Claiming The Prize

by Nadja Notariani

  Chapter 4

  The exhausting day at an end, Drago savored the healing power of the jetted shower water massaging his muscles before re-entering the locker room to prepare for the evening. Donning dark jeans and a black, long-sleeved jersey that clung to his chiseled form, Drago fastened the gold, orthodox double cross around his neck. It had been given to him on his confirmation by his parents. He wore it whenever he wasn't in the gym, in memory of the loving parents taken from him unexpectedly.

  Mihovil and Sarai Zadrovec had been a loving and generous couple. Saying goodbye to their son, who stayed behind with Mihovil's brother, Slavko and his family, they had traveled south along the Adriatic coast bringing food, medicine, and Bibles to a few destitute villages nestled inland. They thought to be away only three weeks. Ethnic tensions ran deep within the war torn territory of what was formerly Yugoslavia, and while the couple slept, they were robbed and murdered. Whether for money or racial hatred, he never found out. He was thankful that his Uncle Slavko and Aunt Visnja had kept him and raised him alongside their own children, and despite the tragedy, Drago had enjoyed a home with much love and closeness with his aunt and uncle's family. They fostered the deep faith his parents had instilled in him, a faith he had recklessly abandoned at the beginning of his career.

  His early success had created something of a celebrity status for him in his country, and that fact left him rarely wanting for female companionship. Running in the circles of young, Slovakian elite, the steps away from the roots of his faith were small, but many. Before he realized what had happened, he was far from the Savior he claimed to love. The day he suffered a devastating defeat in Japan, the house of cards he had built for himself collapsed around him.

  It was the best thing that could have happened.

  He had been badly injured during a fight. Vanessa Kane, the woman who claimed to love him, had shown him just how empty his life had become by casting him aside thoughtlessly in favor of one of the night's victors. Painful as it had been, it was a blessing from God. Drago learned then that physical pain could be endured more easily than inner turmoil. He learned that faith and family were the stable rocks one could cling to in the storms of life, and that the partner he desired in life would have to share his faith, must be beautiful inside, loyal, and would love him, Drago Zadrovec, not the image of a fighter. It was a turning point in his life.

  His restored relationship with the Lord grounded and refocused him. It had brought him to where he was today. Today, where his career hinged between two worlds. Today, where a dark haired beauty captured a piece of his heart. Tonight, where he was eager to spend an evening alone with her.

  Even if it would be only a trip to a local grocery store, he mused to himself.

  Activity behind him jarred Drago from his thoughts. Turning, he observed Carson Khaler sauntering up to the sink and mirror. He, too, had plans for the evening, it seemed. Drago packed his red duffel bag, glad to have something to focus his attention on rather than the only other person in the locker. Finishing his task, Drago slung the nylon strap over his leather-jacketed shoulder and headed for the door. When he passed Carson, the man cut the silence between them.

  “Hey, Drago, you got a minute?”

  Drago stopped, giving a nod.

  “Look, I noticed you watching Grace today, that you had lunch together in her office, that she cornered you this afternoon...,” He put a sympathetic look on before continuing. “Watch yourself, man.”

  Carson paused, knowing that if Drago asked for more information, he would set his hook. But Drago, in this situation as in the ring, wore an unqualified expression, neither friendly nor contemptuous. After the awkward silence hung a moment, Drago simply nodded and began to walk away.

  “Wait a minute,” Carson conceded. “What I'm saying is that everyone at First Strike knows that Grace Antolini is off-limits. Guy's real funny about his daughter, man. I just don't want to see you get on his bad side, being the newbie and all. Besides,” he smiled lecherously, “I've worked every angle there is on Gracie in the two years I've been here. If anybody here was gonna gain the old man's blessing and finally break that shit in, it would've been me.”

  Drago understood perfectly. Carson wanted Grace Antolini, but she wasn't interested. Had the bastard actually said, break that shit in? He wanted to break Khaler's jaw right now. Drago's eyes grew dark at Carson's words, their black glint feral and disturbing as he responded.

