by EMILIE ROSE
Not out of fear, though. He inhaled the sweet night air, and the knot inside him eased. The valet brought his car, and he got in, driving aimlessly. He’d been nervous, certainly. Uncomfortable. But it’d had more to do with the fact that he was with a woman who wasn’t Bella than the fact he was with a woman.
He didn’t want to think his feelings for Bella were that strong. It was residual guilt, he was certain.
But if that were the case, why was he parked in front of her apartment once again, hoping and waiting for a miracle?
* * *
HADRIAN WATCHED THE crews set up the cage at the MGM Grand Garden Arena. The place buzzed with activity, but no one noticed him up in the stands, leaned up against the railing, reveling in his memories. The first really big UFF event had taken place here, with over eight thousand fans in attendance. That’d been the day he’d known that his business would take off.
“I remember when I first met you,” a familiar voice said. “It was right here, and I was a junior reporter at the Sun. You took pity on me and gave me an exclusive interview.”
“I gave you an interview because I was trying to get into your pants,” he replied. He didn’t turn to look at Quinn. He was still mad at her, but not as angry as he’d been before Mrs. H. had given him that talking-to. Before he’d thought about what Quinn had done for the UFF and MMA. And for him.
“If that’s what you want to tell yourself. I happen to know you’re a lot nicer than you let on.” She leaned against the railing and looked down at the arena as the cage walls were slid into place and bolted down.
“How’d you get in here? I thought I took your press pass away.”
“A good reporter knows other ways in.”
He felt her eyes boring into the side of his head, but still, he wouldn’t look at her, even though all he wanted to do was grab on to her and never let go.
“Listen, Hadrian. I came to apologize. The feature was unfair to you and a lot of other people.”
A part of him wanted to be petulant and hold that grudge. He didn’t forgive easily. But as with everything else in his life, he had to treat this like a business decision. He’d already realized Quinn was too smart and too talented to kick to the curb. “I accept your apology.”
“I’m also sorry about what I said about us and...you know.”
“That the sex wasn’t worth talking about?” Silence met him. He did look at her now, and boy, was it ever hard to keep his hands to himself. She was wearing a brand-new tailored gray pantsuit with a cream-colored blouse. Her silky reddish hair was piled into a loose bun. He cleared his throat. “I accept your apology for that, too. Though to be fair, I knew you were lying about that.” He smirked.
Her mouth crimped wryly. “And?”
“And...” He mustered his strength. Mrs. H. had said he would have a hard time doing this—she knew he was a stubborn goat. He wanted to prove her wrong. “I’m sorry I said all those things about you being jealous of Bella.”
She nodded but didn’t say anything to acknowledge how hard it’d been for him to admit wrongdoing.
“I’ve just flown in from New Orleans,” she said. “I went to see Bella Fiore.”
“You found her? Her agent wouldn’t even tell me where she was.”
“I went to bury the hatchet. We reached an understanding.” She didn’t elaborate. Quinn played her cards close to her chest. It’d always been a struggle getting things out of her without giving up something in return.
He didn’t want to play that game anymore. He missed her.
“You have passes for Saturday?” he asked, changing the subject.
“I do.”
“But not the VIP media pass.”
“No.”
He turned to her. “I’ll fix that. You’ll get it all back, Quinn. Your UFF credentials, access to the green room, everything. I shouldn’t have pulled them from you in the first place.”
“Thank you.”
Those two simple words released the tight band around his lungs. He hadn’t realized how much she’d needed to hear that simple admission. “We should celebrate. You can tell me all about your interview with Bella over dinner.”
She sucked in her lower lip. “Hadrian, we have to talk about this...thing between us. I can’t have this with you anymore. I’ve been using you, thinking I could make this constant compromise because you were good for my career. We both deserve better than that. It’s not fair to us. To what we could have.”
He smiled crookedly, feeling his happiness quickly slipping away. “I don’t mind.”
“But I do. There’s been too much accounting. Too much quid pro quo. I don’t want us forever scratching each other’s backs because we feel obliged to and not talking about the things that should matter to a couple.”
“I want to do more than scratch your back, Quinn,” he said with a grin, but silently admitted that that was exactly what he’d been doing—tallying up all her rebuffs when she’d refused his gifts and offers to move in with him. He’d always thought sex would make up the deficit—he realized now it hadn’t and never would.
He could see in her eyes she thought the same thing.
“I don’t want us to break up,” he said.
She gave him a sad smile. “Were we ever really together?”
He knew there was nothing he could offer her that would entice her to stay with him the way he wanted. There was one thing, though, that could prove he’d heard her. One thing he hoped would at least earn back her respect. “I have a story for you. An exclusive.”
She perked up and flipped her notebook open, pen poised. That was his Quinn. He’d once thought of her as mercenary, but she was simply keen, intelligent, determined and motivated.
