Champ

by Rhona Davis

  She laughs and slaps me on the arm. “Not me you sex maniac . . . them.”

  I briefly turn my attention to Ana and Monica. They’re busy eating candy apples and scanning a make-shift market stall.

  “Beautiful, Sofia. You’re family are beautiful. You’re a very lucky girl.”

  She runs her fingers through my hair. “Hey, what’s wrong? You look a little sad.”

  “I’m good. It’s nothing . . .”

  “What is it, baby?”

  I look deep into her dark almond shaped eyes and smile. “You’re just lucky, that’s all.” I glance over to Ana again. She seems intent on eating that candy apple in record time. “Your little sister is feisty. I bet you were like that as a kid.”

  “Actually, I was quite shy and introspective at that age.”

  I scoff.

  She narrows her eyes. “I was, you shit.”

  “What changed?”

  She smirks, which soon blossoms into a full blown smile.

  Her effortless beauty could kill me. Her perfect smile is a short-lived gift that soon fades, though. She pushes closer and wraps her arms around me, her gaze dropping to the floor like she’s about to tell me something big. “Connor . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “We need to talk—”

  “You can win a prize! Come on, Connor, you can do it.” Ana is tugging on my leather jacket and stretching her arm out in the direction of a collection of fluffy stuffed toys.

  “Hey, where did you come from?”

  “Quickly,” she impatiently presses, trying to drag me over.

  Before I follow, I turn to Sofia. “What were you saying?”

  She shakes her head. “Nothing. Never mind.” She smiles. “Go and win.”

  “Come . . . on!” Ana says, pulling hard on my jacket.

  Monica shouts over to her. “Be polite to Connor.”

  I wave to Monica as if it’s no trouble and follow Ana over to a boxing arcade machine. First prize for the top score is the fluffiest pink unicorn I have ever seen. If I can win the world championship, then I’m pretty sure this will be a breeze.

  I push back from the table and unloosen a few notches on my belt before breathing out. “Now that was a great cheesecake. Monica, your cooking is incredible.” I lean my body toward the direction of the kitchen and shout through to my regular chef. “Patty, you’ve got competition over here.”

  Monica blushes and motions for me not to make a fuss. I look at Sofia and then down at her plate. Apart from a small bite, the whole of her cheesecake remains intact.

  “Don’t like it?” I ask.

  She half smiles and looks at the dessert. “I do, I’m just not very hungry.”

  “She’s use to my cooking,” Monica adds.

  I chuckle. “I don’t think I’d ever be. Your food is stunning, Mrs. Chavez. If I lived under your roof I’d never make weight for the fights.”

  As the conversation flows, with Patty coming to join us for some coffee, I keep an eye on Sofia who is seated next to me.

  She seems distant—detached somehow.

  I reach under the table and pull her hand into mine. I can feel tension ripple over her skin.

  My heart plunges.

  Maybe this is all too much . . . ? All this, ‘happy family’ stuff? Doesn’t she want the same as me? Is she having second thoughts?

  I lean toward her and whisper in her ear, “You okay, angel?”

  Her lips press together and she forces a smile.

  “What were you going to tell me at the fair?” I continue.

  She doesn’t answer, so I grip her hand tighter to prompt her. Just when I see words cue on her lips, Monica pushes from the table and bids us a good night.

  “The board game,” announces Ana.

  Monica checks her wristwatch. “It’s way past your bedtime, young lady.”

  Ana pouts and stomps her foot on the ground. “But we never finished our game. I was winning.”

  I smile at Ana. “We can finish it tomorrow. It’s okay, it will still be there for us when we wake up.”

  She frowns. “Don’t move any of my pieces.”

  “I won’t.”

  “You promise?”

  “Cross my heart.”

  Ana shuffles over to Sofia, gives her a kiss, and then shuffles over to me. She pauses, frowns, and then tells me to wait.

  “Ana,” Monica presses with a sigh.

  Ana runs through to the games room. “Wait, momma.”