  “Guy or no, have respect when you speak about the man's daughter. Any interest I may have for Grace Antolini is not your concern.”

  Having made himself clear, he walked away. Carson's words echoed in the locker behind him.

  “Hey, I was just trying to help you out, man. Relax.”

  Overhead lighting illuminated the reception desk and entrance of First Strike. The rest of the gym was dark, save the upstairs offices where the coaches gathered for the weekly status reports. Grace sat behind the main desk studying the computer screen as Drago emerged from the dark interior.

  “You are working yet?” he asked with a hint of surprise.

  Grace startled when his deep voice broke the quiet, but a smile replaced her surprise quickly.

  “Not exactly. I was just sending schedules to the printer. It can do the work after I'm gone.”

  Laughing at her own perceived wit, Grace exited the system, ready to call it a day. The gust of cold air caused them both to turn toward the entrance as Savannah Jameson clicked across the polished entryway in black, heeled boots. Five-feet eight-inches tall, lean and pretty Savannah worked for the local paper's sports desk. She popped in periodically for information on an article she was assigned or to talk with Guy about local upcoming events. Slightly older than Grace at twenty-seven years old, Savannah was a knockout. Blond hair like golden silk draped over her shoulders in heavy, loose waves. Deep blue eyes, set above smooth, peach cheeks bright from the cold, gazed around the building confidently. Always dressed well, she never failed to capture attention when she entered a room.

  “Hi, Savannah,” Grace said in surprise. “Guy's in a meeting...,”

  “Oh, I'm not here for work,” Savannah clarified. “I'm here for Carson.”

  “Vannah! Over here!” Carson called out.

  Grace turned, expecting to find Drago engaged in appreciation of Savannah Jameson, but his gaze was firmly fixed on her. She was more than a little pleased.

  “Are you ready for an exciting grocery run?” she laughed easily, making sport of their less than exotic plans. “Let's go.”

  They headed for the door when Grace stopped.

  “Sorry, I forgot my bag.”

  Carson and Savannah were now in front of the desk, and Carson grabbed her bag and handed it to her.

  “Where are you two going?”

  “Well,” Grace hesitated, looking over her shoulder at Drago before answering. “Are you hungry, Drago?”

  “Very,” he replied, peering directly into her eyes.

  “We're going to dinner then,” Grace informed Carson, turning back toward Drago. “My father suggested that I take you out and feed you after the day you put in.”

  Grace had no idea about their earlier conversation, so without intent she rubbed salt into the festering wound of jealousy in Carson's heart.

  Drago raised an eyebrow when Carson's glare locked on him at Grace's revelation that Guy had recommended they dine together. Carson looked away, and with that, Drago held the door, the pair walking into the cold, starry evening.

  * * *

  Drago and Grace shared a fabulous dinner at The Levant, a Persian restaurant, talking easily throughout the meal. Drago insisted on paying the bill when it arrived, refusing Grace's offer to pay half.

  “Allow me to pay, Grace. It will make me happy if you accept.”

  “I'll accept on one condition,” Grace stated.

  “And what condition would that be?” Drago asked, an odd smile crossing his countenance.

  “That you allow me to pay for c
offee if it is not too late when we finish at the store.”

  “I accept your terms,” he responded rather seriously.

  Seriously enough that Grace wondered if she had said something rude – he was from a foreign country. Bothered, she wanted to clear up any misunderstanding quickly.

  “Drago, did I offend you?” she inquired tentatively.

  He remained quiet a few breath's space before gently questioning her.

  “Grace, do you only trade favors with me? Is that what we are doing?”

  She thought a moment, carefully considering her response.

  “I don't want only to trade favors with you, no. I meant to show that I didn't mind if it cost me something to enjoy your companionship.”

  “Will you have this coffee with me if I do not agree to your conditions?” he pressed her, having grasped a better understanding of her words.

  Grace was smiling in spite of the serious exchange.

  “I will.”

