Crossbody stand elegantly, brushing off the front of his pants, his face calm and blank as if none of that had just happened. My fury surged, making my hands clench into fists. When he, without saying a word to anyone, swept out of the backstage area, I gritted my teeth and stayed where I was. I didn’t want to run into him in the hallway right now, not with Corey around. I’d just start yelling again. Then Corey really would go to Holt without giving us a chance to “reconcile” first.

I had no fucking interest in “reconciling” with Crossbody.

“Do you want to talk about what just happened?” Dan asked uncertainly, standing up beside me. He kept glancing over at Rafe, our IT Manager and a ghoul like me. He was still hunched over his laptop by the training ring, having sat in to watch the proceedings, and was clearly just waiting to see Dan before he went back to his office.

“No,” I said shortly. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

Dan hesitated. “Maybe we can go for a beer after work or something? Me, you and Rafe.”

I didn’t want to talk about Crossbody. I didn’t even want to think about him. I hated how much I already thought about him.

“Maybe,” I said noncommittally, because I didn’t want to be an outright dick to my buddy. “Might be busy.”

“Okay.” He hesitated again, then squeezed my shoulder before walking off to speak to Rafe.

I watched absently, my mind still churning and cloudy with anger, as Rafe hurriedly stood up with a grin and tucked his laptop under his arm. Dan cupped his chin and leaned down to kiss him before they began talking quietly. When Rafe glanced over at me with a concerned frown, I quickly looked away.

Corey drained the last of his martini before he snapped his binder closed and stood to pick up Cora from her mini throne. Taylor had hurried over, looking worried—which made my belly tighten with foreboding—and Corey stopped to speak quietly to him and Seb.

Taylor was going to tell Holt what had happened. Of course he was. Corey had agreed to give us “one last chance” to be civil with each other before he took the matter to the boss, but that didn’t mean the boss wasn’t going to find out sooner.

If Holt decided I was too much of a liability and fired me, I didn’t know what I’d do. I loved my job so much. More than anyone else here, I was pretty sure. It was everything to me.

I wasn’t good at anything else. I’d be fucked.

The smart thing to do would be—god, my stomach turned just thinking about it—to apologise to Crossbody. Be the bigger person. Show Corey and Holt that I was the one putting in effort and trying to make amends with that pompous asshole.

But I didn’t think I had it in me. I was too proud, and he was too much of a jackass. He’d gloat forever. He’d think he’d won .

Realising I was just standing here alone in silence, I finally headed for the door. I made sure not to stalk because I saw Corey glance at me with a brow raised, but once I was in my dressing room, I couldn’t stop myself from slamming the door.

Fucking Crossbody. It didn’t matter if he lost his job. He was obscenely rich. He was fae royalty, for fuck’s sake. He could just go back to his mommy’s palace in Otherworld and continue living in luxury without a care in the world. He didn’t even need a job.

Why the fuck was he even here? Why was he wasting his time wrestling professionally when he’d inevitably just end up going back to Otherworld and being a fucking prince?

He’d probably become Spring King one day. I didn’t know if he was next in line or whatever, but I could just see him lounging pompously on some ornate fae throne, bossing people around and smiling smugly to himself over how much better he was than everyone else.

God, I couldn’t stand him.

I looked around my dressing room with slightly wild eyes, part of me wanting to smash up everything in sight. It was pretty messy in here—I wasn’t the tidiest person—with dirty clothes piled on the small couch, make-up spilled on the vanity and used beakers littering every surface, many starting to smell pretty ripe.

Restless energy had me striding forward and swiping up all the clothes. I couldn’t do what I wanted to do—go and yell at Crossbody some more—so I made a conscious effort to use my time productively. I was bad at sitting still and doing nothing.

Eventually, the sounds of rehearsals taking place in the main room reached my ears, our coach Hogbody barking orders at Mads and Susan. Through the wall, I could hear the rumble of Biff and Gabe’s voices in Biff’s dressing room. I’d heard them fucking in there many, many times over the years.

I’d actually hooked up with them once, a couple years back. Well, I’d mainly fooled around with Gabe. Biff and I were too similar during sex, and neither of us had been willing to take on a less dominant role, so we’d both just bossed Gabe around and had fun making him come again and again until the incubus was nothing more than a quivering mess, unable to string a sentence together by the time Biff wrapped a blanket around him and pulled him onto his lap.

