by Claire Adams
"You had your chance," Sienna told Fenton.
"Just jealousy," Jackson said.
I turned to Fenton, but all he said was, "Why are you here?"
"See, jealousy," Jackson said. "She's here to finish up our business about the power tool endorsement. He just can't stand another guy getting any attention."
Fenton lunged at Jackson again, but I stepped between them. "You were fighting over Sienna?" I asked.
Fenton said nothing, only clenched his jaw, so Jackson spoke up. "I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but Fenton here was yelling something about Sienna being his woman."
"That's not true," Kev said.
"Then, why did you two come here to talk to me?" Jackson asked.
Kev looked at Fenton and did not know what to say.
"Look, I hear you, but I believe that women can choose for themselves," Jackson said.
Fenton stepped around me, but Kev jumped in to help. "It's time to go, Fenton. It doesn't matter. They've got their story and that's it."
"I don't understand," I said, looking to Sienna.
She waved her camera crew in. "I'm used to men fighting over me, next time, I'll leave the door open, so we get it all," She vamped for the now-rolling cameras. "Doesn't matter what happened, I always come out on top."
Kev caught my arm and started to pull me and Fenton towards the back door. "Don't believe her. She'll say anything to make herself look good. Same with your pretty boy there."
I yanked my arm free. "Then, tell me what happened."
"We came to talk to Jackson about you, remind him to keep it strictly business. He had Sienna cornered in the room and was trying to make her go farther than she wanted," Kev said.
"But the door was closed and no one saw anything?" I asked. "So it’s your story versus theirs?" I grabbed both Fenton's arms and looked up into his face. He avoided my gaze, but did not pull away. "Tell me what happened."
He shrugged my hands off. "It doesn't matter. Let's get out of here."
"Fine," I said. "If it doesn't matter, then I'm going to stay and finish the business I have with Jackson."
"You can't be serious," Fenton said. "He's a slime ball, thinks he's untouchable. Is that who you're supposed to be with?"
"I'm not with Jackson McRay. It's just business." I crossed my arms over my chest. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but this whole situation feels a little unbalanced, wouldn't you say?"
Fenton glowered at me then turned back to Jackson. "I was just coming here to remind him it was just business, make sure he didn't cross any lines."
"Sienna, are you telling the truth? They were fighting over you?" I asked.
"Oooh, now who's jealous," she said and smiled at the nearest camera. She raised her right hand and pledged, "I swear they were fighting over me. Even Fenton's manager can't say that's a lie."
I looked at Kev who gave me a pained negative shake of his head. "Then, it sounds like you're the one that crossed the line," I said to Fenton.
"So you believe him? Of course, you do. It doesn't matter that underneath his perfect look he's rotten. He's a dirty predator that thinks the whole world is his to toy with and that includes Sienna and you. I'm warning you, Jackson, I've seen what you really are," Fenton said.
The head of the golf tournament elbowed his way into the office followed by five security guards. "Alright, Mr. Morris, you have disrupted us enough for one afternoon. Take them out."
"That seems a bit unnecessary," I said.
Jackson shrugged. "They weren't invited."
"No, they weren't," said the tournament president. "They promised this photographer a great scene if he bribed the doorman to let them in. It was all just a publicity stunt."
Neither Fenton nor Kev could deny what the man said. The photographer mouthed “sorry” to them just before the security guards grappled them out the back door. One took Kev, while the other four surrounded Fenton.
He glanced over their shoulders and I felt the cut of his laser blue eyes. "You coming?"
Jackson said, "Don't worry, Kya, I won't let this little scene stand in the way of our business."
"No, you're right," I said. "I'm going to stay. I can't let your crazy publicity stunts get in the way of my business anymore."
Fenton shook off the four security guards and strode out the back door himself. I waited until the office cleared. I took a few steps towards the back door, and then changed my mind again. I followed Jackson out into the banquet hall.
"Normally, I'm all for making a scene, but that was a bit much even for me," Sienna said to her semi-circle of cameras.
