by Sunniva Dee
“How do you explain that shirt then? It’s incredibly sexy.”
I’m so angry I don’t know what to say. My eyes stray across the street, to the entrance of Alliance Cage Warriors. If Victor were here, he’d jump to the rescue of every Hooters girl about now, probably on his feet already, tall and mad and delicious.
“It’s my work top. Nothing for you to worry about.”
“Well, call me crazy, but I care about how my future wife dresses.” He raises his eyebrows like he’s making sense and we have an agreement.
I turn and face him with my whole body. “Listen, I’m sorry about everything. You and I, we’re not getting married. I can’t take back the stress I’ve put on you and our families by leaving you at the altar, but it would have been worse if I had gone through with the ceremony. I’m too young, and I don’t feel that way about you.”
As soon as I’ve vomited all the words, I feel bad for him, but Gunther Wilhelm makes a swiping gesture with his hand, brushing me off. “Oh honey, I’ve got enough love for the both of us. Yours will grow with the abundance of Kyria. You’ll see.”
Wow, that sounded like a quote from some old-fashioned play. Now his chin sinks, touching a small fold at his throat. Gunther Wilhelm the Fourth is clearly pleased with himself. Is he stranger by the minute, or has he always been this odd? Perhaps it’s just that he’s out of place in this mild, laidback paradise.
“Gunther Wilhelm, I can’t do it, okay?”
“No, not now. But let’s get Kyria in tip-top shape together.” He squeezes one of my hands reassuringly between his two weak ones. “We’ve got plenty of time to discuss our plans, all right? Deal?” he adds the last word playfully in English.
A deal with Gunther Wilhelm.
“No,” I sigh out, tired of it all. “We don’t have a deal that could lead to marriage. Please accept that. I’ve been an idiot in the way I’ve handled all of this, but I can’t go back and redo that. Just… again: I’m sorry.”
He insists on following me to the door. He opens it for me, our waitress keeping a watchful eye in case we’re about to take off without paying.
“Dear Isabella Maria Helena,” Gunther Wilhelm starts. “I’ll be honest with you. Your father mentioned that you might have met some sort of fighter here? Your mother, of course, was not happy to learn this. Please remember that someone like that would not fit into your future. Do us all a favor and think about other people too. What about your village? You’re not in a position to just follow your own little wishes and pleasures.”
My mouth hangs open. Who is this entitled son-of-a-bitch, and what makes him think he’s got a right to butt into my life—he even told Mama about Victor? I know Papa didn’t do that.
This isn’t the boy who hid behind his parents until he was summoned on family picnics and tournaments. That’s who I thought I was marrying. He’s overstepping so hard, way past the boundaries of my privacy. I’m mentally unfriending Gunther Wilhelm the Fourth.
I stride out of there with no promises made and my dignity half-intact. I’m not graceful though. I stomp out and slam the door behind me.
Fighters warm up in the backrooms. They pass me in the hallway and shoot me a friendly “hey, sweetheart,” with a compliment or a flirty air kiss. They’re cocky, hyped up. Some quietly introspective. I like their good-natured ribbing, the way they jostle each other in lieu of greetings sometimes.
But Gunther Wilhelm the Fourth is ruining the excitement that usually floods me at these events. I wish he wasn’t in town. And I wish he’d kept his damn yapper shut.
Tonight’s fights are in Tampa. Allyn works the event with me, and we drove here together. Jaden’s on the bill. Victor hasn’t texted me, but I’m pretty sure he’ll be supporting his friend. I’ve changed into my red bikini, bra clasp securely locked under my hair—there’ve been accidents, Allyn told me, with girls having wardrobe malfunctions and flashing the audience. I’m so not doing that.
I stuff a few cotton pads at the bottom of each cup though, lifting my boobs to Hooters level. Maybe it’s at the thought of Victor. Or maybe it’s because I’m pissed about Gunther Wilhelm the Fourth’s comment. I mean, what’s wrong with flaunting what Mother Nature gives a girl? It doesn’t make anyone promiscuous.
Oh yes, Victor’s here. He’s wearing washed-out jeans. That simple black tee isn’t made to be form-fitted, I think, but he fills it so beautifully it makes me gawk.