It had been fun, but that was back when they’d only recently started hooking up together and weren’t all that serious yet. I knew they still invited others to join them, but they were an established, solid couple now, and I wasn’t interested in getting in the middle of that.

Once my dressing room was somewhat tidy, I gathered up all the dirty beakers and took a deep breath before carrying them into the backstage area. I was feeling marginally calmer, but I knew if I saw Crossbody, my rage would spike again.

Luckily, he wasn’t in here. I relaxed a little when I saw that only Heidi, a faun who went by The G.O.A.T., was in the kitchen area. She wasn’t interested in deep conversations about how I was feeling or whatever. She was pretty no-nonsense.

“Alright, champ?” she said cheerfully when I dumped my beakers on the counter and reached down to pull open the dishwasher.

“Yep.”

“Phew.” She laughed and waved a hand in front of her nose when I unscrewed a lid to shove it in the dishwasher. Protein shakes smelled particularly horrific after a while. “How long have they been sitting in your dressing room, boyo?”

I managed a tight chuckle. “Dunno.”

“Exciting news about the new talent, right?” she asked, leaning back against the counter with her water bottle as she watched me.

The reminder perked me up a little. Corey had announced during court that Holt was hiring some new wrestlers, and we hadn’t had anyone new in a while. It wasn’t like there was a league out there Holt could pull from. He’d scouted most of us himself, while a few—like me—had come to him, asking for a chance to prove ourselves as professional wrestlers.

I was pretty sure he’d only hired me because of the roller-skating gimmick. I’d already been in a roller derby league then, so I was incredible on skates, and when I’d suggested a seventies disco theme for my persona, he’d eaten it right up.

Brian the werewolf had been our last new hire, a couple years ago now. He was shy and quiet outside of the ring, but once he got in it and became B. Were, he was a force to be reckoned with. I loved fighting Brian, though we weren’t paired up against each other often because our height and weight differences made the matches somewhat harder to believe for the fans.

“Yeah,” I answered Heidi, straightening and closing the dishwasher after shoving the last beaker in. “When do you think they’ll start?”

She shrugged her huge shoulders. “Soon, I think. I heard Taylor and Corey talking about it after court. Sounds like Holt has already found some folks.”

A hint of trepidation crept into my gut. If we had new people, there was less pressure on Holt to keep his existing wrestlers happy. To let things slide because he couldn’t afford to lose the talent.

New people meant a greater risk of being let go if I rocked the boat too much or caused too much discord in the workplace. I could just be replaced.

Holt could just decide that he didn’t want to deal with any conflict and fire me and Crossbody.

I hate him so much . I seethed, glaring at the doors. I could just picture him in his dressing room—I’d never seen it, but it was probably ridiculous and fancy—lounging back without a care in the world. Probably brushing his hair or something, preening over himself.

He was probably feeling smug about making me lose my temper again in front of everyone. In front of Corey. Probably laughing about Corey threatening to remove me from court.

Smug asshole.

I was getting angry again, so I gave Heidi a tight smile and beelined for the treadmill in the workout area. For once, Crossbody wasn’t hogging it all to himself. He practically lived on this thing when he was at work.

And if he came out here hoping to use it while I was? Well, that would just be a tiny little victory to me. A win. He wouldn’t be able to say anything, because Corey had ordered us to not talk to each other or interact at all unless we happened to get teamed up for a match.

I smiled a little to myself as I hopped on and started it up.

—

By 6 p.m. I was marginally less pissed.

I’d rehearsed with Carl, the vampire Blood Suckapunch, for a few hours for our upcoming match. I’d chilled out with Dan and Mads—our resident gorgon, who went by Lady Victoria Venom in the ring—for a while. And I’d avoided going anywhere near Crossbody.

Everyone was starting to drift home. Dan had left at five-thirty to go home with Rafe, and I knew that meant the other office workers were likely to have finished for the day too. Larkin and Seb never hung around, eager to be alone together, and I’d overheard Susan saying that Holt was taking Taylor out to dinner at a fancy restaurant she and her boyfriend Asmo had recommended.

Corey had also left a while ago to start getting ready for his drag show tonight, so I was feeling calmer now that the top brass was out of the building. But I also didn’t want to go home.

That panicky sensation was still gnawing at my gut. The worry that Holt was going to fire me and replace me. That asshole Crossbody had said in front of everyone during court that I “didn’t take my job seriously” and was a “slacker.”