“I reread your article and looked into the unequal pay figures you mentioned. We’re overhauling the books and making sure all UFF employees are getting paid accordingly and equally. That means new HR standards for all employee assessments. We’re also working on a cohesive sexual harassment policy and code of conduct to be implemented across the board in all the gyms and UFF facilities. I’m increasing maternity leave for female workers at all levels, and we’re looking into on-site child care at headquarters, with subsidies for those in the international offices.”
Her pen had stopped scribbling. She was staring at him openmouthed. “For real?”
“It’s all on the record. Mrs. H. will provide all the details if you give her a call.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Look, I know you don’t want any kind of accounting or favors or anything, but hear me out. You’ve worked in this industry a long time, and I thought about some of the stuff you said. There’s still lots of work to be done. Which is why I’d love to have you on board and hear more of your ideas—you’d be a huge asset to the UFF.”
Her lips trembled. She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. “Thank you, Hadrian. But I do love my job. As much as I go through...”
He patted her hand but didn’t let his touch linger. “I understand.”
And he did. That was as much as he could do for her. He had to accept that and move on.
Quinn stared at him in surprise, at a loss for words. Together, they watched the cranes hoist the UFF banners into the air.
Maybe one day, when she saw he was serious, they could move on together.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“LINE ONE,” LIZ SAID. “It’s Hadrian Blackwell.”
Kyle closed his eyes as a slightly sick feeling swamped him. He’d been expecting this call since the day Bella had stormed out. Maybe he’d been expecting it for even longer. He tried to gauge the UFF president’s mood from the look on Liz’s face, but her expression was stone-cold.
He headed for his office and shut the door. Time to get this over with.
“Peters.” Hadrian sounded
like he was greeting a man at a funeral. “How are you?”
“Fine, all things considered.” Not fine. Not in the least. In the two and a half weeks since Bella had left, all he’d been able to think about was how he’d screwed up. He hadn’t even been able to find Bella to apologize.
A sudden horrible thought popped into his head: What if Hadrian was calling because Bella was hurt? What if she’d been hit by a car because she was so stubborn she’d started biking again? “Have you found Bella? Is she all right?” Panic seized him.
“She’s training in a secret location with her brother Marco and her father, Carlos.”
Kyle slumped back. “Good. That’s good.” Kyle was surprised and pleased by this bit of news. He knew her relationship with her family had been strained.
“Good?” Disbelief and ire torqued Hadrian’s tone. “You think it’s good that a star fighter has left an official UFF gym days before her first big fight? Do you have any idea how that looks?”
“That’s my fault. I take full responsibility.” He was prepared to pay for his mistakes. But he couldn’t say he regretted his relationship with Bella.
He waited for the ax to fall. He could move back to California, maybe, and work as a private coach, or...
“That may be so, but I’m not firing you yet, Peters.”
It took Kyle a moment to process his words. “Meaning what, exactly?”
“Meaning I happen to be in a good mood. If I’d left this to the board to decide, you’d be out. But as far as I’m concerned, what happened between you and Bella is a personal matter. That doesn’t excuse your behavior, though. When your private life affects my business, it sure as hell isn’t private anymore. You and I are going to have a discussion eventually, but not until the anniversary card is over.”
So he had a reprieve. That was something, he supposed, but he was far from relieved.
“Did you see that piece Quinn Bourdain wrote last week?” Hadrian asked after a beat.
“No.”
“She wrote that Bella insisted you were a good coach and a good gym manager. She said everything that happened was a misunderstanding. Personally,” he added emphatically, “I think she’s too blind to see that you don’t appreciate her the way she appreciates you. You don’t deserve her.”
He wanted to puke. How could she defend him after all the crap he’d put her through? How could she forgive him? “I guess I don’t.”
“You’re coming to Vegas for the fight.” The UFF president jumped back to business. “You’re going to show up and act like nothing’s wrong. Payette’s needs to be seen as supporting Bella all the way. According to Quinn, Bella’s father and brother are going to be her cornermen. Imagine how that’ll look when the graphics go up and they say ‘fighting out of New Orleans’ without a single rep from Payette’s in her corner.”
“If she has her family at her side, at least the world knows the Fiores are taking her seriously.”
“I don’t give a crap if they’re a happy family, Kyle. I care about my business. I need Bella to be the champion. Kamino’s great, but she’s not the star I’d hoped for. If Bella loses, the women’s division goes under.”
Kyle scowled. “Bella can win. I have every confidence in her.”
“Confidence gets you shit all right now. It should be you in that corner with her, Peters.”
Hadrian was right. It should be him. Even after all they had shared, he’d still pushed her away. He’d be lucky if he ever got to be a part of her life again.
The thought that he might not squeezed the air from his lungs. They’d shared more than sex. He’d told her things he’d never told anyone. Hell, he’d cried in front of her. He’d never trusted anyone like that before. His father hadn’t permitted it—emotions weren’t something men expressed or felt.
Kyle ground his jaw. He’d do as Hadrian asked, but not for him or his career or the UFF. “I’ll do what it takes, sir.”
“Make sure you do. She might not want you, but she sure as hell needs you for this fight if she wants to be champ.” Hadrian hung up.
