Chapter 6 He Is Over My Head

• Castle.
• “Castle,” Adriana’s voice snapped into my ears, harsh and shrill even before the door of the house closed behind me.
• I had ignored her call and drove straight to my club, diving into both the corporate side of my business and the shady side, before taking a quick detour to the gym.
• And now, hours later, I'm returning home to take a quick shower before heading out again. I had a meeting with a potential wine supplier at my club tonight, and I felt gross from my sweaty skin.
• Shrugging off my leather jacket, I threw it on the settee before making my way up the stairs, ignoring Adriana.
• But just like I expected, she followed behind.
• “Castle…”
• I entered my room, but before I had the opportunity to slam the door in her face, she slid into the room with me.
• “What do you want?” I asked nonchalantly, peeling off my tank top, not wanting to show how much she irritated me.
• I looked up as I spoke and saw her glossy lips pressed into a tight line.
• “Where the hell did you go last night?”
• An unbidden image of Angel lying naked forced its way into my mind, and I clenched my jaw.
• “Business,” I replied calmly, keeping my expression neutral, but the lie tasted bitter in my mouth.
• She laughed. “Business… of course.”
• Her eyes narrowed as she continued. “Funny how your business had a nice ass in a suit and a damn mask.”
• She was angry and I understood why, so I stayed silent. Because she wasn’t wrong.
• “You left me, Castle. At a charity ball we showed up to as a couple. What was I supposed to tell the people asking about you? Who did you think would play the host when you left without warning anyone?”
• “You handled it,” I said quietly.
• Adriana took a deep breath, her chest rising like a warning. “Do you even care about how you made me feel?”
• I met her eyes and replied honestly. “No.”
• She swallowed. And for a moment, she seemed so small, so hurt that I almost berated myself. Emphasis on almost.
• But then I remembered that this was Adriana, and she wasn't as innocent as she likes making people believe… me inclusive.
• She took a step forward.
• “Please, tell me last night was a one-time thing. Tell me the ball pressured you into making some mistake and I'll believe you.”
• Shaking my head, I sighed.
• “Adriana, just stop. Please. You'll only hurt yourself.”
• That silenced her for a moment. And then she said, “You know what the worst part is?”
• I tilted my head. “Enlighten me.”
• “The worst part is that you don't care about me at all, even though I'm carrying your baby and your heir.”
• She paused dramatically, eyeing my expression. I don't know when a long laugh escaped my lips.
• “You're what now?” I quirked my eyebrows, challenging her to repeat her statement.
• “I'm pregnant, Castle. With your baby.”
• The audacity! She really thought this would work?
• I smirked and nodded, allowing her to assume that I believed her but I didn't. Although I knew all about her indiscretions, I had never mentioned them because I wasn't interested in her that way.
• But for now, I'll play along.
• “And what do you want me to do?” I asked, turning to grab a towel. I was this close to dismissing her.
• Turning back around, I saw her eyes linger on my chest before she swallowed hard and looked away.
• “I’m not going to be humiliated by you, Castle. I won’t be one of those women,” she stated.
• I looked at her long and hard, a cold smirk making its way to my lips.
• “You already are,” I said, colder than I intended and then I stepped into my bathroom and closed the glass door, effectively shutting her out.
• But as the water cascaded down my skin, I could feel my agitation underneath. I needed to make someone bleed, that's the only way to shut it all off.
• And I knew exactly where to go.
• ***
• The crowd was already howling by the time I stepped into the cage—the scent of blood, sweat, and smoke thick in the air.
• The underground ring was hidden deep beneath the ruins of a warehouse in Red Hook. There were no lights except the bare bulbs strung above the cage, and no rules except one: survive.
• I rolled my shoulders as I stepped inside, the metal door clanging shut behind me. My boots echoed across the concrete as I shrugged off my hoodie, revealing my bare torso—scars, ink, and muscle layered like armor.
• Across the cage, a thick slab of meat named Mando cracked his knuckles. He was at least six-five, and built like a truck. Judging from the grin he was flashing me, he thought this would be easy. That meant only one thing—he's new around these parts.
• Good.
• The bell clanged and the crowd erupted, and I launched.
• A left jab, clean and sharp, sliced across Mando's cheek. He stumbled but recovered fast, and swung at my ribs. I let him connect—just enough for him to feel confident.
• Then I twisted, and slammed my fist into his side. Once. Twice. A third time for good measure. He grunted and backpedaled, his eyes wide now.
• There it is. Fear.
• I smirked, spitting blood onto the floor.
• “Come on,” I growled. “Thought you wanted a fight.”
• Mando charged. I ducked the swing and nailed him in the kidney, then gave his jaw an uppercut, hard enough to make his teeth rattle and he crashed against the cage.
• The crowd was chanting my name now—“Castle! Castle!”—but I tuned them out.
• This isn’t for them, it's for me.
• I'd been coming out here ever since I was eighteen. After the death of my mum—the one good thing I had in my life—this acted as a good outlet for all my rage and bitterness.
• I threw another punch but just before my fist landed, he flashed through my mind.
• Angel.
• The soft fall of his lashes.
• The way his eyes appear hooded when he's turned on.
• The sound of his voice, low and dangerous when he said—
• “Open up for me, baby boy.”
• Fuck.
• My hesitation lasted half a second but it was enough.
• Mando’s right hook came out of nowhere and cracked across my jaw like thunder. My vision tilted and before I could comprehend what was going on, I was slammed back against the cage.
• The pain sliced through my entire body, and just like that, the rage returned.
• I saw red as I lunged forward like a beast, my fists flying—one, two, three, four—each strike punishing and deliberate.
• His nose burst open and his lip split, causing blood to coat my knuckles. But I didn't stop.
• I slammed him to the floor and straddled him, throwing another hit, and another, until someone yelled for the bell.
• Mando’s form was limp beneath me when I got up, my chest heaving as blood dripped from my hands.
• Yet all I could think about was him.
• It was just one night. One damn night, and Angel Di Cristina is in my head like a goddamn ghost.
• I stalked off the floor without waiting for the payout. Tomas tossed me a towel, and I wiped the blood off my face in silence.
• “You good?” he asked.
• I didn’t answer because no, I wasn't good.
• I showered in the grungy locker room, fast and cold, scrubbing the fight off my skin but not the frustration burning in my veins.
• By the time I slid into my leather jacket and threw a leg over my Ducati, my jaw still ached from Mando’s hit, and my head was still full of Angel’s voice.
• I twisted the throttle and drove into the night, feeling the engine roar under me.
• I had a meeting to get to and a wine supplier to charm. And maybe—if I was lucky—some peace to fucking mind. But I doubt it.
• There's no peace for me. Not with those damn gray eyes haunting me.