by Sam Crescent
This wasn’t what she was used to, and she found it hard to focus when she’d count the days away from her daughter. But all this research and planning was for Ava’s benefit. Without knowing her location, it wasn’t as simple as rushing in to save her.
For as long as Belle could remember, she followed orders. Going against her father, making waves—it was all new territory. But if what Drago said was true, and deep down she knew it was, her father wanted her dead. The death match wasn’t a game, and she had to remember that.
Her head was spinning, and by six she’d had enough of reading the small font of the printouts. Although her body had healed from her last fight, her heart was still broken. It would never be whole until she was with Ava again. All these sacrifices were for a reason.
She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand.
“Anything new?” asked Drago. He entered the office, bringing in the scent of the outdoors. She’d forgotten what it felt like to be outside, the sun on her skin. Being trapped in this office wasn’t much different than being shuffled from fight to fight in the back of a cube van. All she’d ever wanted was her freedom.
“Same stuff. Lots of legal talk that I don’t really understand.” Belle massaged her temple. “What have you been up to?”
“Making plans for tonight.”
She inwardly groaned. Belle had been pushing herself to the breaking point, and wanted to just disappear and forget all her problems. She sucked up her internal resistance. Whatever needed to be done, she’d agreed to be a part of it. “Are you going to tell me?”
When he didn’t answer, she looked up at him to gauge his reaction. She hadn’t even paid much attention to him since he’d walked in, too absorbed in her thoughts. He was wearing a dark suit, and damn he cleaned up nice. He smirked.
“What’s going on?”
He leaned over and closed both the open file folders on the desk. “You don’t know what moderation is, do you? You don’t know when to stop fighting, and you’re doing the same thing now.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.
“You need a break. You’re not a fucking machine, even if you like to believe it. I have reservations at La Concha downtown.” He ran his palm over her hair. “I want to see you smile.”
She swallowed hard. Belle couldn’t even remember the last time she put herself first. She continually pushed her body and mind, first because it was expected of her, and then for the sake of her daughter. Something had to give.
Belle shook her head. “We have too much to do here.”
He tilted her chin up, glaring down at her. For a brief moment she remembered the ruthless fighter in the ring, his hard body glistening with clean sweat, his daggered stare making his opponents tremble. Drago had been feared and unbeatable. She’d always been in awe at his skills. “I’m not asking. Get ready, Belle. You have plenty to wear in your closet.” His tone left no room for argument, and it felt good to give up control for once. She was tired of acting tough and resisting the voice in her head. Belle wasn’t even sure who she really was underneath her skin.
It wasn’t easy always keeping up her barriers, needing to be strong and never show weakness. She stood up, taking a cleansing breath. Yes, she needed to get out, to get away from her problems for a night.
“You’re more than a fighter and a mother, Belle.” He ran the backs of his fingers along her jaw. “You’re also a woman. You’re allowed to have your own dreams, to have fun once in a while.”
She nodded, not trusting her voice. At twenty-five she already felt burned out.
Drago confused her.
She’d always looked up to him. He inspired her to be a better fighter, to be the best of the best. But she’d be lying if she said that’s where her interest ended. She’d blown off her feelings, calling them a crush. Every woman wanted him, so it was only natural to feel that pull.
Living with him day in, day out, she knew it was an excuse. She felt drawn to him, but he was much older, experienced, and could have any woman he wanted. Belle was a single mother, a washed-out fighter, and had too many problems to count. Men avoided women like her like the plague.
Now Drago was taking her out to a fancy dinner, making her dream up impossible fairy tales. In her world, harsh reality ruled.
After getting ready, she looked at herself in the mirror. It was nice to see her skin rather than shades of blue and green bruises. She ran her fingertips down her bare arm. It had been a while since she’d killed it in the gym. Part of her missed the grueling routine, and another part cringed just remembering the schedule her father demanded. What she needed was balance, to learn how to live by her own rules.
Carlos had brought over most of her clothes from her apartment, not that she owned a lot. Besides her gym clothes, she’d never needed much more. She wore a simple black dress. It was the one she’d worn to a dinner hosted by her family a few years ago. It was the fanciest thing she owned. Her femininity had always been stifled by her father, what he called a distraction from her calling. When this nightmare was all over, maybe she’d go shopping and buy some pretty things to wear.
She kept her hair out. It was longer than she realized once dried and brushed out, hitting the curve of her ass. She always kept it functional in braids or ponytails, so she barely recognized herself. Since Drago had gone all out, she even put on some make-up—red on her lips and a little color on her eyes. She didn’t recognize herself in the mirror.
Growing up, she’d been the fat kid. Then her father had her on an impossible exercise and training schedule, restricting her diet to the extreme. The first couple summers he even sent her to fat camp, one of her worst memories as a child. Even though her body was muscular underneath because of her fighting, she couldn’t hide her curves, especially her chest. During fights she’d bind herself up, flattening her breasts the best she could. She also had custom sports bras made to minimize. Her father said big tits made her look weak, and too feminine, so she was surprised he hadn’t forced her to have some kind of body-altering surgery.