Jackson joined her and slid a comforting arm around her shoulders. Sienna shrunk back then recovered and gave the cameras a bright smile.
"No wonder you came looking for a higher class of athlete. We might not have crazy parties in luxury suites, but we at least know how to treat a woman," Jackson said.
Sienna shrugged his arm off and rubbed her neck. "It seems like the only people that know how I want to be treated are my friends and my fans."
"Speaking of your friends, I was hoping your entourage would liven this place up," Jackson said. He stepped back into the shot and Sienna backed away.
"That wasn't lively enough for you?" I asked.
Jackson dropped the hand reaching for Sienna's waist and turned to me. "What can I say? I like a little fun and excitement in my afternoons." He stepped aside to talk to the head organizer of the golf luncheon.
"Are you okay?" I asked Sienna. My back was to the cameras and I spoke as quietly as possible.
"Why do you ask?" Sienna tossed her hair.
"You're usually so bouncy, but now, I don't know, you seem a little jumpy," I said.
Sienna looked at Jackson. He smiled, and she swallowed hard. "This just isn't my crowd."
"What is it?" I asked.
"Sorry, Jackson, but I just heard there's a margarita-making contest at Caesar's that needs a judge." Sienna motioned to her camera crew. "Come on, boys, we're outta here."
Jackson took my arm and led me to a long table set with a white linen tablecloth. The president of the golf association and his wife sat across from us.
"And, people wonder why we have such a rigorous screening and interview process for membership at our club," the president said.
"I apologize, sir, I thought a little on-air time would be good for us," Jackson said.
"Of course. It had nothing to do with you," the president nodded. "It just goes to show that people's true class, or lack thereof, will always show through."
I sat wondering if the entire incident had nothing or everything to do with Jackson McRay. There was something stiff about his smile, but over the course of lunch, he relaxed.
"Please, let me escort you back to the hotel," he said at the end of the gathering. He signaled a driver and soon we were ensconced in a black town car. "I feel like I need to apologize for my association president and the head organizer. They are quick to judge. I'm sure Fenton is under a lot of pressure these days."
"Thank you for having some understanding," I said. I leaned back on the comfortable leather seats. "You're right. I have seen athletes start to crack under the pressure and their judgment is usually the first thing to go."
"As long as it doesn’t blow back at you," Jackson said. He took my hand and kissed the back of it. "I hate to think of you being surrounded by scummy managers and boxing coaches and fighters. Wasn't this afternoon a pleasant change?"
I had to agree. Despite the superior remarks about Fenton and Sienna, the luncheon had been entirely pleasant. "Yes, thank you. It was just the break I needed."
Jackson held my hand, a comforting and sweet gesture, all the way to the Tropicana. The driver jumped out to open the door for me, but it was Jackson that rushed around to help me out of the car. I could not help but feel like a princess when I was with Jackson McRay. He was the very model of a charming prince.
"Ms. Allen, I was hoping to see you here," a man's voice hailed us. Mar
io Peretti appeared out of a limousine.
"Sorry. Ms. Allen is not interested in speaking with you right now," Jackson said. He curled a long arm out in front to shield me. His hand on the small of my back ushered me towards the casino.
I stopped and stood my ground. "It's okay, Jackson. I know him. What can I do for you, Mr. Peretti?"
"So, formal now. Let me guess, you spent the afternoon with his kind," Mario said. He smirked at Jackson's outfit and then stepped between us.
Jackson laid a heavy hand on Mario's shoulder. Though the MMA fighter was shorter, he made quick work of shrugging off the hand and forcing Jackson to take a step back.
"What do you want," I asked. I put both hands on my hips.
"Just a photograph," Mario said. His smile curled up with mischief. "I'm a fan, you're a fan, let's just get a quick pic together."
"Why? So you can use it to rile Fenton up?" I asked. I started to walk towards the hotel lobby.
"Exactly," Mario said.