Fuck him.

It wasn’t true. Just because I enjoyed myself at work—and had a life outside of it—didn’t mean I was a fucking slacker or didn’t take my damn job seriously. I took it fucking seriously. I’d clawed myself out of poverty with this job. Not that the pompous royal fae would have any idea what that was like.

I could prove just how seriously I took it by staying late and… I didn’t really know what I’d do. Kind of hard to rehearse for a match when your match partner had already left. But I knew if I went home, I’d just sit and stew. I’d get pissed again.

I considered calling Dan and seeing if he and Rafe still wanted to go for that drink. Maybe I could find someone to fuck at the bar—work some of this restless energy out of my system. But they were probably already home and getting settled for the evening. It was still a little odd to see my strictly-casual-only buddy fully immersed in the honeymoon phase of a real relationship. He seemed smitten with our quiet ghoul IT Manager.

I mean, he’d attempted to take on Frank and Beans to defend Rafe’s honour, so he had to really like him.

I still had nightmares about that house. The motel art. The serial killer sand pit. The paintnuts—particularly the one Beans had fired directly at my nuts.

At least the small bruise on my testicle was gone, and at least we were unlikely to ever see Frank and Beans again. They’d fled after stealing Dan’s head. Holt had been about to fire them for it, but they’d disappeared before he could to, apparently, start a new life mugging people and stealing their zippers.

I was still pissed about the jeans they’d taken from me. But it was a sacrifice I’d been willing to make to escape that funhouse from hell.

I didn’t want to go home and sit there thinking about Crossbody or Frank and Beans. I needed to keep busy. I always needed to keep busy so I didn’t start getting frustrated and anxiously restless.

Now that my dressing room was somewhat tidy, I decided to give it a deep clean—something I may not have ever done before, and I’d been here five years. Which was probably bad.

This way, if Holt or Corey decided to drop by my dressing room, they’d see what a good employee I was. Tidy and conscientious and a hard worker.

With that in mind, I went to the supply closet to grab some cleaning products, nodding goodbye to Kenneth and Brian as they left together. One of the maintenance guys, Tommy, was sanding down and repainting Frank and Beans’ former dressing room door. Their stuff was piled up in the corridor for disposal, and a shiver ran down my spine as I scanned some of the items.

Several martial arts trophies. A big novelty hotdog in a bun with arms and a face, clearly stolen from a restaurant or somewhere. A large collection of dog toys, many of which had been gnawed on. And, Jesus Christ, a huge pinboard covered in all our faces. They’d been ripped out of our promotional posters, which lined the walls in the public corridors and arena. Holt had assumed it was fans stealing mementos on the way out, grumbling every time he had to get a new one printed.

But no. It had been them. Stealing our heads from posters.

A trash bag was overflowing with empty hotdog packages, crumpled cans of hotdog water-flavoured soda, bags of dog kibble and old, stained tighty-whities. I shuddered and took a step away.

“Sorry you had to clean the room out, man,” I said to Tommy ruefully. “Bet it was a hellhole, right?”

The mild-mannered gargoyle chuckled easily. “Pretty nasty, but nothing I can’t handle. Frances did the worst of it,” he added, referring to one of the janitors here.

“Still,” I muttered, nudging another trash bag with my foot and blanching when a beaker filled to the brim with mould rolled out.

Fuck, I really had to clean my dressing room. I could not be as bad as Frank and Beans. I could not let myself turn into them. I’d sooner chop off my own nuts. Or shoot them with a paintball myself.

“This all getting thrown out?” I asked Tommy, glancing up and nodding at Heidi when she sauntered past, her gym bag thrown over her shoulder.

“Well, we think some of this stuff might belong to the rest of you.” Tommy chuckled and gestured at a pile against the wall. “Seems they were sneaking into your dressing rooms when no one was around.”

I stiffened, stalking closer to peer down at the pile. “Those fuckers.” When I spotted an old hoodie I thought I’d lost years ago, I said it again. “Those fuckers .”

“Might wanna wash that before wearing it.” Tommy nodded at it as I picked it up.

“Yeah.” My lip curled as I held the fabric between two fingers, far away from me. It was stained. The stains were not identifiable. I was pretty sure I’d be happier if I never identified them.