He must feel my eyes on him from my bench, because he turns and sees me. We do that. Why do we do that? It happens at Stripes too. Every time I arrive and he’s upstairs in the fighters’ area, he instantly sees me. He and I, we don’t even greet each other then, no wave, no smile.
The lights dim over the audience, and he doesn’t take his eyes off me. The walk-on music for the first fighter grows with the pace of my heart. Victor looks away, and I’m not spellbound anymore. I can watch Jaden strut in, giving one hard punch to his own chest before he lifts his arm in acknowledgment to the crowd.
Victor walks up to the cage, stands there, arms crossed and watching his friend. His reactions mesmerize me. He’s cagey and deliberate in all he does, but tonight his body shifts subtly with the strikes of his buddy.
Jaden takes a definitive beating in round three. Allyn is done. She makes a sad-face as she leans the round four sign against our bench seat. “Gah, he was so close.”
“Yeah, bummer,” I say.
The heavy-weighters are mine. I walk up the stairs. Slow and ballroom-majestic, I press my chest forward and straighten, my smile wide and gaze dreamy. It’s how the best girls do it. I want to be good at this, hype the audience pre-fight and in between rounds like I’m supposed to do.
The music thumps as I circle the ring, defying the glaring LED lights over me with my eyes wide open. Until Gunther Wilhelm the Fourth comes into view.
He’s not on the first benches. Not even on the second half of the benches. No, he stands behind them, still in that awful suit, and he’s got his thumbs in his dress-pants pockets. The man looks like a seventies’ porn star. Disdain paints his every feature, and it’s an expression I haven’t witnessed on him before. My smile falters.
Instinctively, my attention shifts to ACW’s row at the front right. Dawson sits next to Jaden, talking quietly to him, but on his left side, closer to me, is Victor. His eyes are on me now, and I register exactly when he reads my distress.
Victor doesn’t move from his seat, but with a body entirely made of muscle and tendons, you’re bound to see when he tenses. His gaze remains on me as I descend the stairs aiming at relaxed.
Oh God, Gunther Wilhelm’s disdain. One thing is the overbearing fiancé wannabe. Another is that sudden scary, single-minded focus I just saw on his face. His expression has changed though when I sneak another glance. Now he’s studious blankness, which to be honest, doesn’t scare me any less.
Victor turns. Scans the audience, focus flicking to me, then to the back again. There are too many people here though, and I doubt that he’ll figure it out. How would he even know who to look for?
I sit down, not feeling the comforting heat of the audience at my back. I return to the ring three more times. Each time Gunther Wilhelm is in view, and his disdain roams from my bikini to my legs and my heels.
I shudder despite the hot lights. I keep my smile though, even when Victor frowns below me. I’m glad I insisted on “saving myself for the wedding bed” during our engagement. How could I ever have considered sleeping with him?
Children. Oh my God, I was supposed to have children with him. Little Gunther Wilhelms the Fifth and Sixth and Sevenths… The conversation with Victor at the airport doesn’t seem funny anymore.
I have one more fight to work before I’m done for the night. I can’t wait for it to be over so I can leave. I want to hitch a ride with Allyn, get home quickly. I want to lock the door and go to sleep.
I see Victor stand as I’m finishing round two of my last match of the night. He lasers over my expression, st
rolls to the back of the rows until he gets to the far end of the floor. The auditorium seating beyond only has a smattering of spectators, but he knows that’s not where my target has been.
I gasp when he’s so close he almost brushes elbows with Gunther Wilhelm. Even at a distance, I register Victor’s lips thin. He swings discreetly, his stare freezing on the freak next to him.
Gunther Wilhelm the Fourth is at a disadvantage. He doesn’t own the instincts of cavemen, of wild animals, doesn’t feel the attention of a predator at his side. His obsession remains on me, following every turn I make. His stare bores into me, lowers to my bikini top as I lift the sign as high as I must for the auditorium crowd to see it too.
I’m still smiling.
My ex-fiancé has never done anything to hurt me, I repeat to myself. All he has ever done is try to save Kyria and my family from bankruptcy, from having to sell our home to people who might exploit it instead of loving it. Gunther Wilhelm wasn’t the one who suggested marriage. I was. I was. He went along with my thing—and yet goose bumps raise on my body with disgust.
