“Ashlynn, this is my family.” He went around the table introducing her to his grandfather, his parents, skipping over Thiago, who was sitting next to Leandro’s mother, and finishing with Isabella. Relief flooded him that his sister had remembered his request that she sit next to Ashlynn. He and Isabella could shield her from their mother as much as possible.
Ashlynn offered a polite greeting to them. Isabella got up to greet them both, pulling him into a hug and shaking Ashlynn’s hand. “I’m so happy to meet you, Ashlynn. Leo has never brought a girlfriend home to meet us, so this should be a treat.” He glared at his sister, but she gave him a good-natured smile.
His father also came around the table to embrace him. “Happy to see you, Leo. You gave us a scare with that plane crash.” Then looking at Ashlynn, he said, “Welcome, Ashlynn. We’re glad you could join us for dinner.”
She smiled and shook the hand he offered her. Leandro let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The American saying so far, so good came to mind. They hadn’t eaten her alive. Yet. He could tell she was nervous as she sat next to Isabella. He smoothed his palm down her back and took the chair between her and his grandfather.
“Leo,” he said, his deep voice both stern and welcoming in a way that only his grandfather could pull off.
“Vovô, I’m glad to see you here.”
His grandfather nodded and then his gaze flicked to Ashlynn, who was talking to Isabella, and back again. He spoke in Portuguese. “Who is this girl you’ve brought to dinner?”
“She’s my girlfriend.” It was the first time he’d called her that. It was the right word, but it felt strange on his tongue. But strange in a good way, an exciting way, while at the same time not quite conveying everything he felt for her. When he’d been younger and in school, he’d had many girlfriends. They’d all been fleeting, frivolous relationships. They hadn’t felt like this.
“Does this mean no more models and strip clubs? No more videos?”
Leandro felt his face warm. “No more models and strip clubs.” Though there could be videos—private videos. If Ashlynn wanted to play around with them he wouldn’t tell her no. She’d look fucking gorgeous on camera. Now that the idea had been planted, he found that he really wanted to try it.
The older man gave a nod, and the conversation started to flow around them. His father asked about her job. His mother scoffed, “PR? What is that anyway?” Waving her hand, she continued, “Have you considered a real job? Something with numbers or products. Something you can hold in your hand. PR is all talking.” She shook her head, leveling her gaze at Leandro. “No family name, no prestigious schooling, a nothing job . . .” She shrugged and then looked at Ashlynn. “I’d expected so much more from you, Leo.”
Ashlynn’s jaw dropped ever so slightly, clearly taken aback. She paled and fidgeted with her napkin in her lap, unsure what to say or how to react. Shit. He’d forgotten just how toxic and nasty his family could be—especially his mother when she wasn’t getting her way. Thiago laughed and Leandro gave him a hard glare to shut him up.
“It is a real job, Mãe. Ashlynn works hard,” said Leandro, fighting against the flare of anger tickling up his spine. He left her other comments alone, refusing to even acknowledge them.
“Public relations is absolutely an important role in any organization.” Isabella was quick to jump in. “We’ve just approved a multimillion-dollar deal with a PR firm in LA to expand our business.”
Isabella then asked Ashlynn about her current projects, which led them to spend a few minutes talking about the WFC. The earlier tension seemed to have been forgotten by everyone except Ashlynn, whose shoulders were stiff, her movements careful and practiced, as his mother went back to drinking her champagne and offering benign comments.
“Will you stay in town long enough to come to my fight?” Leandro asked, biting into the blue crab–and-caviar appetizer. He was on a strict diet now that he was in the weight-cutting phase of his training, but he’d had to make an exception for tonight.
“Oh, Leo.” His mother sighed. “You know we can’t stand to watch that carnage,” she answered in Portuguese.
“In English, Mãe.”
His mother rolled her eyes and said in English, “You can fight if you want, but you can’t expect us to watch.”