“We’ll clear out the trash and leave the other stuff here for you all to look through tomorrow,” Tommy said, turning back to the door and lifting his paintbrush. “Think everyone’s gone home now.”

I breathed a silent sigh of relief. That meant Crossbody was gone. Thank fuck.

“Thanks, man.” I carried my filthy hoodie into my dressing room and stuffed it in an empty carrier bag to take home with me.

Although maybe I’d just burn it. Wasn’t sure I even wanted to wear it anymore.

As I started spraying and wiping down surfaces, I listened to Tommy whistling cheerfully in the hallway, before he eventually packed up his tools and picked up the trash bags. After his footsteps had faded, there was silence.

I didn’t really like silence all that much.

Unfortunately, I also really hated cleaning. I’d done enough of it at my last job as a janitor at the head office of Gateur Garbage Disposal and Waste Management, a firm run by reptile shifters.

It had definitely also been a front for the mob. I’d heard them talking about their ‘Grand-mère Lézard’ many times, and the manager, Freddie, had told me that if I ever needed a favour, I should go to him.

The “favour” being a whack job was heavily implied.

By the time I’d cleaned every surface, tidied up my vanity and stuffed all my dirty workout clothes in a bag to take home and wash, I was bored shitless. After sweeping the floor, I decided to take a quick shower because I was feeling grimy and the water pressure here was way better than my place.

Ten minutes later, I emerged from my private bathroom—I didn’t even have an en suite at home—with a towel wrapped around my hips, feeling much calmer.

I’d go home, eat some dinner and drink a beer to chill out. Maybe watch some porn. I’d overheard Susan telling Gabe the other day that her adult film star boyfriend Asmo, who went by Assmo Dickus, had a new one out. It was him and another incubus, which meant it was going to be wild. Incubi could fuck endlessly. Like most supernaturals, they didn’t really have a refractory period, and their seminal vesicles were much larger and worked differently from all other creatures, meaning they could produce an endless—and bountiful—supply of semen.

Gabe had enthusiastically and breathlessly told me all about it between moans while I was milking him that one time, three fingers shoved deep in his ass and my fist working his cock. He’d reached a point where he’d just been coming non-stop, sobbing in pleasure and clawing at Biff, who’d been cradling his head and stroking his horns.

We’d made a huge mess, and it had actually been very informative. I’d picked up some great tips from both of them on how to drive an incubus wild, and I’d definitely utilised them with other people I’d fucked since.

I loved my colleagues. They were the best.

Except for one.

Scowling to myself, I picked up the other dirty beakers and a couple plates and bowls that I’d found down the side of the couch. I was pretty sure my dressing room had never been this clean.

The low thrum of the treadmill in the main room didn’t register at first as I left the room and walked down the hallway. When it finally filtered into my brain, I stopped dead and tensed up as I listened to the sound of footsteps pounding on the belt at a steady pace.

Someone was still here. And they were on the treadmill. Which most likely meant…

I gritted my teeth and turned to walk back to my dressing room, then stopped and turned again.

No. Fuck that. I wasn’t going to let him do that. I wasn’t going to let his presence make me avoid certain areas at my own fucking place of work.

I would just ignore him. Corey had said we weren’t allowed to talk to each other anyway, and I just knew if I said even one single thing to Crossbody, he’d go running to the orc and tattle on me. He was such a kiss ass.

I wouldn’t even want to look at him anyway, because he was probably wearing those ridiculous shorts he liked to run in. The tiny ones that barely covered his ass. They were tight as well. Kind of clingy. Not that I’d ever looked too hard.

But, I mean, I still had eyes. And when a six-foot-five royal fae with endlessly long legs and huge shimmering wings and an infuriatingly flawless face walked past you in a pair of skimpy shorts, your eyes were naturally drawn to him. It was just… instinct or something. Reflex. Yeah, reflex. He wanted people to look at him.

Which was why he also wore those tiny, clingy briefs to wrestle. He wanted all the attention. He wanted everyone to look at him and just wish they could receive his attention, be the one he noticed and looked at with his stupid hooded eyes that were all naturally sultry and that ridiculous, interesting mauve colour.

Well, I wasn’t going to give him what he wanted. I’d already risen to the bait enough times to land us both in hot water. I didn’t even want to interact with him, he just made me so angry that I couldn’t help myself.

But this time, I was going to behave. If he said anything to me, I’d just ignore him.

I could ignore him.

I could.