  “Then I do not agree to your conditions, but I would like to drink coffee with you, Grace Antolini.”

  The smile that tied her in knots was spread across his face as they entered the store.

  Drago was impressed with the massive Kashi's grocery store. Up and down every aisle they went. Drago inspected the rows of goods in amazement as well as the deli, meat counter, cheese assortments, fish market, and bakery, all housed within one building. He didn't buy much.

  Grace explained the purpose of the comparison tags listing pricing per ounce, knowing he used the metric system, and Drago commented on the vast selection amongst like products. Rounding the corner, they entered the baby aisle, the fresh smell of talcum powder filling their noses. Drago kept his unhurried pace, and to Grace's surprise, he examined these products just as thoroughly.

  “Do you hope for children one day, Grace?”

  “I do,” she answered honestly, continuing to read the labels.

  Drago smiled to himself at her answer.

  “I do, too.”

  They steadily browsed, comparing their tastes in food, finding they liked many of the same foods, but prepared them differently.

  The hour was early enough that they decided to go for coffee. Dropping their purchases at home, Grace discovered her father was still out, and wanted to stop by the gym on their way.

  “The meeting must have run late tonight. Either they got into some serious strategy planning, or they talked all night!”

  “Do you think your father would like to come with us?” Drago asked.

  “He'll probably want to get home. He's not much of a night-owl.”

  Guy's black SUV was not there, but other cars were scattered in the lot.

  “He likely went out with the Friar and Ike for a late dinner after the meeting. I'm wondering why the downstairs lights are still on. It's after nine o'clock. Will you come in with me?”

  “I would not let you go without me,” he asserted.

  The building was quiet. The upstairs was dark, and Grace went to the light-board thinking someone had simply forgotten to turn them all off. It was then that she noticed the locker and whirlpool room lights were on as well, and she related this to Drago.

  He hesitated before saying, “Grace, let me check the locker area just in case someone is in there.”

  She agreed, not wanting to storm in on an unsuspecting soul who had stayed late to get in an extra practice. Drago disappeared down the hallway that led to the lockers. Hearing muffled noises, he was certain someone was still there. He was not prepared for the scene that greeted him.

  Seated in the whirlpool was Savannah Jameson with Carson in front of her pumping himself in and out of her mouth. Drago averted his eyes and moved to leave unnoticed. He would tell Grace that Carson was there, nothing more. His mind reeled. Should he speak with Guy Antolini about what he had just seen? He knew the man would not approve of Carson's actions, but probably didn't become involved in his fighters' personal lives. What if he had not been there and Grace had walked in on them?

  Drago reappeared into view, striding over to the desk, and Grace relaxed.

  “It is only Carson.”

  “Carson? I thought he had a date tonight. What is he doing here?”

  Not wanting to reveal what he had previously discovered in the locker, but unwilling to lie, Drago gave the only answer he could think of.

  “Enjoying the whirlpool, Grace.”

  She laughed, unknowing how true the words were.

  “Well, you did deal a good blow to his ego this afternoon, as well as to his head. I guess he needed a good soak after that match. He can lock up when he's done; Anto gave him a key.”

  Drago steered her out the door, desperately wanting to get out of there before Carson and Savannah got any louder. After witnessing the pair's activity, he recognized the sounds for what they were. Safely away, Drago felt only slightly better. Not only did he need to decide whether to tell Guy about tonight's events, he had the added problem of the tension those images caused in his body.

  * * *

  Carson had asked Savannah to pick him up mostly to irritate the Slovak. She had thrown the signals, and he knew she'd not turn him down. Besides, she was blond and beautiful, his favorite type of bed-partner. He figured she might be entertainment for awhile, something to get his mind off Grace Antolini's flat out rejection. Carson had been somewhat comforted by the fact that Grace didn't date anyone. Now, he wasn't so sure. She had never accepted his dinner invitations, even as a friend, but she had openly asked Zadrovec. And his attempt at intimidation had gone wrong, too. Frankly, it hadn't worked at all. Carson wanted to indulge in some good fucking and forget the both of them, at least for tonight.

