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Tales You Win by Bea Paige Book

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Tales You Win by Bea Paige Book Read Online And Epub File Download


Overview: Grim…

A nickname given to me by my father, the Ruler of Tales, an East End underground fight club.

Tales you win. Heads you lose.

And the fighters of Tales never lose.

The men my father ruled were his faithful soldiers sworn to protect the club, him, me.

Until one day, his most loyal soldier, Beast, makes a decision that changes my story forever.

But this is no fairy tale and I don’t own a crown.

This is real life. Bloody, violent, and filled with alpha men who use their fists to settle every dispute.

And if the man who calls me Princess thinks he can break my heart and get away with it, he can think again.


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Tales You Win by Bea Paige Book Read Online Chapter One


It started with a… kiss fight.


“Fists up, protect your face, keep light on your toes,” the growly bastard yells at me.


“I’m trying!” I snap, stomping my foot against the canvas in frustration as I drop my guard and glare at Beast, my dad’s enforcer and my fucking bodyguard. Sweat trickles down my spine and between my tits, causing my t-shirt to stick to my chest and back.


“Has Princess had enough for one day?” he asks, snorting with laughter as he pulls off the boxing pad and tussles my hair with his huge hands. We’ve been training regularly for the last six months and I’m getting stronger and fitter with every session, but Beast still runs me ragged.


“It’s Grim,” I protest, slapping his hands away.


Beast cocks his head. “Nope, still Princess to me.”


“I’m not a princess, you arsehole!”


He chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. Now are we done?”


“Not nearly, Roger,” I retort, shoving him off me and using his given name because I know it pisses him off. Ever since my dad aka The Boss, aka Carter Davidson, aka the ruler of Tales—an underground fight club—started calling me Grim after my love of reading Grimms’ Fairy Tales, Beast and the other men who work for my father started calling me Princess.


It’s fucking annoying.


His smile drops. “You ain’t too old to be put over my knee and given a spanking. Don’t push your luck, kid.”


Kid? Okay, that’s worse than being called Princess, the fucking twat. In a month I’ll be eighteen. Besides, I haven’t been a kid for a very long time. Comes with the territory of being a gangster’s daughter.


“Ha! As if you would. I think my dad would have a few things to say about an old wanker like you getting his rocks off over spanking a kid!” I sass back, knowing I’m pushing all his buttons and loving every minute of it. Firstly, he’s not all that older than me, maybe around twenty-three. Secondly, he’d never raise a hand to me, unless it’s in the ring and he’s teaching me how to defend myself. Thirdly, he might be a fucking maniac and kill people for a living, but he isn’t a predator. The guy’s a straight up saint when it comes to women. In fact, I’ve heard he’s a gentleman, except in bed when, apparently, he's an animal or rather a beast, but only to women who are well over the age of consent. Not that I’ve asked around or anything. My cheeks flush at the thought, and I preoccupy myself with trying to pull off my gloves, which is no easy feat when you don’t have the use of your fingers.


“You know that mouth of yours is gonna get you in a shitload of trouble one of these days,” Beast remarks, chucking the boxing pads he was holding at Dom—my dad’s third in command—who catches them easily.


The reflexes on that man are insane. I witnessed him catching a knife by the blade once. Straight up thought it was going to bury itself in his forehead. It didn’t, though. Dom’s got a four inch scar on his palm for the trouble. In fact, he’s covered in them. He’s been involved in more fights than the local tomcat and that tomcat takes on dogs. Both of them are certifiably insane, like all my dad’s men, or ‘soldiers’ as he calls them. Funnily enough he looks like more of a beast than Beast does with a shorn head, squashed nose from it being broken so many times, and missing half an ear from when it was ripped off by an opposing fighter in the cage.


Yeah, the fights get bloody at Tales.


“What do you mean going to get her in a shitload of trouble?” Dom asks, winking at me whilst I glare back at him. “She’s already causing a fucking problem with the local hoodrats. That fucker Hudson came over today sniffing around for Princess.”