When she opened the door to meet Drago in the foyer, she was nervous as hell. She expected him to point and laugh, to slap her on the back and tell her to get changed. Female fighters were always treated as one of the guys. But Belle didn’t want to be a fellow fighter, tomboy, or a buddy to Drago. She wanted him to look at her with lust in his eyes, with the desire and love she only fantasized about.
His back was to her, his wide shoulders filling out his jacket. As her low heels hit the tiles in the foyer, he turned around and froze. She held her breath, terrified of his reaction.
Please don’t laugh.
This was new for her—caring what she looked like, trying to impress a man, falling in love.
“Wow,” he said. “Just … wow.” He did a slow walk around her, observing her as if she were a statue in a gallery. “You’re stunning, Belle.” He picked up a section of her hair. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She wanted to punch him because she swore he was lying, but a little part of her swooned, hoping every word was true. “I’m not used to dressing up. And I’m a bit scared to fall in these shoes even though they’re only two inches high.”
“Well, make sure you hold onto me all night.” He held out his bent elbow and she hooked arms with him. This was just friendship, right? A break from their constant paper shuffle. She didn’t dare expect more because she’d had enough disappointment lately to last a lifetime.
****
Drago was rendered speechless when Belle walked out of the bedroom. Fucking speechless. Her long blonde hair fell heavily down her back, her full lips pouty and red. She looked like she’d stepped right out of the pages of his fantasies, any man’s fantasies.
He did a slow circle around her. She had what he considered the perfect figure, and he hadn’t realized just how curvy.
Any hope of thinking of Belle as a sweet little sister or protégé went flying out the window. He saw her
in a new light. She wasn’t a girl, even if she was over a decade younger. Belle was all woman, strong and independent. She was exactly what he wanted.
They made it to his car without any falls. Belle was worried about tripping, which was funny considering how she could handle herself in a ring. He wanted her to forget the life she’d left behind, never return to it, and spread her wings.
All this bullshit he was subjecting himself to was for her benefit. Yes, he wanted to make a difference, but it all started and ended with Belle. He needed to ensure she’d be safe, and could live a normal life away from her family.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you look?” he asked as they drove to the restaurant.
“Many, many times,” she said. “But that’s forgivable.” She smiled, and it looked good on her. Drago was fucking sick of seeing her worried and sad.
His initial intention had been to help out Belle, no strings attached. Her father was the worst of the worst, and she’d been through hell and back since childhood.
Now he wanted to be a part of her future. He was a selfish bastard, but no man would be able to take care of her like he could. No man would understand her like him.
“You know, I’ve thought about you a lot over the years,” he said.
He kept alternating between gauging her reactions and watching the road.
She bit her lip, running her hands down her thighs, smoothing out her dress. “You were my idol.”
“Don’t say that. I was just a fighter. Same as you,” he said.
Belle shook her head. “No, you were a legend. I may have had a crush on you.”
“Oh?”
“Well, probably every woman watching felt the same way.”
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Drago swore she saw him as a father figure, a man offering her assistance and nothing more. To hear her words, to see her cheeks flush pink, it was more than he could have dreamed. “I don’t care about other women,” he said. “Just you, Belle.”
The heat and sexual tension in the car were making it difficult to focus on driving. He wanted to pull over and fuck her on the side of the road, to rip that tight dress clean off her body, but he pushed those feelings away. “You care about me?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” he said. “I’ve been retired for a while. I have no complaints about my life. Until I saw you in that ring, I never got involved.”
“So this is about your conscience?”
He scoffed, slowing down as they neared the restaurant. He contemplated hiding his feelings, of keeping their relationship platonic, but she was his ultimate weakness. “This is about my feelings for you.” Drago shifted in his seat once he put the car into park. “Don’t think it’s about anything else. I’m not the type of man to go chasing a cause.”
“I don’t know what I feel. What should I feel, Drago? I don’t even think I know what love is. Why would you want anything to do with me?”
“I’m not perfect, Belle. We’re both broken, both dealt the same shit hand. Maybe that means we fix each other, find happiness together.”
“You know about Mikey.”
“I know about everything. And I don’t give a shit about him. He’s the past, and I don’t blame you for anything you’ve done or had to do.”
“He’s the only guy I’ve ever been with. The whole dating thing isn’t for me. I made a mistake once, and I don’t intend to make the same one twice.”
“So you’ll be alone forever because of one asshole?”
“The single life suits you, doesn’t it?”
There was a knock on the driver’s side. He wanted to tell her he wasn’t single by choice. He hadn’t found the right woman. They all seemed so damn superficial, only interested in his status, money, or looks. Drago could see through people, right down to the marrow, and he wouldn’t settle. Belle was genuine, a broken doll, a woman who needed a rock in her life.