The sad thing was that he didn’t expect it, but for some reason he couldn’t explain, he kept hoping. Disappointment settled like a dead weight right in the center of his chest. He felt Ashlynn’s hand on his thigh and looked over to see her reassuring smile. It seemed to tell him that everything would be okay, because he had her. Covering her hand with his, he gave it a squeeze, feeling like the luckiest man in the world. When he looked back up, he saw his mother shake her head as she looked down at her food. It was obvious she was unhappy with him and Ashlynn. Maybe he should’ve explained his mother to her more before bringing them together. Maybe he was rushing things.
“His fighting is better than those stupid races,” said his vovô, huffing out a breath before taking a sip of his tequila.
“You’re not still doing those, are you, Leo?” his father asked. Then, shaking his head, he added, “It looks bad for the family. You can do that when you’re young, but you’re almost thirty. Time to grow up. How do you expect to earn respect when you come into the business?”
“I’m not coming into the business, Papai. You have Isabella.” They’d only gone over this a million times, and he bristled in annoyance. Sometimes he wondered how he’d ever fit in with them.
“Stop trying to give away my job, Papai.” Isabella feigned anger, trying to defuse the tension gathering around the table.
“Okay, okay. I’m not giving anything away. There’s enough work in the company for all of you. But fighting isn’t a career. It’s a hobby. One day you’ll see that, see that you need a direction for your life.”
“That’s not what I meant anyway,” said Vovô. “Racing is dangerous.”
Leandro smiled. “Obrigado, Vovô.” His grandfather was stern and had everyone afraid of him, but occasionally he’d say things that let Leandro know he cared.
“Oh, don’t worry. He’s not racing anymore,” Ashlynn chimed in.
Vovô looked at her as if stunned she’d spoken to him.
“No, Leo doesn’t get to choose what he does anymore,” said Thiago, his eyes narrowed at Ashlynn.
Leandro felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward when she completely ignored Thiago and said, “I convinced him that it’s too dangerous. I don’t like staying up all night worrying about him.” Then she took a sip of her champagne.
They all seemed to look at him for confirmation. He shrugged and took another bite of the crab. “It’s true.”
His grandfather nodded and glanced over at Ashlynn as if she was a puzzle he was trying to figure out. Thiago sniffed and sat back in his chair, but Leandro ignored him. He didn’t want to fight with his best friend about his girl, but Thiago wasn’t ready to let it go. He leaned close to Leandro’s mom, but his voice still carried across the table when he told her that Ashlynn was using Leandro to further her career in public relations.
“Mãe, Thiago, enough. We’ll talk about this later,” he said in Portuguese, hoping to God that Ashlynn didn’t understand any of it.
They lowered their voices, but throughout the rest of dinner Leandro caught snatches of their conversation. He did his best to ignore them and kept his attention on Ashlynn and Isabella. He was glad to see that she seemed to enjoy talking to his sister. She asked her about her work at the company and her new business. Toward the end, Ashlynn even got Isabella to open up about her mysterious new girlfriend, a relationship she’d yet to tell Leandro much about.
“So, Leo,” his father said. “Will you be using the guesthouse when you come home next month? José says the penthouse won’t be remodeled in time. He told you there was a delay in procuring the marble?”
“He told me.” Leandro’s apartment was overdue for a remode
l, so he’d arranged for it to be done during his time in Las Vegas. It figured it wouldn’t be done on schedule. “If the guesthouse is free, I’ll stay there. Otherwise, I can find something. The yacht?”
“No, the guesthouse is fine. I’ll have it cleaned up for you.”
“Obrigado. Hopefully I won’t need it for more than a few months. If I have my way, I’ll have another fight scheduled by then.”
With stiff movements, Ashlynn dabbed at her mouth with her napkin and then set it down on the table. All the color had vanished from her face, and her fingers shook a little.
