The Gender Game by Bella Forrest (historical books to read txt) 📗

building and headed straight to the front row, where he stopped in front of the man who matched the photo in the wallet. Viggo cleared his throat to get his attention.

"Oh!" the man said, leaping to his feet and patting down his coat disbelievingly. He took the wallet. "I didn't even realize it was missing. Thank you, sir!"

Viggo nodded curtly before turning away and heading back down the aisle to stand at the end of it, where he continued his perusal of the room. Dozens of people eyed Viggo and whispered among themselves, obviously having recognized him. This made me feel even more so that Viggo's excuse for not fulfilling his full potential as a fighter was a load of bull. He was already recognized practically everywhere he went. I couldn't imagine that moving up a league would make that much of a difference in his life when he was already used to being spotted and stared at. There was a deeper reason for Viggo's reluctance to fight, but I knew better than to bring up the subject again.

I turned my thoughts back to the thief. I hated to imagine what lay in store for him. One thing was certain, he wouldn't be going pickpocketing again in a hurry.

Finally, the main doors closed. The lights dimmed, and the spotlights shone down on the cage in the center, as well as two aisles on either side of the stadium where, presumably, the fighters were soon to emerge. Large magnifying screens that I hadn't even noticed before lit up around the arena.

Stirring music blasted from speakers and the screens mirrored the two brightly lit, yet still empty corners of the stadium. Not empty for long though. The first fighter, Rosen, stepped out to a round of cheers. He was dark-haired, six feet tall, and wearing bright red shorts. He beat his fists together, protected by stiff fingerless gloves. He stalked down the aisle, climbed into the cage, and bounced around, flexing his jaw and baring his tooth guard as he waited for his opponent.

Next was Cruz's entrance, to a much lesser welcome than Rosen. Half the crowd booed as he made his way down to the cage. His skin was tanned, and he was also about six feet tall. As the two fighters leveled with each other in the cage and the fight began, I looked discreetly in Viggo's direction. His jaw was set firmly, his expression stoic as he watched the fight begin. Though his eyes still roamed the audience, he was obviously interested in watching the fight.

I wondered what he was thinking. Not even the slightest bit of longing? Of reconsideration?

Who knew? His expression wasn't letting on, so I resumed my focus on the fight.

Cruz, the underdog, was already proving himself to be a very worthy opponent. As the first round progressed, he dominated at every turn, sending Rosen spiraling into defense mode. I found myself clenching my fists as I yelled out instructions to the losing fighter (in my mind). Come on, get out of the corner! Watch his leg! No! He's going to—

At the beginning of the second round, Cruz took Rosen down, where they began grappling.

I became so wrapped up in the fight, I only realized Viggo had been closely watching me at the end of the second round. As our eyes met, I felt an odd flurry in my chest. It was the idea of him taking interest in me enough to study me, when until now, his general instinct had been to look anywhere but at me.

His expression was curious, with a hint of amusement, his olive eyes reflecting the bright lights. "You really like all this, don't you?"

I nodded, grinning in spite of myself.

He went quiet as the third round began—Cruz still dominating—though I couldn't help but keep glancing at Viggo to see if he was still watching me. He stopped, or at least, didn't get caught by me again.

By the end of the fourth round, Cruz scored a knockout. The stadium erupted in cheers, claps and whistles. Cruz had won himself some new fans.

"Do you want a drink?" Viggo asked me, flexing his shoulders.

"Yeah," I said. The atmosphere was hot and tense.

We moved over to one of the food stalls, where the vendor handed Viggo two bottles of water, free of charge. A perk of being a warden here tonight, apparently.

The water was deliciously cool as it glided down my throat. I breathed out in satisfaction as I downed the whole bottle in less than a minute. I scrunched it up in my hand and aimed it at a trash can. Viggo was slower in finishing his bottle. Now that everyone had a break before the next contenders entered the cage, he was alert again to monitor the crowd.

I joined him in examining the audience… and that was when I noticed a child. A girl wandering down one of the aisles by herself. She looked no older than five. Her blonde hair in bunches, she was clutching a stuffed bear to her chest and looking quite frightened as she gazed around.

I nudged Viggo with my elbow, drawing his attention to the girl as I began to move toward her.

Approaching, I bent down to her level before Viggo could, as I figured she'd take my advance better than his. "You okay?" I asked. "Where are your parents?"

The corners of her lips turned downward at my question, tears filling her eyes. She shook her head, clueless.

"Okay," I said, picking her up. "Come with us."

"We'll have an announcement made," Viggo said, leading me down the aisle. We circled the outskirts of the ground level until we arrived at a wide desk, behind which sat two men in smart black suits.

One of them picked up a microphone and made an announcement for the child, his voice filling the entire stadium. About three minutes later, a young couple came racing toward us, their faces glowing with relief.

The mother, a pretty blue-eyed blonde, looked at me with gratitude as