He wanted to be that rock.
They joined hands in front of the restaurant, and the valet took his car away. His cock tented in his slacks from just holding her soft little hand, but luckily his jacket hid the evidence.
“Wow, this is fancy.”
Drago led her up the steps. It pissed him off that Belle was living in a shitty apartment when she’d made a fortune from fighting. Her father had taken every last penny, not even leaving her enough for a comfortable lifestyle. The man was a monster.
They were led to their private table, and Drago held Belle’s chair out for her. A lone candle flickered in the center of the table, and the dim lighting highlighted the angles of her face and those big blue eyes.
He savored watching her. She looked around with awe, her red lips parting as she studied the chandeliers and sculptures around the room. Damn, he loved seeing her happy. He wasn’t a young man, but right now, he felt like he was falling hard.
“Now, about what we were talking about…”
“Refresh my memory,” she said.
“You think you should stay single, and I was about to tell you that I could make you happy. You and your daughter.”
She shook her head. “I’m nothing, Drago. You feel sorry for me, and I’m thankful that you’re helping me get Ava back, but it doesn’t have to go beyond that.”
“You’re right, it doesn’t.” He reached out and took her hand, sandwiching it between his. “But it’s what I want. It’s all I want. I know you’ve been through hell with Mikey, but I’m not him, and I’ll never be like him. You know that, don’t you?”
She bit her lower lip. “I don’t know you. Not really.”
“That’s why we’re here. No matter how long it takes, I’m going to show you how a man should treat a woman.” He smoothed his top hand up her forearm, so tempted to kiss her.
Belle sat there, speechless, staring at their hands. She swallowed hard. “When did this happen?”
“I’ve always had my eye on you. I just never acted.”
“What’s different now?” she asked. “I’m not looking for a savior. If you think you’re doing a good deed—”
“For God’s sake, Belle, you’re not a charity case. I’m spilling my guts here. Obviously, I’m doing a shitty job, but I’m trying to say that I’m crazy about you. I’m ready to go the distance until you feel the same about me.”
The waitress came with water, and Drago pulled his hands away and sat straighter. “Give us a few minutes, eh?”
“You’re more experienced than me,” she blurted once they were alone again.
“And?”
She shrugged, then exhaled. “I’m making excuses,” she said. “It’s because I’m scared.”
“Of what, baby?”
“Of how you make me feel.” She adjusted the strap of her dress, and he couldn’t help notice her cleavage. “What happens if I tell you I want the same thing as you?”
“Then we take things slow. I show you just how good things could be.”
She tilted her head a bit. “My father was controlling…”
“I don’t want to control you, Belle.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” she said. “You’re nothing like him. When I’m with you I feel safe. I remember your strength, how you took command in the ring. Is it wrong that I want that? That I crave that control? Is something wrong with me?”
“You’re perfect, baby girl. I want to be everything you need.” He leaned over the table and ran the backs of his fingers along the smooth plane of her neck. “In every way.”
Her eyes fluttered closed briefly.
At thirty-nine years old, he was losing his heart.
Chapter Seven
Even when Mikey was at the height of his flirtation, he never made her feel this way. Belle stared at Drago, feeling that answering pulse between her thighs. He was good at this. The way he looked at her, she thought of sin and all those tempting dirty books that she snuck into her room to read. She’d never wanted to be a fighter. She had lost count of the number of hours she thought about being a
different girl. How she’d have loved to be like one of the girls who she saw playing with dolls in the park, or running around after each other.
They never looked like they had to take a beating in their life.
“You’re blushing,” he said.
“I’m sorry. I’m just new to all of this.” She took a deep breath.
“That fucker that used you should have given you something to remember.”
She snorted. “He did. He reminded me that all men are after the same thing.”
“All men?”
“Sorry, most men.” She shook her head, pushing some hair out of her face. She wasn’t used to it cascading all around her. Her usual style was up in a ponytail. She didn’t have time to look sexy or beautiful.
It felt weird and yet kind of nice at the same time to be this woman. To be someone new, someone different.
He took her hand; his was so much larger. “Relax.”
“I’m relaxed.”
“You’re tensed up. You’re fidgeting. I have no other agenda right now than enjoying this meal with you.”
“Drago, you could be with anyone. There are so many different people you could have. Why me? I’m just me.”
“And I told you, I care about you, Belle. This is not about getting into your pants or trying to manipulate you. You’ve got nothing I want other than the pleasure of your company. That’s what I want. Nothing else.”
She felt tears sting her eyes, hating that she was once again this insecure idiot who couldn’t seem to get her emotions under control.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize. I already figured that I had a lot to do to make you realize I’m not going to use you for something. It sucks that even when you thought you found love he turned out to be a giant asshole.”
“That’s not your fault. You’re not an asshole.”
“That I know, but it’s what you’ve been through.”