Santori Reborn (The Santori Trilogy Book 2)

by Maris Black

  Ugh. God. Get out of my head. I scrubbed at my eyes as if that would do any good.

  And what of Layla, the gorgeous but infuriating Mexi-bitch? Would Jamie want to get back with her if I wasn’t around? If he decided that’s what he wanted, it wouldn’t be difficult to make it happen. Layla seemed to like Trey a lot, but he was no Jamie Atwood. She would be stupid to pass up the opportunity to get Jamie back, and I could see it in her eyes every time she looked at him that she knew it, too.

  No, Jamie probably didn’t need to go back there. I was trying to control the situation again, but fuck it. The compulsion was too strong to ignore. Maybe I could get him a place in Vegas. An apartment and an office, or an apartment with an office. He seemed to really enjoy getting out of the apartment to go to work, saying that it motivated him and made him feel legit, so it would definitely need to be both. Of course, I could always just give him money, which I planned to do anyway, but money wouldn’t ensure that he stayed close by. He could take the money I gave him and do like I once suggested—buy a house on the golf course for him and Cameron. Jesus, that would burn me up inside.

  By the time the three hydrocodone pills I’d taken started to kick in, I was nearly crazy with worry. My plans for Jamie had gotten increasingly nonsensical, and in the end I had circled back to keeping him with me and telling Theo to go fuck himself.

  I don’t know when I got up off of the sofa and moved to bed, but that’s where I woke up the next morning with a killer case of cotton mouth and about two gallons of pee in my bladder. After I got myself presentable, I decided to go downstairs and be the boss for a change. I’d been MIA for days, and I needed to at least make an appearance and remind everyone who was in charge.

  Steve was still upset with me. I could tell because his usual incessant banter was absent. He was distant and cool, and I wondered if he and Jamie had been talking. If he knew I’d tried to break up with him. I say tried because I had no idea if I’d succeeded or failed at it. He’d said we would talk when he got back, so I guess I’d find out then.

  “How’s Jamie?” I asked Steve finally. I leaned against the front desk and watched for signs of hostility in his expression, but he seemed resigned.

  “Fine. He called me at noon and told me a little about what’s going on. He’d already talked to some fighters and gotten some pictures. Seems like he’s having a really good time.”

  I got the feeling the implication was that Jamie was having a good time despite me being an asshole.

  “That’s good,” I said. “Did he send you any of the pictures?”

  “Why don’t you look on his blog if you want to know what he’s up to? I check it every day. He incorporates a lot of humor into his articles, and it’s really entertaining even if you’re like me and know nothing about fighting.”

  Okay, that made me feel as bad as I’m sure Steve had intended. Why hadn’t I been following Jamie’s blog? I paid for it, but was that really enough? I should have been a more supportive partner. I’d just been so preoccupied with other shit I hadn’t noticed I wasn’t giving enough. On the other hand, Jamie had helped me every step of the way with the spa and with anything else he could.

  “Have you finished choosing decorations for the spa?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

  Steve sniffed. “Decorations? You make it sound like we’re using Christmas lights and streamers.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way, and you know it. Hell, I don’t know design speak.”

  “If you want to see my plans, come take a look.”

  He led me over to the nearly-finished spa, which I’d already checked out when I first came down. All of the basic structural things were done. The sheetrock was up and painted. Flooring and wall tiles in pale shades of salmon, sand, and dusty blue had been installed, as had crystal chandeliers and high-end cabinetry. There was a good bit left to do, but it was actually beginning to look like a spa rather than a construction zone. It was breathtaking.

  Steve brought out a thick scrapbook in which he had collected tons of samples. Paint chips, flooring, furniture... All manner of things that would eventually come together to create the finished look. He showed me everything from massage tables to sunken tubs. He’d even chosen a sound system so that soothing music could be piped in.

  “Wow, you’ve really taken this seriously,” I said, genuinely impressed. “It’s going to be gorgeous. In fact, it already is gorgeous.”

  “And you thought I was going to make it look like what? A unicorn pooped glitter or something?”

  “I think I told you I didn’t want it to look like it was decorated by a unicorn with a Bedazzler, but please accept my apologies for ever doubting you. This looks absolutely amazing. I never would have thought to mix these colors. And the chandeliers are a nice touch. It’s opulent but relaxing at the same time. Damn fine job.” I patted him awkwardly on the back.

  “You don’t think I spent too much, do you?”

  “To be honest, I barely glanced at the proposals before I signed them and sent them back. I wanted no expense spared for this thing, and despite the fact that I mentioned unicorns and Bedazzlers, I really trust you when it comes down to it. I just enjoy giving you a hard time.”

  “What is this, bonding time?” The angle of Steve’s brow said he thought I was full of shit.

  “No, it’s Kage-being-grateful time. Now stop giving me grief.”

  “Fine. I’m glad you like the job I’m doing for you.” Still so formal. He was really fucking pissed.

  “You know, something occurred to me concerning you and this spa, and I wanted to get your opinion on it.”

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “How would you feel about getting away from that front desk and managing the spa instead?”