* * *
IT WAS BRISK for February in Las Vegas, but Kyle was certain his reception would be even frostier than the temperature. As he made his way to the MGM Grand for the weigh-in, all he could focus on was Bella and how this would be the place where his future with her would be decided.
The sectioned-off portion of the arena bustled with media, cameras and cameramen. Fans swarmed the gallery, and the air buzzed with excitement. Officials hovered over a scale, testing and retesting it, while other techs moved microphones and other apparatuses.
Kyle wended his way backstage, spotting grim-faced members of Kamino’s camp guarding a door. The young champion would be in her locker room, waiting for the weigh-in to start. This wait could be brutal because frequently, fighters would not eat or drink anything twelve hours in advance. They couldn’t risk going a fraction of an ounce over the target weight. Every ounce over meant a percentage taken off their paycheck or, worse, disqualification.
He worried about Bella. She’d been working hard, and he’d had her on a strict diet, but he had no idea what she’d been doing since she left. Not having control made him crazy.
He shook his head. He’d given up control the moment he’d decided to have a relationship with her. Control of any relationship was an illusion.
Eventually, he found out where Team Fiore’s locker room was. A beefy security guy stood outside.
“I’m Kyle Peters. I’m with the team,” he said, but the guy put a strong hand on his shoulder and backed him off.
“Sorry, no visitors.”
“I said I’m with the team.”
“Bella’s in there alone.” Kyle recognized the voice. He’d spoken with Marco Fiore over the phone, but never met him in person until now. Kyle saw that they were about the same height, but Marco was leaner. He shared Bella’s raven-black hair, but his eyes were a shade grayer than her brilliant emerald-green. “She wants to be left alone.”
He stuck out a hand. “I’m Kyle Peters.”
“I know.”
He retracted his hand. “Listen, I’m just here to make amends and offer my help.”
“I think you’ve helped her enough.” Marco met him chest to chest. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave before my father arrives. I have a lot more control than he does when it comes to guys like you.”
“I’m not leaving.” He folded his arms. “I’m waiting right here for Bella. I’ll shout through the door if that’s what it takes for her to hear me.”
“Marco, o que está acontecendo?” An older man Kyle instantly recognized as Brazilian jujitsu master and seven-time world champion Carlos Fiore strode toward them. His eyes narrowed on him. “You.”
Kyle put his hands up as the older man advanced. “Respectfully, Mr. Fiore, I’m here to apologize to—”
He didn’t get another word out as Carlos grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall. Someone gave a shout, and a ring of spectators formed around them. The bodyguard melted into the background, content to watch, it seemed. Even Marco backed away.
Kyle struggled to go limp. If he was going to take his licks, best make himself soft. They might be evenly matched, but he was not going to fight Bella’s dad.
“You stay away from my family.” His knuckles ground against Kyle’s collarbone painfully. “You don’t speak to my daughter ever again. You break her heart, I break your face. Understand?”
“I’m not worthy of her,” Kyle gritted. “I know that. I never meant to hurt her, but I did and I was wrong to do it. I want her to hear that from me.”
“Papai, what’s going on?” Bella poked her head through the door. Kyle’s heart lurched. Her lips pulled down in a steep frown and she stepped farther out. “What are you doing here?” she
asked Kyle irately.
“I’m here to support you.” Carlos dug his fists in harder, and he winced. “I got stopped.”
The senior Fiore said something harshly to Bella in Portuguese, and she snapped back at him. Reluctantly, he let go.
“Come in, Kyle.” Bella went back through the door. Kyle slid sideways past both Carlos and Marco, and he could feel the hostility radiating off them. If it ever came to blows, Kyle would be in for a hell of a knuckle-duster.
When the door shut, the hubbub subsided. The small locker room sported the usual wooden benches and cubbies. The floor had been padded with clean, new-smelling rubber mats. High up in one corner, a TV showed muted feed from the press area where the weigh-ins would take place. This would be the room she’d occupy for tomorrow’s fight.
She sat on the ground cross-legged and glared at him expectantly.
“How are you doing?” he asked, suddenly nervous.
“Let’s see. I haven’t eaten anything other than green smoothies for the past five days, and have had nothing since lunch yesterday. Dad’s made me spit into a cup for the past twelve hours to cut the last few ounces. I’ve got a headache and I have to face the crowd and the media looking like I’ve been wrung through a washing machine, and now you’re here, getting into fights with my family. How the hell do you think I’m doing?”
If he was worried about being on her bad side, at least now he was reassured that he couldn’t get on a side that was any worse. “What’s your weight at?” That was not the question he wanted to jump to, but he couldn’t help inquiring.
“Since this morning, 144.8.” She closed her eyes. “I’m going to have a strawberry milkshake, a steak and fries with a fried egg and bacon on top right after this.”
He chuckled. Her gaze snapped to him, her irritation clear, and he slammed his lips closed.
“Tell me what you came to say, Kyle. I’m not in the mood to be nice.”
He sat on the bench on the opposite side of the room. “I came to apologize.”
She waved a hand in dismissal. “You’re forgiven.”