by Sasha Gold
Emily and George are so sweet together and touch each other often, clasping each other’s hands or patting each other on the knees. I can’t help but smile when I look at them and the way they light up around Riley. I imagine they made the perfect home for Riley. Where would he be if they hadn’t extended a hand to him?
“You ready for your last fight,” George asks Riley as we finish up breakfast.
I notice the look on Emily’s face. She flushes and excuses herself from the table to take care of dishes. When I make a move to rise, she shakes her head, but I follow her anyway.
“I just can’t stand to listen to him talk about his fighting.” She rinses off the dishes.
“This is his last fight.” I sound like I’m defending him or something. Or acting like the fighting is fine by me, but I can’t stand the look of misery on her face because I know just how she feels.
“Thank God. I worry about his headaches. He went to the doctor but he said he needs to see a specialist or something.”
I’m returning juice and milk back to the fridge and come to a stop.
Emily gives me a look and something in her eyes tells me not to press the issue. To my surprise, she goes on.
“I think it would kill George if something happened to Riley,” she murmurs.
I hear George and Riley get up from the table and go out to the garage. George had been talking about an engine he wanted to lower back into a 1970 Mustang. Apparently they work on the car when Riley comes down to visit.
I hear them laughing out in the garage and a moment later music drifts into the house. Country western music. My mind can’t wrap around the idea of Riley listening to that. He was always a fan of older hard metal and tortured my eardrums with Metallica and AC/DC all the way to Vermont.
“He’s not fighting after this,” I tell her. “I made him promise.”
Emily smiles. “I’m just so glad to see him settling down. He’d told us plenty about you of course, but we never knew he was ready to pop the question. He said that after the fight you two will have a proper wedding with a reception.”
I school my features into a look of agreement. A moment ago Emily almost gave me a heart attack when she mentioned Riley’s headaches, but now my emotions flip and I’m furious that Riley has told this poor, sweet lady that he and I are going to have some fabulous wedding one day.
I’m also having a hard time wrapping my brain around the idea that he’s been talking about me to Emily and George. That little bit of information makes me happy for about two seconds and then I’m back to thinking he’s promising them a wedding. A big wedding.
Excusing myself from the kitchen I head out to the garage so I can talk to my better half. When I push out the door, George looks up from what he’s doing, and I suppose he can tell I’m on a mission because he mutters something about needing to look for something inside.
Riley stands by a car that has its hood open. He wipes his hands on a rag. His white teeth contrast with the stubble on his face. “S’up?”
I cross the garage and after glancing over the project they’re working on, I fold my arms across my chest.
“Emily says you need to see a specialist?”
He shrugs. “So? You worried about me or something?”
“Tell me about that.”
“They think I get headaches from four to six-hour workouts. That’s all.”
I squint as I study his features, wondering if he’s telling me the truth. I’m not sure if I trust him entirely. He’s good at leaving out important parts.”
“Are you in danger?”
“Of what?”
“Fighting this last fight.”
“Every fight is dangerous.”
“Then why don’t you quit now?”
“I want twenty-one wins.”
His smile has vanished and he’s giving me a resolute look, lips thin, jaw set and eyes unwavering. I might as well be arguing with a tree stump. Even though he’s giving me a no-nonsense look I want to reach up and run my fingers through his hair and pull him down to a kiss. This man makes me feel a hundred different emotions in less than ten seconds.
He sees the need in my eyes and takes me by the hand, leading me around the corner to a workshop. There he kisses me, pulling me hard against him. His hands cup my ass and I push hard against his erection. When he grabs my hips and sets me on the table, I cry out in surprise. His kiss muffles most of the noise. I listen for George to return but he doesn’t but I can’t help feeling Riley and I are like two kids sneaking around his parents.
Nuzzling my neck, he speaks softly, “Why did you come out to the garage?”
“I don’t remember.”
He laughs and pulls me to the edge of the table, so his cock is pressed against me intimately. I imagine George coming back and when I squirm, Riley growls his approval.
“No, Riley. Let me go.”
He grabs a fist full of my hair with a force that’s new. The tension in his fist tugs at my hair, stopping just a degree away from painful. The look in his eyes is fierce and I can feel his piercing gaze ripple across my skin. Positioning me where he wants me, he whispers, “Let you go?”
A brush of his lips across mine sparks fierce need deep inside me.
“Never, Leah. You’re mine.”
Chapter Twelve
Riley
The house is quiet when I return from the pre-fight press conference. Usually, the housekeepers are gone by the time dinner is tidied up and that means I’m used to coming home to an empty house. Not tonight. Leah is somewhere and my breathing changes as I search the downstairs.
Sometimes she reads in the den but she’s not there. She likes to work in my study so she can use my computer, but the study is empty. Miranda’s ivory stationery catches my eye. The letter sits in the middle of the desk which tells me Leah has read her stepmother’s rant. It’s a wall of text, a list of all the things Leah will lose if she doesn’t annul our marriage.
The goodies include but aren’t limited to the beach house in the Florida Keys, the penthouse in New York, and some other properties.
The letter was addressed to me and made me smile. I fucking loved to see Miranda unraveling. I know she’d never hand over one dime of the estate unless she could somehow benefit.
Leah’s schooling was top-notch because anything less would be a black mark against the family’s name. Leah’s cars and clothes had to be the very best for the same reason. Everything is arranged to bring glory to the Mathews family and especially Dane. Miranda probably expects to be named Vice President one day. It will be the Mathews and Mathews ticket.