  His eyes stretched to the size of softballs. “Don’t tease me, Kage. Are you serious?” When I nodded, he said, “Hell yeah I’d like to manage it. Does that mean more money?”

  “Of course. I haven’t worked up the numbers yet, but you would be making significantly more money. It’s time you got a raise and a promotion, and I can see how much you love working with the spa.”

  “But do you think I’m qualified? I mean I don’t want to talk you out of it, but I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  “Had you ever done interior design before?”

  “Well, no. Not for money. Just decorated a little for friends and family. But I watch design shows all the time, and I guess I just picked it up.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have any problem learning the skills needed to run the place you decorated. We’ll get you some classes. There must be some resources online to help you learn how to run a spa. Let me know what you find, and we’ll get you trained up. This is something new to all of us, and there’s going to be a learning curve. I know I could advertise for a manager with experience, but I’d rather give the job to you. Why don’t you take a little time to think about it before you decide?”

  “No,” Steve blurted. “I don’t need to think about it. I just need to get busy figuring out how to do it. Oh, my God, I swear you will not regret this.”

  I smiled and looked around the new spa again. “I know I won’t. And I’m giving you a bonus for the design work you’ve already done. I’ll go right now and make sure they get it into your next paycheck.”

  Steve touched a hand to his chest and blinked away tears of joy. “You might be a complete and total asshole right now because of the way you’re treating Jamie, but I love you anyway.” He threw his arms around me and tried to squeeze me to death.

  I was suddenly all too aware of the gun—Gen 4 Glock 19, I reminded myself—concealed in the holster at my waist. What had Aaron called that position? Appendix carry. Hell, yeah, I was learning. I was also noticing how much more powerful I felt with a gun strapped to me.

  Steve backed away from me and glanced at my waist. Right at my gun. I could see the suspicion written all over his face, but he didn’t call me out on it. He just took a deep b
reath and changed the subject back to the one thing I didn’t want to discuss.

  “Now about Jamie. You need to set things right, Kage. I know you love him, and he’s insane over you. Trying to get along with your uncle’s business partner is one thing, but when you let it ruin the only real relationship you’ve ever had… Well, that’s just tragic. I know how you feel about that boy. I can see it in your eyes every time you look at him. You were so different before you met him. I can’t believe you’d let go of that happiness just to please someone else, let alone someone you just met.”

  I ran a hand through my hair and wished I could teleport out of there. “You don’t understand the whole story, Steve, and I’m not at liberty to share it with you. Just know that I love Jamie more than my own life. I would die for him, okay? I would actually die for him, and that’s all you need to know. Conversation over.”

  I left Steve with his mouth hanging open. Let him chew on that for a while. I was done wasting time trying to explain myself to people who couldn’t possibly understand.

  CHAPTER 10

  JAMIE

  It was hard to focus on work with Kage occupying my every waking thought. Damn him for ruining my excitement for the event. I moved through the hotel’s crowded spaces like a zombie with a camera and hoped nobody would speak to me unless I chose to speak to them first. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk. Just let me get enough content for next week’s blog posts and get the hell out of there.

  The worst part is that I had no idea where I’d go. If Kage and I were really going to split up, I needed to collect my things from the apartment, and then what? I really didn’t want to go back to Georgia. That felt like a death sentence.

  I managed to keep my mind clear enough to ask a few questions at Friday night’s press conference, which was held in the hotel, but I was more than relieved when it was over and I could head up to my room and breathe. I just wanted to lie down in my bed and worry. God, I was pathetic.

  I shouldered my camera and pushed my way through the crowd that seemed to grab at me like human quicksand. I was getting claustrophobic.

  When I finally reached the exit, Anthony Rodriguez stood in the doorway, blocking my passage out. I had seen him lurking around, talking to reporters and bloggers, doing early promo for the upcoming fight. Kage had declined to do any live promo this time around because of the responsibilities of his new business, but Anthony seemed more than willing to make the rounds. I had avoided getting anywhere near him so far, but now here he was. Forcing me to interact with him. The way his eyes met mine and held, I had no illusions that this was an accidental meeting.

  His dark hair was slicked back, and his natural deep tan contrasted with the white dress shirt he wore open to the third button, revealing the beginnings of an impressive nest of black chest hair. His bio said he was born in Spain but raised in America, the only son of a successful businessman and a fashion model. I hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to google photos of his parents, and my suspicion was confirmed. Both of his parents were out-of-this-world gorgeous. Anthony wore the same neat beard as his father, who had also passed along his six-foot-one stature and perfect body proportions to his only son, but the warm brown eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips had definitely come from his mother. In other words, Anthony Rodriguez was not at all hard to look at.

  He was also Kage’s upcoming opponent.

  I took a deep breath and prepared for the worst, because as handsome as he was, the guy was intimidating as hell. His kicks were the stuff legends were made of, and he had knockout power with his fists and elbows. As if that weren’t enough, the lethal striker was just as dangerous on the ground as he was on his feet. He was a good match-up for Kage— a scary one, really— because their skill sets were so similar. Fighters who were known for their superior striking rarely had high-level jiu-jitsu skills to match, so when two of these unusual athletes met in the Octagon, you could pretty much bet it was going to be a bloodbath. No doubt this would be the most challenging fight either Kage or Rodriguez had ever faced.

