KIND HEARTED
ADORABLE
COMPASSIONATE
Shivika Oberoi, an inspiring and empowered woman who is the definition of grace. The famous Oberoi princess is known for her kindness and soft heartedness. She is the epitome of beauty but always tries to hide her...
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"Are you sure about this guy?" I pant as I dodge a kick aim at my head. "You should check his background more thoroughly."
I thrust my bandaged fist into Ivor's side, then tries to kick his legs and gets a fist into my stomach instead. The bastard surely knows where to punch. I jump back out of his reach and take a blow to his head. Ivor's arms shot up, protecting his head and taking the full force of my kick. He doesn't fall.
"I already checked everything. And I don't trust him. I'm just using him for my purpose" he answers.
"Be careful"
Ivor land two quick punches in my left side. I suck in a breath and ram my elbow down on his shoulder. He hisses and darts away but I know I got him. I dislocated his shoulder. My favourite move.
"You think he will be alive to execute it?" he asks half in jest, giving no indication that he is in agony. Tough bastard.
"Of course not." I sigh, rolling my shoulders.
Ivor is powerful not because he is mafia prince. He is powerful because he has a right hand man who he treats as his brother. The guy is crazy and will burn down the world if anyone threatens Ivor. Those two rules the mafia world and no one dares to fuck with them.
Ivor glares and lunges at me. I barely dodge the first two kick but the third one hit my chest. I almost lost my balance but caught myself by gripping the rope. I quickly stand and raise my fist to his face.
"Fuck this shit" he snarls and grabbed his arms, trying to relocate his shoulder. He has done it so many times that now it is normal for him.
"You accept your defeat?" I ask, lowering my hands.
"No. It's a tie" he says
"Tie" I agree
That's how it ends every time. With a tie. Since the first day we started having our weekly boxing session, every round ends in tie. We both are too stubborn to back down. And if our match continues to end, one of us will surely be dead. Considering our importance, we can't afford it.
I step out of the ring and snatch up a towel from the floor to wipe blood and sweat from my chest and arms. With a grunt, Ivor finally manage to set his arm. He will never accept my help even though it would be less painful. Pain means nothing to him. Nor to me.
I throw a clean towel at him and he catch it with his injured arm to prove a point. He dries his hair but only manage to spread the blood from his cut above his brows. His scar running on the side of his face is angry red.
Stepping inside on of the shower stall, I start the shower and clean my cuts. My ribs scream in pain and I'm dead sure I have bruised ribs. The fucker blows are packed with insane power. Not that mine were lenient. There is a reason why he will need stiches for his cut.
After getting done with shower, I change into my formal office wear. No one can guess that I'm the same guy who just fight like a maniac. I excel in hiding behind the masks. That's the one thing I learn from my childhood. Always keep your real identity hidden.