  When she comes back I see that she has something hidden behind her back.

  “This is for you,” she tells me, “because I don’t kiss boys. It’s yucky.”

  “Oh, what is it?”

  She proudly produces her surprise from behind her back, which is a piece of paper, and offers it to me.

  “Thank you for today,” she sweetly says.

  I hold up the paper. On it is a Crayola drawing of the unicorn we won.

  I straighten up on the chair and smile. “Wow. That’s amazing.”

  “Okay, say goodnight now,” Monica instructs.

  Ana pauses, looking disappointed that the evening is over. “Good night.”

  Before she has a chance to run off, I scoop her up into my arms and plant a kiss on her cheek.

  She pulls back and wipes her cheek dry with the sleeve of her pajama top. “Ewww.”

  We all burst into laughter.

  22

  Sofia

  Waiting for Connor to join me, I sit on the edge of the bed and begin to rack my brain for the right approach to this mess.

  Minimum damage is what I want. Hell, no damage would be perfect.

  Fearing his reaction to the web of deceit I’ve uncovered should tell me all I need to know about our relationship up to this point—bluntly, that I don’t really know him at all.

  To an outsider, who thinks with any modicum of clarity like I did once upon a time, this whole romantic set up is pretty crazy. How could someone fall for another so hard and so fast?

  “Burning the midnight oil?”

  I jump at the sound of Connor’s playful voice. I never heard him come in. He must’ve crept into the room on my blind side while I was lost in thought.

  “Well?” he says.

  I turn my body away from him so he doesn’t see the dossier of lies I’m clinging onto.

  He tuts. “I expected better from you.”

  My pulse quickens. “Sorry?”

  “You’re still dressed.”

  He walks around to the front of me and grins. His eyes bore down on my bare thighs and I can tell by their glint that his head is where mine should be.

  I pull a lose tendril of dark hair past my ear and clutch my folder of secrets tighter. “Sorry, I just needed to review this work.”

  Before I’ve the chance to resist, he lunges down and grabs the folder from my lap.

  My throat constricts.

  This is it.

  I need to say what has to be said now.

  I need to tell him before he can root through the pages of lies which, unbeknownst to him, have shadowed his entire career.

  Before I can say a single word, though, he throws the folder across the bedroom floor like some junk mail catalog. Staring at me, his hand reaches for the buckle of his jean belt. “We really need to catch up.”

  My eyes widen as he runs his fingers over his zipper.

  God, I want him so bad right now. Any another time and I’d be tearing down that zipper with my teeth, but knowing that things are soon to turn very ugly cripples my impulses.

  He takes both of my hands and gently pulls me up to my feet. Clearly making out his excitement, evident by the huge bulge that tents the material of his Levis, I blush.

  He brings me in close, his expensive cologne teasing my nostrils. His smell is unmistakably manly, sensational and sexy.

  His gaze burns into mine. That Irish charm has me gasping for air. His effortless confidence exudes through every flawless pore of his brilliantly handsome and
defined face.

  “I missed you, Sophie.”

  We lunge for each other’s mouth.

  Our kiss is violent and unapologetic in its urgency—tongues and lips swirling and dancing in perfect synergy. His mouth is tender yet firm with lustful intention and possessiveness.

  The creak of the bedroom door instantly snaps us out of our love-drunk frenzy.

  “Story,” Ana says. She’s pressed against the door frame, wiping at her sleepy eyes with her left hand.

  My heart beats like a drum. Thank heavens she never saw us kiss.

  I start toward her. “Come on then, trouble.”

  She clings to the door frame. “No, I want Connor to read.”

  A laugh spills from Connor. I glance back at him and see him shrug—tight lipped grin etching his mouth.

  “Come on, Ana, Connor has to get ready for bed.”

  “No. I want him to read me a story.”

  “It’s all good,” Connor says. “I got this.”

  “You sure?”

  He nods and shoots me a wink.

