Iron Rose

Iron Rose A Dark MMA/Mafia Romance Molly Briar Copyright Copyright © 2023 by Molly Briar All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. Contents 1. Author's Warning 2. Prologue 3. Chapter 1 4. Chapter 2 5. Chapter 3 6. Chapter 4 7. Chapter 5 8. Chapter 6 9. Chapter 7 10. Chapter 8 11. Chapter 9 12. Chapter 10 13. Chapter 11 14. Chapter 12 15. Chapter 13 16. Chapter 14 17. Chapter 15 18. Chapter 16 19. Chapter 17 20. Chapter 18 21. Chapter 19 22. Chapter 20 23. Chapter 21 24. Chapter 22 25. Chapter 23 26. Chapter 24 27. Chapter 25 28. Chapter 26 29. Chapter 27 30. Chapter 28 31. Chapter 29 32. Chapter 30 33. Chapter 31 34. Chapter 32 35. Chapter 33 36. Chapter 34 37. Chapter 35 38. Chapter 36 39. Chapter 37 40. Chapter 38 41. Chapter 39 42. Chapter 40 43. Chapter 41 44. Chapter 42 45. Chapter 43 Back of the Book things Author's Warning There are many things in this book that some audiences will find disturbing. I intentionally open my e-books on this page so that we can, rightfully, protect our minds and our hearts. This book is meant for entertainment. I don’t want my attempts to amuse the reader to unintentionally cause harm. So, if you’re un-bothered, feel free to skip ahead! If you’re concerned, here’s a list of what this book contains. This book has: Torture of Non-Main Characters Gruesome underground fights, and graphic depictions of fight-related injuries and death F/F/M scene that moves the plot along, but F/M romance with no cheating Depiction of self-inflicted injuries during mental breakdown of main character Graphic sexual content, primal/prey, with knives and light blood play Consensual non-consent between main characters Prologue Rose - France “Good job on beating the frog,” a British man called to me as I walked out of the octagon to the ladies locker room. He was using “frog” as a derogatory term for a Frenchman. I was weightless from the high of my victory, and his comment amused me. When I paused to look at him, I smiled. Hello, gorgeous. I had won my first underground championship fight against the Frenchman nicknamed “The Grenade” in his own gym. He was a tough fight. My face was swollen, my lip was cut, and I was exhausted, a little battered and bruised. But none of that mattered, because I had won. Not bad for a computer science drop out from the provinces. He was in an expensive suit, or maybe a tux? It’s not like I’d know the difference. He was a casual devil with icy blue eyes, blond hair, and the smattering of a five o’clock shadow. The navy blue of his blazer enhanced the gray flecks in his eyes and he tucked a hand into his pants pocket. He was handsome. Downright sexy, actually. In a sophisticated way. “Yeah?” I asked. “You didn’t come here hoping to watch a woman get beat?” “Not at all.” His voice was low, with a resonant quality, as though he was humming a low note. “I came to see if you could beat him.” His eyes roamed up and down my body, but it wasn’t out of cheap sexual appreciation. At least not completely. There was something in his face—was it pride? Intrigue? Gray eyes were always a thing of fascination for me. They seemed less expressive than the darker ones. Maybe because I always associated them with cold and snow. That placidness and calm seemed to extend to the rest of his face, and the casualness of his demeanor. He was at ease, but even that seemed like it was designed to keep secrets. “I’m pleased to see that you have,” he said with a tilt of his head. I checked him out, examining him from head to toe. I was looking at him with cheap appreciation. It had been a while since I’d been with a man. My girlfriend and I weren’t exclusive, and the adrenaline coursing through my veins needed more of an outlet. I needed more of a rush. I stepped up to him, slowly. My bare feet whisper soft on the ground. One of his eyebrows went up. I took off my right glove and wrapped my hand around his blue, striped, silk tie. “I’ve pleased you?” I asked with a coy smile. His grin widened. “Why don’t I take you out for a drink? I have…” Before he could finish his asinine sentence, I fisted his lapel and dragged him into the women’s locker room. I pushed the door open, and it swung closed behind us. It was the only sound apart from the squeak of his loafers on the tiled ground, and a small chuckle coming from somewhere in his chest. I shoved him against a row of lockers, and the sound of the metal giving in to his weight echoed in the empty room. The place was humid from the showers and lingering water. It smelled… well… like every locker room in every gym that ever existed. The man’s eyebrow was still raised as he looked at me. “Aren’t we being a little forward?” He asked, with a grin. “Sex and violence go hand-in-hand,” I told him, giving him a piece of my truth. “A good fight makes me want to fuck.” My voice sounded low and husky to my own ears. I pressed my body against his, and felt his cock come to life. “Nothing like proximity to death to make you want to live.” He nodded in agreement, his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Sex and violence.” He bit his lip. “Pick a safe word, Miss.” He instructed. “You’re the one that’s going to need a safe word.” “Fine.” He finally smiled completely, flashing straight, white teeth and a dimple on his left cheek. He looked at me