“Hud is my friend, not a hoodrat, and I am NOT a princess!”


“Touchy subject, Princess?” Dom teases.


“Fuck you, Dom-I’ve-got-a-limp-dick,” I retort with a wan smile.


“Oh Princess, my dick most definitely limps. Have you seen the way it drags across the floor when I walk?”


Beast roars with laughter as my eyes stupidly drop to Dom’s crotch and the very sizeable bulge he has there. What is it with these men and their dick appreciation? If I had a sack of skin swinging between my legs like some elephant trunk, I wouldn’t be bragging about it. Fucking ugly if you ask me. I much prefer tits. Not that I have any… Maybe I’m a lesbian? I mull that thought over as I glance back at Beast who is watching me with a sudden intensity that makes my skin cover in goosebumps, my stomach lurch and my traitorous pussy tingle. Okay, so definitely into men then.


“Fuck sake,” I mutter under my breath.


“What’s the matter, Princess, cat got your tongue?” Beast asks, his voice low and lethal sounding.


I gulp. “Nope. Perfectly fucking fine, thank you very much,” I reply, arching a brow.


“I’ll leave you to lock up and get Princess home, yeah?” Dom asks, completely ignoring me and smirking at Beast.


“Yep. I got this,” Beast replies, turning his attention back to me as the door to the gym slams shut and Dom leaves us alone together. He stares at me, his leaf-green eyes bright in the fluorescent lights as I continue to struggle to remove my boxing gloves. “So you were saying something about me getting off on spanking kids?”


“It was a joke,” I say, rolling my eyes and turning my back on him as I stride over to the other side of the ring. Only I don’t make it that far as Beast lifts me up and chucks me over his shoulder. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING!” I scream from my upside-down position, my face practically pressed against his ridiculously firm arse.


“I thought that was obvious,” he retorts with a low, rumbly chuckle that has my insides fucking squirming.


Jesus, I need to get a grip. I do not like Roger Smith, a bland name for a man who’s far from it. “My dad will kill you if you even think about raising a hand to me.” I punch him on his arse and the back of his tree-trunk thighs. The fucker doesn’t even flinch.


“Your father has given me free rein to do whatever the fuck I want…” he warns, his voice dropping an octave or two and sounding far more sexy than it has any right to. “...Inside the ring.”


“Fuck that, you moron! Put me down!”


He chuckles, clearing his throat, then drops me unceremoniously onto the stool situated in the corner of the ring. I let out a whoosh of air from the impact and immediately stand, not liking, or perhaps liking too much, the fact that he’s towering over me all sweaty and big and fucking sexy as sin. He’s tall. Six foot five to my five foot seven. A fucking giant, no… Beast.


“Urgh, you’re an arsehole!” I say, punching him as hard as I can on the nearest bodily part which happens to be his very wide, abnormally firm, stomach. I mean there’s six packs and then there’s six packs, and his happens to be accompanied with a V muscle that turns all women’s insides liquid. Except mine, because once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all, and every fighter at Tales has one.


So I’m immune.


Except his muscles are covered in tattoos, and my immunity stops there. Tattoos are my weak spot and I happen to find them insanely attractive. My eyes rove over his bare chest, all slick with sweat as I drink in the familiar geometric patterns that criss-cross his chest and stomach, and the single eye staring at me from his right pec. Not to mention the beautifully detailed side profile of a lion, its gaze focusing on his navel. God, his tattoos are fucking epic…


“Are you gaping at my dick?” Beast asks, chuckling.


“What? No!” I reply, quickly lifting my gaze and rubbing at my sweaty, flushed cheeks.


“Then don’t be staring like that, Princess. You might give a man the wrong impression,” he says, placing his large, bear-sized hands on my shoulders. “Sit!”


I sit.