  “Okay, princess,” he says to Ana, as he stands tall over her exhausted shape. “What will it be . . . Little Red Riding Hood?”

  She sneers at him.

  Connor looks at me and cocks an eyebrow.

  “She’s too old for that,” I whisper to him.

  “Harry Potter,” Ana empathically states.

  “But you’ve read that a hundred times,” I say.

  “Harry Potter,” she repeats, louder and with more resolution.

  “Which book in the series?” Connor asks Ana.

  “The first one,” she replies with a bright smile. “I’ve read them all but I wanna hear how you read it.”

  He lifts Ana into his strong arms, making her squeal with laughter. “All righty. But no funny voices.”

  “Aww,” she moans, as he leads her out the room.

  As he shuffles down the corridor, I watch my prince charming carry my little sister away for her bedtime story. He briefly looks back over his shoulder. I mouth the words, “Thank you,” to him.

  “Not too much.”

  Ignoring my request, Momma pours two large glasses of chilled white wine. “You work hard. You deserve it.”

  My face stretches into a smile. Just like right now, she always knew how to twist my arm.

  Momma examines the label on the wine bottle. “Connor keeps a great collection.”

  “You just helped yourself?”

  “Hush now, Sofia. He won’t mind. Besides, he doesn’t drink and these bottles won’t drink themselves will they?” She lifts up her glass. “Let’s make a toast.”

  My brows pinch together. “To what?”

  “To you and Connor.”

  “Momma!”

  “You can’t fool your wise old mother, dear. I know you two are an item.”

  “I’m here to work.”

  She narrows her eyes, her mouth twisting into a cynical half smile.

  My gaze falls away from her and my cheeks flush.

  “I wasn’t born yesterday, Sofia.” She walks over to where I’m seated and prompts me to join her in a celebratory toast.

  “Come now. To you and Connor,” she says.

  Giving in, I clink my glass to hers. “To me and Connor.” As I sip from the edge of the glass, mom takes a seat next to me at the dining table.

  To me and Connor.

  Damn, it feels good to actually say it. Before I get too lost in the rapture of making it official, I feel a twinge of dread poke at my heart. I turn my head to the left and focus on the bay windows of the kitchen.

  “Sophie, sweetheart . . .”

  I shift my gaze back to momma. Her face is drawn now, a look of concern riding across each pretty feature.

  “You look troubled, dear. What’s the matter?”

  “I’m fine.” I feign a smile. “Really, I am.”

  She leans in closer and takes my hand in hers. “You seemed so happy before, at the fair. What’s worrying you? You know you can tell me anything.”

  I look down at our hands coiled around each other’s.

  She’s right. There is something wrong. And she’s right, that I can tell her anything—I always could. But this is something else. This is potentially the most damming news I’ve ever had to give. And giving that news to anyone but Connor first would be a betrayal.

  “Did you and Papa ever fight?’ I ask her.

  She grins and squeezes her brows together.

  “Did you?” I ask, my eyes pleading with her. “I never heard you guys fight once. Did you ever have secrets or anything like that?”

  She frees my hands and leans back on the chair. “Well, you never heard us because we always kept out differences away from you kids. But yes, of course, me and your father fought. All couples do.” Her face pulls serious. “Why? Are you and Connor already fighting?”

  I shake my head. “It’s nothing like that.”

  She takes a sip from her wine. “Then what is it, dear?”

  “Did you or dad ever hide anything from each other?”

  She looks lost.

  “I mean, did either of you hide something out of fear that you’d hurt the other?”

  A smile creeps over her lips. “Sofia, we all have secrets from time to time.”

  I lean forward, urging her to impart her usual wisdom on me.

  “Remember when Papa’s business went broke?”

  I nod. “I think I was eleven then.”

  “Well, your Papa hid how much trouble he was in for months. Keeping up the repayments on the café was hard. He hid it well, until I found all the unopened bills . . . letters from the tax man, utility companies.”

  “Did you freak out?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Really?”