“Are you okay?” he asked, trying not to draw attention to the fact that she looked like she might be sick. Maybe something she’d eaten wasn’t agreeing with her.
She nodded, quick little jerks of her head. “Yeah.”
The waiter came to clear their dinner plates away, and Ashlynn excused herself to go to the ladies’ room. Vovô nudged his arm. “I like her, Leo. She’s not like the other girls you date.”
Leandro smiled, a feeling of calm coming over him for the first time since he’d sat down. “I like her too, Vovô.” More than like. A lot more.
“I hear your mother and that boy chirping across the table. They won’t like her because she’s good for you and that threatens them. Don’t let them poison you. Keep her around and don’t screw up.”
Leandro swallowed thickly and let the truth of those words wash over him. She was good for him. She made him want to be a better person. A person who could be worthy of someone like her. Nodding, he smiled and said, “Don’t worry. I don’t plan on letting her go.”
His gaze landed on his mother and Thiago cackling over some joke. He wondered if this had always been his life before Ashlynn had come along. Empty. Meaningless. Frivolous. He hoped that she wasn’t too insulted by his mother’s treatment of her tonight. Suddenly it was important that he talk to her and let her know how he valued her.
Excusing himself from the table, he went to find her.
ASHLYNN EMERGED FROM the bathroom feeling a bit steadier on her feet, although she still didn’t feel quite whole after the way she’d been dissected and picked apart. She peered into the dining room, but instead of heading back to the table, she took a right and stepped out onto the terrace that overlooked the Strip. Lights twinkled in the distance, glowing merrily in the night. The sounds of music pouring out of different bars and restaurants mingled with the traffic below and the hushed conversation and clinking of dishes from the restaurant behind her. Staring unfocused into the distance, she pulled first one and then another deep breath in, trying to get her head together.
“I’m sorry my mom’s such a bitch.” At the sound of Leandro’s quiet voice, she turned. He stood a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, a chagrined expression on his face. He studied her for a moment, rocking back on his heels. He looked so devastatingly handsome in his dark blue suit, no tie, shirt open at the collar, that her entire body vibrated with the need to go to him.
But she shook her head and licked her lips, completely unsure how to respond to that. His mom had been a bitch, but she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. His mother’s behavior wasn’t Leandro’s fault. Realizing that the silence was stretching on between them, she smiled, but then glanced back out toward the Strip, not wanting to give him the chance to see that it wasn’t quite genuine. “It’s okay,” she said, counting the different colors in the lights. Something to focus on instead of the doubt and uncertainty whirling through her like a tornado.
She felt Leandro’s strong, warm hand on her lower back. “No, it’s not okay. She was awful to you. I didn’t expect her to react that way. She was disrespectful.”
Ashlynn turned, and his arms slipped around her waist. “She . . . really didn’t like me.”
Leandro raised a hand, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I need you to know two things right now. One: Her reaction to you isn’t your fault. At all. She’d made up her mind before we’d even arrived that you aren’t good enough for me, which isn’t true. And two: I don’t give a fuck what she thinks. I care about you, minha linda. So much.”
She nodded slowly, chewing on her bottom lip. “So it doesn’t bother you that your family doesn’t think I’m good enough?”
He shook his head. “It’s only my mother—everyone else liked you, especially my grandfather. And you are good enough for me.” He dipped his head, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “You’re so much more than just good enough. You make me want to be better. I . . .” He sighed and pressed his forehead to hers. “I really like who I am with you, Ashlynn.”
His words settled over her, soothing her, working to allay her doubts and fears that maybe whatever this was between them wouldn’t work. That it didn’t have a future, as much as she wanted one.
“I think it sucks that they don’t support your fighting,” she said, sliding her arms around his shoulders and weaving her fingers into the thick hair at the nape of his neck. “I know how important it is to you, how hard you train, how seriously you take it.”
He smiled sadly. “They’ve never supported it, and they never will. I keep hoping, but I know I need to accept it. Stop hoping for things that will never happen.”
