The Gender Fall (The Gender Game #5)

I met his gaze head on and scowled, though my heartrate had shot up at the sound of my real name. Now wasn’t the time to panic… it was just the other shoe. Dropping. A part of me had expected this.

“Jacob is my middle name,” I replied, now tightening my own grip. “You’ll excuse me for wanting to be out of the spotlight down here. And there were… extenuating circumstances that came into play that night.” It was better to hold back the truth—avoid linking myself to Violet in any way.

“Extenuating circumstances?” he drawled, his voice turned toxic.

“It was me,” Amber cut in smoothly, fidgeting with embarrassment. Cruz’s mouth made an ‘o’ of surprise as his gaze was diverted from our staring contest over to her. “Kurtis and I were out walking, and… well…” A sob caught in her throat, and she turned away slightly. Cad came forward to take her shoulders.

“Actually, it was my fault my nephew lost his chance to best you,” announced Ms. Dale. “Jeff here was busy at his job, and I couldn’t find Vivian anywhere. I panicked, you see, and I called Viggo. It turned out to be a bit of a misunderstanding—apparently she had written me a note, you see, alerting me that she was going to be out with Kurtis, but it somehow slipped off the counter and under the refrigerator. I was so embarrassed, and by the time Viggo showed up, they were just returning. I feel terrible he missed out.”

“If something had happened to Vivian and I’d still gone on with the match… well, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself,” I said, my voice heated as I realized how close that lie was to truth.

Cruz gazed at me, our hands still locked in a private grappling match. “Why didn’t you ask for a rematch?” he asked, curiosity lining the nooks and crannies of his face. “I was so excited to beat down the upstart from the amateur leagues.”

I jerked my hand from Cruz’s and took a step back, tugging on the edges of my coat. “Because it’s none of your damn business,” I growled.

“Mr. Cruz!” Jeff cut in, rounding on the man with his hands crossed over his chest. “Now, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you my brother was the Viggo Jacob Croft—to be honest, I have never approved of his love for fighting. Not that I don’t enjoy a good fight.” He held up his hands in badly formed fists, his shoes slapping loudly on the floor as he did his best to dance and weave. Cruz watched him, a sort of bemused wince coming across his features. Thankfully, after a second, Jeff stilled and resumed his position. “But Viggo had responsibilities that took priority, and he had shirked them for too long. After that night, we asked him to stop fighting. We couldn’t keep worrying like that. With myself gone, and young MacDougall courting Vivian here, well… we wanted to make her safety a priority. Since my work took me out of the city, it fell to Viggo to pick up the reins of our familial obligation.”

Cruz gave me a hard look, and I shrugged, grimacing noncommittally. After a pause that seemed to stretch out forever, he nodded. “I understand. Life is constantly complicated by our need to protect our women, eh? Well, it really is a shame, if you don’t mind me saying so, Jeff. Jacob was quite the fighter, from what I heard. And I do honestly believe he had a chance. Probably not a good one, but hey—we underdogs have to stick together, right?”

“I guess so,” I said with another shrug. “I hope you understand the need for my disguise, though. Since my brother asked me to give up the career and focus on family, my fans haven’t really taken well to the decision. I just want them to get a nice private tour of the stadium without people interrupting.”

Cruz clapped me on the back—harder than was necessary, but I held back my natural response to shrug him off—and laughed. “Well, it’s no matter, and hey! You’re here! It would be my pleasure to escort you around the stadium you almost got to fight in.”

It was meant as a jab, but I had no regrets about missing that night. Violet’s life had been on the line, and my fight with Cruz.... it had only been a fight. One I hadn’t even been keen to sign up for in the first place. But I had a part to play now, and so I winced appropriately. The gesture seemed to appease him, because he immediately turned to Ms. Dale and Amber, extending his arms.

“Now, ladies, let us get on with the show. We only have a short amount of time to see everything.”

Ms. Dale and Amber beamed up at him, manifesting the sense of joyous awe only really seen on the faces of fans, and slipped their arms through his.

“You know, Jacob is really underplaying the love of his fans,” said Amber. “Auntie Abigail, do you remember when that one girl, Samantha something or another, followed him home from a fight? She tried to sneak into his window!”

“It was positively disgraceful,” Ms. Dale gaped. “And you shouldn’t bring that up in Mr. Cruz’s company. It’s not polite for a young woman to talk about.”

“Oh, no, madam, I would love to hear more,” said Cruz with a chuckle. “I too have had a few more… zealous fans put me in compromising positions. It’s nice to know I’m not alone.”

Ms. Dale studied him, then leaned over conspiratorially. “A woman tried to force her way into the shower room after one of Viggo’s fights. I was so mortified when I heard! And grateful to stadium security for catching her! Can you imagine? Oh, it is a shame, a real shame, that more women don’t seem to understand how to be a proper young lady.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as Cruz laughed again, and I tuned out of the conversation. He led us toward the stairs, ones I knew well. An odd feeling was coming over me—the sensation of my current life meeting my former one in strange ways.