  “Your papa hid it from us because he was trying to protect us. He really believed he could keep the business alive.” She shrugs. “But it never happened that way. He was a good man, Sofia. He just didn’t want me to worry.”

  I smile. Every time I think of Papa, I smile.

  Picking up my glass of wine, I study the contents swishing around in the bottom of the glass.

  “Is that all, Sofia darling?”

  “Sorry?”

  “Do you have something you’re hiding from Connor?”

  I pause for a moment and consider the implications of telling mom what I’ve found.

  I shake my head. “No. But . . .”

  “Go on.”

  I look up at the clock. “Nothing. I better catch some sleep now, momma. We have to be at the airport early. Your flight leaves first thing.”

  “Connor is a good man. Like your Papa was. I can see it.” She clasps onto my hands again and leans in to give me a kiss on the cheek. When she pulls back, she stares deep into my eyes. “I’m a good judge of character. If you have something you want to get off your chest, do it. Connor is a good man . . . really.”

  Only a few days and she can tell that? A few days and she can make that judgement? I can’t question it, though. She has a great track record of being right. And, after all, she was right about dad.

  I push to my feet and give mom another kiss. “Night, momma.”

  “Good night, my beautiful little Sofia.”

  On the way back to my room, I stop by Ana’s bedroom door. It’s open slightly.

  Softly, I push inside to check up on her.

  Pausing, my heart skips a beat.

  Next to Ana—who looks lost in some wonderful dream—is Connor. He’s slumped on a wicker chair by the side of her bed. He’s asleep too, the book he read to her now resting open on his chest.

  I creep up to him and carefully pick the book up by the corners. Closing it, I gently place it down on the nightstand and take a few steps back.

  My god, Connor looks so sweet. So good with my family. So attentive. We’re like the family he never had. It’s obvious he’s not doing this just to impress me. He’s a natural at this.

  Watching
them both for a moment, I gush with love. There’s not one sign of the brash, arrogant, and cocky veneer that Connor normally projects as a prize fighter. Tonight he seems gentle, at peace, contented.

  My bombshell could kill all of this.

  I’ve only just found him. I can’t even bear to think what will happen once I confess to the dark and ugly truth I have found.

  It has to be done, though . . .

  He needs to know.

  23

  Sofia

  A weight bears down on the bed, waking me from light sleep. Connor presses up to me from behind as I shield myself from the chill of the room with my sheets.

  He is hard . . .

  Very hard.

  A satisfied grin pulls across my lips. “Mm. What time is it?”

  “Three in the morning, angel.”

  I turn to face him. In the dark fog of the room I can just about make out his handsome face.

  “I left you where you were,” I whisper. “It seemed a shame to wake you.”

  “Reading makes me sleepy.”

  “How far did you get?”

  “Chapter two.”

  I chuckle. “Is that it?”

  “She dozed off before I could read too much. Anyway, fuck all that.” Without warning, he takes my hand from beneath the covers and guides it to his stiff erection.

  A gasp escapes me as my fingers instinctively roam over his steel-hard cock. His breathing becomes heavy as I rub my palm on his generous, hot length.

  “I missed you,” he says.

  “Turn the light on.”

  “Why?”

  I tug harder on his hot cock. “I want to see you fuck me.”

  Eager to follow my curt instruction, he pulls away and switches on a lamp which rests on the nightstand.

  I squint, my eyes re-adjusting to the hazy orange glow of the lamp.

  He shifts up to his knees, proudly giving me a full show of his naked ripped body. His tempting cock is hard and fat—just the way I like it.

  I shuffle up to him and wrap my fingers around his stunning penis as my other hand glides over the surface of his rock-carved abs. His solid six-pack forms an irresistible V-shape that points down to his delicious dick.

  The exquisite body he’s blessed with never fails to impress me. He looks like a god of a man—a tapestry of tattoos spiralling over his flawlessly smooth skin, a wide flared chest that’s just begging to be kissed, and tree-trunk arms which are jammed packed with iron-hard muscle.