  I was so damn wrung out, and I just wanted to get to my room without an altercation. There was a lot of testosterone flying around at these UFC events, and if any one of the fighters had reason to give me a hard time at this particular point in time, it was this one.

  “Baby Kage,” Anthony said under his breath as I approached, just loud enough for me to hear. The Spanish accent of his parents was barely detectable, but I had noticed it a few times in the way the occasional R rolled off of his tongue.

  “Cute.” I smirked at him, cursing the tell-tale irritation that I was certain showed on my face. “You can just call me Jamie.”

  He didn’t move, even when I had to stop to keep from walking into him. I raised my gaze from his chest to his dark brown eyes that bored into mine as he leaned a hand casually on the door frame, making it clear that he wasn’t quite ready to let me pass. “So you and the Machine are living together, huh? I saw it on Twitter.”

  “Fucking Twitter,” I growled. “Nobody can have any privacy anymore.”

  Anthony surprised me by laughing. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and suddenly he didn’t look so intimidating. “You’re a celebrity now, kid. You signed on the dotted line. What did you expect?”

  “You make it sound like I sold my soul to the devil or something.”

  “Didn’t you?” At my awkward silence, he continued. “I know I did. This business is the devil.”

  I was thinking more along the lines of Kage being the devil in my case, but I didn’t say so. Instead, I said, “It was nice chatting with you, but I really need to get to my room.”

  “Chatting with me?” Anthony didn’t move, but his smile broadened. “But you didn’t ask me any questions. Isn’t that your job, to ask questions? You asked that human blanket Mark Felder a couple, and the girl fighters. I feel a little cheated. Do you not find me interesting enough for your blog?”

  “Of course I find you interesting,” I said. “I find all fighters interesting, but that doesn’t mean I interview all of them. I’ve never interviewed Michael Kage, either.” It still felt funny calling him that, but I had to be careful to maintain a professional distance when I was in this world.

  “I noticed that,” Anthony said. “But then you probably know everything there is to know about him. You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I know that you’re of Spanish descent and that you train at Ludwig’s gym in south Florida. I know your record is 10-2, you’re a decorated kickboxer, and you earned your jiu-jitsu blackbelt under the Gracies.”

  “Wrong. I recently left Ludwig’s and moved to Vegas to train with the Alphas.” He wagged his eyebrows. “That makes us neighbors.”

  “I’ll make a note of that,” I told him, tugging nervously at my camera strap where it dug into my shoulder.

  “Hey, not to be rude, but you really don’t seem like a real reporter. I feel like maybe there’s a conflict of interest going on here. Like maybe you’re favoring Kage over me. Is that what they taught you in your journalism classes, or do you even have a degree? Some people think you just got involved in reporting MMA news just to try to give your boyfriend a media advantage.”

  “Of course not,” I said. “This is my job. I went to school for it, and I earned it. It has absolutely nothing to do with Kage.”

  Anthony shrugged. “Sure seems like it. You’re not interested in interviewing the number two Welterweight contender? MMA Daily just asked me for a video interview, and I turned them down.”

  “Why did you do that? They’re huge.”

  “They wanted an exclusive, and I thought it would be interesting to be interviewed by you. I couldn’t do both.”

  I frowned. “So you chose me? Why? I’m nobody.”

  He grinned. “You’re my opponent’s boyfriend. I could really use some dramatic press, and that’s pure drama right there. How much do you want to bet it goes viral? Think about what that would mean. I guarantee it would help you
just as much as it would help me.”

  The guy had a point. Interviewing Kage’s opponent before their fight would cause a lot of drama, and people loved drama. Social media would be ravenous for it.

  Anthony must have seen the change on my face the moment I began to consider his proposition, because he gave me a smug wink. “Meet me in my room tomorrow?”

  I sighed. “Sure, why not?”

  He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Give me your number, and I’ll text you the room number and time.” He tapped in the digits as I rattled them off, and then he slipped his phone back into his pocket and stepped aside to let me pass. “Thanks, Jamie. And don’t worry. This is a brilliant idea.”

  I waved to him over my shoulder without looking back as I made my way to the elevators, wondering what kind of shit storm Anthony and I were about to start. Regardless of whether or not our video went viral, Kage was certainly not going to be thrilled. But this was journalism, dammit, and I couldn’t allow Kage to dictate my future. Especially one who was in the process of trying to break up with me. I was an adult now, and I had a career to build, and Kage might not be in the picture much longer.

  It was hard to drag myself out of bed the next morning. My mind had kept me up worrying all night just like I had known it would, and the last thing I remembered was crying into my pillow. I felt like I’d gotten no sleep at all. A quick glance in the bathroom mirror revealed a face I didn’t want to claim, with pale skin, puffy eyes, and hideous dark circles. I took a long shower, and that helped some.

  After my shower, I had a text message waiting. My heart jumped when I saw the notification because my first thought that maybe Kage had come to his senses and was texting to apologize and beg me back. Instead, it was Anthony Rodriguez. He wanted me to meet him in his room at noon for a room service lunch and interview.