Fighter:A BWWM Romance Triangle

By: Sadie Black

Chapter 1


The girl who sat across from Kade Holland had a pretty face — what a shame it was attached to her fat, pig body. As she prattled on about qualifications and relevant experience, Kade wondered if losing sixty pounds would do her any good. With the weight gone her breasts would be stellar, but he doubted anything short of plastic surgery would save her. What a waste of a woman.

"... and so that's why I think I offer the Ultimate Fighting League the best social media expertise out of any of the candidates."

Focus returned to Kade's eyes as her rambling ended. He'd already forgotten her name. Vanessa? Victoria?

"That’s truly fascinating," he replied. Nothing she said to him had registered. The resume she brought to him remained untouched on his desk; he didn't even bother to glance at it. "I think that's been a very thorough review of your talents. I’m sure you’re aware that there are a lot of other candidates we’re interviewing,” Kade didn’t wait for her to answer one way or the other. “But I promise you, Violet, I'll have someone call you personally to inform you of our verdict."

"It's Vanessa," the girl mumbled, eyes downcast. Kade rose from his chair, not missing a beat. Her name couldn’t possibly mean less to him.

"Of course. You have my sincere apologies — I must have gotten swept up in the blue of your eyes. The way the light hits them leaves them with this incredible violet hue. A Freudian slip. I'm sure you understand."

Flustered, Vanessa rose from her chair as Kade escorted her to the door.

"I um, well, no one's ever told me that before."

Likely because no man had ever found the strength to look away from the train wreck of a body.

Kade smiled. "I like to think that I notice beauty in the details."

Violet, Vanessa, whoever she was, went red. Kade didn’t allow the mindless chit-chat to break his pace, guiding her out of his office as fast as possible.

"Please check out with my assistant, Karen, and make sure your contact information is correct in our files."

Thunder thighs brushed against each other as she walked out into the lobby. "Thank you, Mr. Holland. I—"

"Thank you, Violet," he insisted, and then closed the door before she interrupted again. A lofty sigh parted from his lips, and he ran a hand in frustration down the side of his face. The grit of barely-there stubble caught against his palm, decorating his square chin and broad jaw with a shadow of masculinity. It was nearing the end of the day, and so far not a single candidate had been a good fit. Sure, he’d seen plenty of talent over the afternoon. But not a single woman with a body worth remembering, let alone a body worth fucking. He'd been looking to hire on a new piece of eye candy to have fun with, but at this rate he'd have to offer the position to some… guy. If there was one thing the UFL had enough of, it was testosterone.

"Excuse me, Mr. Holland," Karen's voice twittered from the intercom. "Shall I send in your next appointment?"

Probably another disappointment. Kade returned to his desk and slumped into his chair.


"Nicole Washington."

Kade pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk, withdrawing the documented filed under Nicole Washington's name. He placed it over Violet's, then closed the drawer.

"Send her in."

"Right away, sir."

Fifteen seconds passed and Karen let the next candidate into Kade's office. The second she walked in, Kade’s phony manners disappeared as his eyes slid down over her body. A tight black dress, just long enough to be professional, accentuated her hourglass waist. Her generous breasts peeped out the slightest bit from the neckline of her dress. On the lower half, the beautiful curve of her hips led into juicy thighs, and legs that went on for days. Long black hair fell over her shoulders, alive with wavy volume. Dark skin glowed with health and beauty. And her lips—

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Holland," Nicole said. Thank God her voice didn't ruin the package. Kade couldn't count how many girls he'd met who'd flaunted perfect bodies and spoiled it all with their helium voices and toddler vocabularies. Her voice was as nuanced and sensual as her curves. It didn't matter what her credentials were, she could be a gas station attendant for all he cared. She was the complete package; the job was hers. It was high time he indulged in some dark meat, and there was no finer cut than the one that had just walked into his office.

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