  He and Savannah had gone out for burgers and beer at a little place just down the road. Over dinner, Carson realized he wasn't going to have to work hard at all this night. Savannah let him know she wanted him, and when they finished their meals, she boldly confronted him.

  “Take me back to your gym, Carson. I'm going to fuck your brains out.”

  Something about her sexy voice and the blatant descriptions of what she wanted to do turned him on immensely. The short drive to First Strike was agonizing for him as Savannah bared her breasts and pulled at her pink nipples, and Carson was hard as iron by the time they slipped in the back. Right inside the door, Savannah took control, pushing him roughly against the wall and rubbing her hands over the bulge in his jeans. She reached under his shirt and pinched his nipples as she dropped to her knees, hardening him further, and ripped his button fly open, exposing his rigid cock and squeezing him firmly while grazing her teeth, very lightly, once down his length. The potential danger her roughness hinted at fueled his lust. Slowly, she took him in her mouth, sucking as her hand clamped his shaft. He had never been so turned on. Carson yanked her away before he came right there, and she smiled wickedly as they hurried into the locker. He turned the lights and jetted tub on quickly, and when he turned around, Savannah was naked on the tile floor, splayed wide, pleasuring herself.

  “Come over here, Carson,” she purred.

  As he shed his clothing, Savannah rose and stood in front of the sink and wall mirror. She bent over the counter and looked over her shoulder seductively. He was behind her in an instant, running his hands over her full breasts, his throbbing erection rubbing her entrance. The foil packet in his hand scraped over her skin, halting his exploration as he fumbled to open it quickly. Rolling the condom over his tight flesh, Carson grabbed Savannah's hips and speared into her.

  Their bodies worked furiously to achieve the ecstasy they craved like a drug, hungry to drown out the world. Carson was an aggressive lover, taking what he wanted, demanding, but Savannah matched his roughness, surpassed it. He cursed loudly, slamming his hips into her violently as he came, her orgasm milking him dry. Chest heaving, Carson wrapped his arms around her hips and began kissing her creamy skin.

  “What are you doing?” Savannah asked mockingly. “Do you suppose I'm aching for your tender
attentions?”

  She laughed and disengaged from him, walking over to the whirlpool tub and sinking beneath the bubbling surface. Carson was left standing alone. As a moth to flame, he followed her, fascinated. Savannah reached into her leather jacket beside the pool and withdrew two small pills which she swallowed without taking a drink.

  “What was that?” Carson demanded.

  “The recipe for the best sex you'll ever have, Khaler. Want to give it a try? You'll thank me...”

  Pulling out two more tablets, Savannah pushed them into Carson's mouth sensually. Caught up in his arousal and the promise of more, he accepted her poison of choice.

  “Better than before?” he grinned.

  “That was child's play, baby.”

  Half an hour later, the drug induced haze of sensitization left them both completely unaware that they had been seen by Drago. Savannah, arms stretched across the sides of the bath's edge as she soaked in the heated water, moaned as Carson thrust in and out of her hot mouth greedily. He groaned in pleasure and withdrew from her, grabbing her out of the water and laying her on the cool, white subway tiles on the floor. Bending her knees, he rolled her hips out, holding her completely open. Lost in the high together, neither noticed nor cared that he had no condom as he slid into her.

  Their enhanced arousal lasted through the wee hours of the morning, and by that time, Carson had filled her multiple times with his semen. Finally collapsing in exhaustion at her place, Carson drifted into slumber thinking he had found the woman of his dreams. At least for this week.

  * * *

  Drago trotted from the showers after his last workout before the afternoon break. Heading for Grace's office, he hoped to find her as he usually did, working at her desk unaware of the time and free for lunch.

  “Grace,” he called in after tapping on the door frame, “it is time for lunch. Do you have plans?”

  “Do I ever?” she laughed. “I've had more lunch dates since you arrived than I've had ...well, ever!”