Victor crosses his arms next to Gunther Wilhelm. Half a head taller and fit as hell, he’s found his prey. He doesn’t make another move. He’s just there, guarding him, waiting to see if he’ll register that he’s got company. He doesn’t.
Me, I’ve got the instincts all right. My cavewoman tells me I’m not safe alone around Gunther Wilhelm anymore. But I need no instinct to know that as long as Victor is here, my ex can’t touch me.
Soon, the lights flash back on, and the event is officially over. A rust-colored suit moves toward me. Gunther Wilhelm has anger simmering and blood-red lips parted. He wants to talk to me. Oh he wants more than that—what else does he want?
Victor is right behind him. When Gunther Wilhelm reaches for my arm, wanting to haul me to my feet, Victor grabs him by the shoulders and jerks him back.
“Sorry, you’re in the wrong area,” Victor growls. “The exit is that way.”
My ex puffs his chest up, eyes blazing with indignation as he swings—until he stares right into Victor’s closed face.
“Sir, with all due respect,” Gunther Wilhelm says, his accent thick around the phrase he’s heard too many times on TV shows. “Let go, please, so I can speak with my fiancée.”
“I’m not your fiancée.” I get to my feet, take two steps back, and collide with Allyn.
“Wilhelm Gunther the Fifteenth, I suppose?” Victor does a subtle, irreverent bow, holding his stare with a smirk. “A pleasure, I’m sure. Could be, anyway, if it weren’t for the slight problem of you being in my way. Helena and I were just about to leave.”
Confusion and anger twist Gunther Wilhelm’s expression. “My name is Gunther Wilhelm the Fourth, and I’m here to get Baroness Isabella Maria Helena Ludenlow von Isenlohe out of here before you… crude people can taint her any more than you already have!”
I’m not sure what he intended to say, but that came off really awkward. His lip is trembling too, with anger or fear, I don’t know. Victor isn’t threatening though, nothing like how he’s been at Hooters. Gunther Wilhelm might simply not appreciate his inflexible assertiveness the way I do.
Victor follows me out, his body blocking my ex’s access until we’re at Allyn’s car.
“I’m not sure what you’re trying to do, here, but I’ve got her number,” my ex whines to Victor. “I came here to talk, Helena,” he adds. “We need to sort things out.”
“What things? We’ve talked on the phone. We talked in person this morning. There’s nothing more to say.”
“He came to see you this morning?” Victor’s voice is low, aimed at me only.
“Ja, I took her out for breakfast. It’s a fiancée thing,” Gunther Wilhelm simpers.
This is so strange. How can he be so insistent? I don’t remember Gunther Wilhelm like this. Then again, I’ve never seen him in a confrontation before. Maybe he always handles them like a scarily stubborn man-child?
“Okay. Helena isn’t your fiancée. She’s not even your girlfriend.”
“Oh she’s got the ring to prove it. Ask her,” Gunther Wilhelm says. He wriggles the tight opening at the collar of his shirt, the skin red with frustration beneath it.
“I’ve seen the ring. I helped her take it off.” Victor’s gaze is so calm. “It wasn’t easy. See, it clung to her like a leech. Is that what you are, W.G. the Fifteenth? A fucking leech? Because get this: as far as I’m concerned, the only man in Helena’s life is me.”
VICTOR
“What do I do with you?” I ask, stroking her cheek. I’ve got Helena tucked against my body in her bed. She’s soft, melding to it, smooth skin sliding against me whenever she squirms to get more comfortable.
She was shivering when I lowered her into the passenger seat of my car; I wasn’t going to let her ride home with Allyn, who’s even smaller than her, because clearly, that Gunther dude is delusional. No foreign jerk’s going to intimidate Helena into continuing a relationship she fled from in a fucking wedding dress.
She’s calm now, relaxed in my arms. It’s nice that she trusts me. I wish I could always be around to protect her. “When’s he leaving Florida?”
“I don’t know,” she murmurs, nuzzling her nose in beneath my ear. “Soon, I hope. He’s here for business. Acquiring something—property or money, not sure.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“What?” Her voice muffles against my throat, vibrating and making me grow.
“He’s not here for business. Unless you’re business to him.”