Jackson laughed. "I like it. Let's do it." He reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling me back, and then giving me a push towards Mario.
"No, thank you," I said. I looked to Jackson expecting him to shield me again and help me get inside.
He held out an arm to block me from the hotel lobby. "Give me the camera and give Ms. Allen here a quick kiss," he said.
"Jackson! No. Stay away from me, Mario," I said.
The fighter lunged and wrapped an arm around my waist. "Sorry, Kya. Normally, I'm really sweet, ask anyone. It's just this is a good way to get an edge of him."
I pressed hard against his chest and tried to hold him back. Jackson laughed again and waited until Mario stole a kiss, then he snapped the picture.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Kya
I shook Jackson off in the lobby and made my way through the casino alone. The fact that he had allowed, actually pushed me into, a compromising photograph with Mario Peretti made me feel ill. It was clear that everything Jackson did was to suit himself. That was not how a true gentleman acted.
I rushed to the elevators and up to the suite. I still was not clear on what had happened at the golf luncheon, but now I had reason to doubt both sides. The truth had to be somewhere in the middle. Unfortunately, Fenton was already gone.
"Is he going to come back and change for the party?" I asked Sandi.
She stopped setting out her makeup kit and looked up. "No, he's already changed."
"Are you okay? What's the matter?" I dropped my purse on the couch, realizing she was there to help me get ready for the party myself.
"I saw Fenton and Kev a little while ago. Kev was really upset. He said that they got kicked out of some snobby golf lunch. They accused Fenton of trying to pull off some tacky publicity stunt."
"I think there's a little more to it than that," I said. "It sounded to me like they crashed the party and tried to start a fight with Jackson McRay."
"He doesn't sound like a nice man." Sandi turned back to her brushes and color palettes. "They said he had that reality television star cornered."
"If you ask me, I think Fenton acted like a jealous suitor. Maybe he'd rather go to the promotion party with Sienna."
"Really, Kya, how can you say that?"
I crossed my arms over my chest. "I just can't help but get the feeling I'm being played. Neither story adds up and neither Fenton or Jackson or even Kev will tell me the whole truth."
"I don't want to get into it, but Fenton didn't say a thing the entire time they were here. Kev said he shuts down like that when someone doesn't believe him. Probably happened to him a lot as a child. You didn't believe him and he can't defend himself, so he has nothing to say," Sandi said.
"So instead of telling me the truth and trying to convince me, Fenton's just going to give me the silent treatment?" I asked. "Sounds like he's still acting like a child."
"Don't you want to believe him?" Sandi asked.
I flopped down in the chair she had set out for me. "Yes. But that would mean Jackson McRay was some kind of monster and Sienna was an innocent victim. Do you see why that's hard to believe?"
Sandi gave a weak smile. "Yes, but believing that means that Fenton stepped in to help her even if it meant confronting Jackson and causing a huge scene. He's not the type to stand aside for the sake of his reputation, and I think that makes him heroic."
I held my hands up. "Alright, I hear what you're saying. Let's just agree that all I know for sure is that I need to get ready and head to the fight promotion party."
Sandi patted my shoulder and then got to work. Within the hour, I had my copper hair swept up, my green eyes accented with perfect makeup, and the iridescent dress shimmering every time I moved. She ushered me into the elevator.
"Let me guess, it all changes back to normal at midnight," I said as I stepped inside.
"Let's hope so," Sandi said.
I headed into the flashy party feeling like Cinderella for more reasons than just the dress. I was still an outsider in Fenton's world and I half expected the doorman to send me away.
"Hey, beautiful. No hard feelings about earlier, right?" Mario Peretti appeared trailing a large entourage.
"You mean when you attacked me?" I asked.
"Just a kiss between colleagues. Surely, that's happened to you before," Mario said. "Besides your boyfriend did not seem to mind."
"Jackson McRay is not my boyfriend," I said.
"Well, obviously, I'm not the only one confused by that," Mario said. He nodded in the direction of the bar.