His wistful tone tugged at her heart, and she traced her fingers over his cheek. “For what it’s worth, I think what you do takes an incredible amount of athleticism, and discipline, and determination. I think it’s amazing, and I’m proud of how hard you work.”
He kissed her, soft and slow, quieting more of her doubts and fears.
“Honestly, it’s like you were raised by wolves,” she said, shaking her head.
“What do you mean?” He frowned slightly, his brows knitting together.
“Like how your dad didn’t care about you racing because it’s dangerous, only because of how it looks. It was cold.” She pressed tighter against him. “And you’re not cold at all. You’re warm and sweet.”
Sadness flickered in his eyes as he nodded slowly, acknowledging what she’d said. “You make me that way, minha linda. I’m finding all this good in myself because of you.”
She swallowed thickly against the rising tide of conflicting emotions. Hope and doubt. Fear and happiness. A swirling mix of bitter and sweet she was still trying to process. Even if she did make him want to be a better person, did that really matter if she didn’t fit in his world? If she was constantly having to fight for her place? And it wasn’t as though he fit neatly into her life either. She could lose her job if their relationship became public knowledge. They weren’t built on a solid foundation—they came from different worlds, wanted different things, had different goals. How could all of that not pull them in opposite directions and send them crashing to the ground? She didn’t want to think about all the doubt and the worry, but she couldn’t ignore it either.
Clearing her throat, she forced herself to ask the question that had been eating at her since she’d left the table. “If I’m so important to you, why didn’t you mention that you were going back to Brazil after your fight? Were you just planning to leave for months and not tell me?” Even though she knew it probably wasn’t his intention, she couldn’t help the way it made her feel as though she—or at least her feelings and her needs—didn’t mean that much to him. Or maybe it was just that his idea of “belonging to each other” meant something different to him than it did to her. It felt shitty that he might be completely fine with picking up and not seeing her for months at a time. Shitty and isolating and confusing.
The expression on his face didn’t change, and he shrugged in his usual way, all casual confidence. “I just assumed you’d come with me.”
She stepped out of his arms, hugging herself against the chill in the night air, even as relief trickled through her that he wasn’t planning to leave her. “How could you assume that? You never even talked to me about it.”
He shrugged again, smiling. “It didn’t seem like a big deal, and I’ve been focused on my fight.”
&n
bsp; She blew out a breath, trying to contain her irritation. “I know you have, but I can’t just pick up my life and come with you to Brazil for months on end. My career is here. My family is here.”
“But we’re together now,” he said, frowning and looking almost adorably confused.
She realized that Leandro was everything her mother had warned her about. He was the kind of man her mother had told her would ruin her life. Dangerously good-looking. Too charming. Cocky. Self-absorbed. The kind of man who’d always put himself first, and who got away with it because of his sex appeal and charisma and confidence. The kind of man who’d swoop in, fuck up everything she’d worked so hard for, and leave her broken and alone.
When she opened her mouth, her words came out harsher than she’d intended. “That doesn’t mean that my life revolves around yours, Leandro! I’m not some puppy who’ll follow you around wherever you go. I can’t just take off for Brazil—I have a job, a mortgage, a family. And you seem to have forgotten all of that.”
He held up his hands as though approaching an angry bear. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. You’re right, I should’ve talked to you. We’ll figure it out, okay?” He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. “Remember how I said that I don’t know what I’m doing? That I’d probably fuck up again?” He sent her a rueful smile and then shrugged. “Well, here we are.”
She grudingly let him pull her back into his arms. “I know you’re sorry, but that doesn’t make it okay.”
“I’m in unexplored seas with you. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m trying.”
For some reason, his admission didn’t make her feel better. Instead, it fed into the doubts and fears that they were going to crash and burn, even with the best of intentions. “It’s uncharted waters,” she said, her anger simmering just beneath the surface.
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