“No, he wouldn’t have come just for me. He’s got plenty to take care of at home. Gunther Wilhelm is all about heaping up funds. He’s the youngest son of the youngest son of the youngest son in his family, and the most ambitious and talented so far. My ex wants to show the eldest son of the eldest son of the eldest son the middle finger, flaunting a financial prosperity they can’t match.”
“Where do you fit into this?” I ask, kissing her neck, traveling down her shoulder to the inside of her elbow. She’s ticklish there, skin delicate and so white that my hard-on thickens.
“Nowhere, which is how it’ll stay. I made one giant mistake, and I won’t repeat it.”
“Good,” I murmur, rubbing two fingers through her cleft, spreading her moisture. “We need to find out where he’s staying, okay?”
Helena’s hips move with me, and quiet gusts of pleasure surge from her throat. “I don’t want to talk with him again.”
“Good. But I want to find out when he leaves the country. Hopefully, it’s a short visit.”
“I could ask my dad if he knows.” She’s hesitant, her response to my hands slowing too, so I whip her on top of me and sit up, pressing her against me.
“Never mind—for now,” I whisper. “Take this instead.” I press inside her, making her moan.
“Oh lord.”
I’m there when Helena calls her ex Saturday morning. Her spine curves anxiously, and I don’t like it. I should be in my parking garage, running my ass off right now, but I need to see her through this. Worst case, if she’s not working today, I’ll take her to the garage so I can watch her while I train.
“Hello?” she says, voice not assertive enough. I straighten, giving her strength and tipping her chin up so she meets my eyes.
I nod at her and mouth, Don’t let him scare you.
“Hey, yes, it’s me,” she continues. “We hadn’t talked much last night, and I was wondering when you’re… Yes. Yes, I know. Victor wanted to leave.” She shakes her head at me as the dude jabbers on the other end.
“Yeah, that’s true, but you didn’t exactly show a good side either. You were a little threatening.” She bites her lip, hating the conversation. “Well, I don’t find Victor threatening. I happen to like him.” Helena squints. Then she turns away. “That’s none of your business.”
“What’s he asking?” I cross my arms, not happy with him dominating their conversation. She doesn’t answer,
doesn’t swing back to me, so I take her by the shoulders and twist her gently myself.
He asked if I’m sleeping with you, she enunciates.
That’s it. The guy’s so beyond polite conversation it’s not even funny. I loosen her grip on the phone. She’s more than willing to let go, and I press it to my ear. “W.G the Fifteenth?” I begin. “Yes, she’s sleeping with me. Now, when does your plane take off again? Today?”
He hangs up on me, and I want to punch myself in the face. What the hell was that? I went all out—no impulse control whatsoever. Helena titters with a mixture of humor and nerves.
Fuck. Now we have no clue where he’s staying or for how long.
Just.
Just.
Dandy.
HELENA
It’s been a quiet few days. W.G., as Victor insists on calling him, hasn’t called since Victor picked up on the first ring, shouting, “What do you want? If you don’t stay the fuck away from Helena, I will violently beat you.”
Gunther Wilhelm the Fourth hung up without even speaking, and Victor slapped himself in the face afterward, because obviously, at this rate we’ll never learn when he’s leaving the country.
It’s a slow Tuesday morning at work. Cass and I are playing tic-tac-toe in the powdered sugar she’s spilled by the sink. We’re alone, with Johnny-boy gone feeding his haggle of super-sweet pit bulls.
“Yess!” I make a fist that I shake in front of Cass’ face. “See there? I am the tic-tac-toe master of Hooters.”
She snorts, rolling her eyes. “Who the heck shakes their fist when they win?”
“Me. Now you’ve seen it all,” I say.
My phone rings. Since Gunther Wilhelm arrived last week, I’ve been jumpy about my phone, but today it’s my father. “Can you handle it here for a minute?” I ask Cass, and she nods me off.
I flip the screen on so I can see him. “Hi, Papa. Everything okay?” I start, a little out of breath with concern. “Mama all right? Kyria?”
“Hi, Schatz. Everyone’s all right here, don’t you worry.” He takes a deep breath. “I wanted to tell you that Gunther Wilhelm left for Miami a few days ago. I wasn’t sure if you knew.”