Fenton leaned over a limber, black-haired woman and drank a shot off her flat stomach. She sat up and offered him a lime from between her overly plump lips.
"They've been pretty friendly ever since I arrived. Maybe I picked the wrong photo op to make our man jealous," Mario said.
I pushed past him, much to the amusement of his entourage, and marched into Fenton's eye line. He caught sight of me, and his blue eyes blazed. It was not the smoldering appreciation I had imagined when I chose the dress. I forced myself to walk straight over to him.
"We need to talk," I said.
He turned back to the bar and ordered another shot. A voluptuous blonde took position and smiled at Fenton with bright red lips.
"Aren't you going to say anything?" I asked. "Really? You're going with the silent treatment? What if I say that I want to believe you? It was an awkward situation. It seemed personal and I did not want to let something personal get in the way of the business I have with Jackson. Come on, you don't have anything to say about that?"
Fenton shrugged. "Actions speak louder than words." He leaned down over the blonde's bare midriff and savored the second shot. He made a big show out of sucking the lime wedge from her fire engine red lips, but when he looked up, I was staring over the top of them.
On the wall, almost a story high, was a slideshow of Mario's rise to the top. Fenton's loss was heavily featured and now I knew why he wanted to add a photograph of me. The sharp cuts and close-ups of Fenton's first loss to Peretti were all psychological warfare meant to shake his confidence. My picture would surface soon enough.
"Well hopefully reason speaks louder than photographs," I said. "I can explain."
It was too late, Fenton turned around just in time to see the wall-sized shot of Mario kissing me full on the lips. My hands that had been raised to ward him off actually looked like I was embracing him.
I grabbed his shoulder. "Please, Fenton, you have to believe me."
"Like you believed me?" he asked. He did not even glance at me. Fenton yanked his shoulder away and strode across the dance floor to call Peretti out.
The crowd burst into excited chatter and the music stopped. Fenton shoved him as soon as Peretti turned around and for a moment it looked as if the fight would happen right there on the dance floor. The crowd backed away and the two were left in a wide circle.
I tried to push my way in, but the crowd was too tight and too excited to move. Kev appeared
at my side and stopped me.
"Fenton knows it was just a prank. It's all part of the show," Kev said.
"Are you sure? I screwed everything up. What was I supposed to do?" I asked him.
"How about conducting your business over the phone or email like every other agent?" Kev asked.
Peretti puffed out his chest and was strutting around Fenton getting the crowd riled up. Fenton answered with a hard shove that deflated Peretti's chest. Security burst into the circle to haul them both back. Instead of de-escalating the situation, the fight promoter handed Peretti a microphone.
"A fighter's got to keep a cool head and it seems Fenton Morris is ready to lose his again," Peretti said.
Half the crowd cheered and half howled with rage.
"I know that ladies love a man with self-control, with focus, with the ability to see things through to the very end," Peretti said. He shook off the security guards and roamed around half the circle, encouraging the crowd to choose sides. "It’s not my fault if Fenton's woman wants the same thing."
I cringed when the wall-sized photograph reappeared. Fenton fought off his security guards and got right back into Peretti's face. Peretti held the microphone away, but the rough tone of Fenton's voice made his message clear.
"You'll have your turn," Peretti said, leaning back to speak into the microphone. "And when you do, you better apologize to your woman. She's gotta be unsatisfied if she came to me."
Fenton lunged and knocked the microphone from Peretti's hand with a sharp slice of his hand. The crowd cheered and the security guards swarmed the two fighters again. This time, when they ebbed back, it was Fenton who had the microphone.
"Some people become fighters because they think the lifestyle looks cool," he said. "I didn't become a fighter, I was born fighting. I had to fight for everything. I had to fight to keep my family together. I had to fight to keep my sister safe at school. I had to fight to keep food on our table. What I never did was fight to keep my focus. I wanted better from day one, and I'll be damned if I let some strutting scum distract me from that."