Dropping to his knees before me, he reaches for my gloved hands and starts untying them. His thick fingers are nimble and mesmerising despite their size, and don't even get me started on his hands with his wide palms, the thick wrists, the veins and the tattoos. You know what they say about a man and his hands… Wait, perhaps it’s the feet? Fuck, whatever. Either way, big hands, big dick.


“I don’t fancy you, Roger, if that’s what you’re getting at,” I say, lying through my teeth. “Your physique might turn the average bimbo with fewer brain cells than a gnat on, but not me. I prefer my men with more upstairs. Know what I mean?”


Beast scoffs and I can’t help but smile at the way he yanks at the string of my gloves. “Are we back to that Hudson prick again? Jumped-up shit who thinks he’s gonna run the world, that one. More balls than a rugby team playing at Twickenham stadium, but a lot less sense.”


“Hud is smart,” I counter. “Don’t underestimate him.”


“Princess, I make a habit of never underestimating anyone because I am smart.”


“Says the man who has ride or die tattooed on his lower stomach. Yeah, smart. More like fucking obvious,” I scoff. “Is that the male equivalent of a tramp stamp?”


Beast’s fingers still. “No, just the fucking truth. I’m a ride or die kinda man, both in life and in the bedroom. Any woman I invite into my bed can vouch for that,” he says, and I have to grit my teeth and lock down the urge to squirm. I do not want to give him the satisfaction.


“Well, whatever. I prefer the smarts. Besides, Hudson’s about a thousand times more attractive than you…” And whilst that’s not strictly true as they’re both equally attractive, just in different ways, he doesn’t need to know that.


Beast snorts, back to concentrating on what he’s doing. “If you’re trying to offend me, don’t bother, Princess. I’m not interested in the slightest. You’re my boss’s daughter, underage and entirely off fucking limits. So let’s just get back to being cool, okay?”


“What, as opposed to hot? Are you saying I’m hot, Roger? Do you want a nice tight piece of underage arse?” I don’t know why I push him like this, but I can’t seem to help myself. Not to mention the fact I’ll be eighteen in a couple of months and officially classified as an adult, so there’s that. This time he does look up, and I swallow hard at the look of anger in his eyes.


“Even if you were of fucking age, I still wouldn’t touch you.”


“You do realise that the age of consent in the UK is sixteen, right?” I say, taunting him.


“I don’t give a fuck what the law says. My age of consent is firmly fixed at twenty, got it?”


“Why twenty? You’re also considered an adult at eighteen in this country.”


“Just because…” he replies, refusing to explain. “Besides, you’re not my type.”


Removing my gloves, his fingers curling around my wrists, all warm and firm and, surprisingly, soft. For a couple of seconds he just stares at the spot where our skin touches and I wonder if he feels it too, that electric current humming between us.


“No?” I question softly, my heart racing in my chest as he leans in close. I’m pretty sure he can feel my pulse racing under his fingers.


“No,” he repeats, whispering in my ear. “I like my women with a bit of meat on their bones. Come back to me when you’ve turned into one, yeah?” I suck in an offended breath and he laughs, letting me go. “I’ll call you a cab,” he says, standing abruptly.


“I thought you were taking me home?”


“Nope.” He strides over to the other side of the ring and ducks between the ropes, dropping to the floor.


“Where are you going?” I shout after him, hating the way my voice catches and my skin burns from his touch.


“I’ve got work to do.”


“What work?” I ask, frowning.


“Carter has got wind of some news he ain’t happy with. Nothing to concern yourself with.”


“News?”


Beast ignores me “Babysitting duties are up. Catch you later, Princess.”


And with that he’s gone.


“It’s Grim!” I yell after him.


Staring at the door that Beast just left through, I grind my teeth. He’s the only one of my dad’s men who knows how to really push my buttons, the arrogant, cocky bastard. Then again he’s the only one of my dad’s men that really knows me at all. As I try to calm my thrashing heart, I reassure myself with the fact that there will come a time when I’ll be queen of this fight club and Beast will be answering to me. Though whether that’s as my lover or as my soldier isn’t clear just yet.

 



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