I tuck the letter back into the envelope and toss it aside. When I go upstairs, I see the light on in her bedroom. Knocking softly, I imagine her lying in bed asleep, but there’s an answer and I let myself in.
Her room has a sitting area by the windows and I find her curled up like a cat, leaning her head against the armrest at the end of the couch. She’s in a gown and her hair is cast about her. A moment ago she was asleep and she blinks and stretches.
She waited up for me. I know she wanted to go to the press conference, but I didn’t want her there. Those circuses are filled with rough men and testosterone and swagger. I want to shield her from that part of my life. I know she worries about me and what I do. I used that to get her to agree to the marriage. But there was another reason I didn’t want her there. I don’t want those people to see her or know anything about her. She’s my angel and my good luck and everything I want.
I cross the room and she makes a move to stand, but I coax her back down to the couch. “No.”
She sinks back and looks up at me with wide, curious eyes. I fall to my knees and wrap my arms around her, resting my head between her breasts. I can hear her breath, her heartbeat and when she threads her fingers through my hair, I hear the soft murmur that slips from her lips.
Since she’s been in my house, I’ve felt restless, and easily aggravated. Ivan pisses me off every day and when I s
par, I knock the guy on his ass in seconds. I feel ready to explode. Tonight Vronsky started talking smack about me, saying it’s time for me to retire and settle down and let the younger men have some glory.
When I responded I told the press that Vronsky needed to learn math. I’m only fifteen months older than him. I suggested he needed to go back to school. Then I offered to buy him a calculator. The press loved that and laughed even harder when I promised to teach him what the numbers meant. The man’s a beast but I’m more dangerous. I promised to knock him out in seconds and he stated an offer made by one of his countrymen, to double the purse if he sends me to the hospital.
After the press conference, Vronsky came up to me to throw out a few more threats. He said that he’d keep my pretty wife company while I recovered from the fight. He must know something about me staying away from her, probably because Ivan’s all about celibacy before a fight. Vronsky went on to say he’d be happy to break Leah in for me.
Wrong thing to say. Now I need to not just beat him but I need to teach him a lesson in respect. There’s a difference between trash talking and threatening family members. That’s the way these things go. A ton of shit talking. I used to love it, but tonight all I wanted was to be back here with my girl. I’d rather spar with her than anyone else.
One more night. That’s all. Now it’s just a waiting game.
I draw in a deep breath and the tension rolls off my body. She always makes me feel better. Safe harbor in a storm. But she makes me need to fuck her as much as I need my next breath. Her fingers work their magic on me. A shudder of pleasure makes me groan.
Rising to my feet, I lift her in my arms. She’s small and delicate and melts into my hold. I walk to her bed and she looks into my eyes. Wondering. Questioning if I’m going to press to sleep with her. But I won’t. Not because I don’t want to but because of Vronsky’s words about going after Leah.
It’s funny how when someone tries to tear you down or hurt you, they just help narrow your focus. I’m entering my fight zone. It’s the space in my head where all I think about is what I face. The cage is my universe. I’ve never been afraid in the ring. Not once, and I’m not afraid now. Not even close. But for the first time I have something I can’t lose.
Chapter Thirteen
Leah
The night before the fight, I’m pretty much a wreck. Riley wants me at the fight. He says George and Emily won’t come and he wants me in the arena. I can’t bring myself to argue. When I talk to him, it’s like he’s somewhere else. There’s nothing but cold steel behind his eyes.
I’ve had three texts from Charlotte that say she and Miranda and Dane are coming to the fight. I can’t understand that. At all. But when I sit down at Riley’s desk to search headlines, I find one about the fight and there’s a quote from Miranda. She told the reporter that the family will be there to support Riley because that’s what families do.
Ugh. The last person in the world I want to see right now. The arena seats thousands but I’m sure I’ll see her. I just know it. I can’t get away from her. Human fly paper.
I scan through the rest of the headlines just to distract myself. There’s an article about Dane and the number of violent criminals he’s put away this year. A photograph shows him entering the courtroom in a three-piece suit, carrying a briefcase and looking solemn. I feel a glimmer of pride. He’s not the same kid who taught me how to do chicken farts. He still has his moments but he’s come a long way.
Another story catches my eye about the man Riley is going fight. Not him exactly but his former coach who was arrested for trying to bring drugs into the country. Vronsky paid his bail last week and the man will be at the fight tomorrow night.
I drop my head into my hands and rub my forehead. It seems like the fight is never going to get here. I just want it to be over with. Finally.
Looking out the window, I think about what will happen after the fight. I don’t have to stay. I could slip away from Riley and I don’t think he’d come after me. Or would he. A shiver of pleasure rolls up my spine imagining him chasing me…where? I’m not sure, but the idea makes me feel tingly. I want to think that he wants me. Not just because he can use me somehow, but because he just wants me.
The maid pokes her head in the door. “Ms. Tarrant?”
Her voice yanks me back to reality. I’m not used to being called Ms. Tarrant. Riley thinks it’s amusing because apparently I blush anytime someone calls me that.
“Yes.”
“I did the shopping for you and put the groceries away.”
The groceries… I’d almost forgotten that I invited Ivan, his wife and a few of Riley’s friends over for dinner. “Thank you.”
“Will there be anything else you need?”
I shake my head, thank her and a moment later I hear her and the other ladies leaving. The next hour I spend prepping ingredients for dinner. Riley is down at the gym working with Ivan and although no one has told me not to go down there, the gym has a definite Men Only vibe.
By the time the salad is made, the steaks seasoned and the rest of the side dishes made, it’s time to dress for dinner. First, I pick out some pants, but change my mind and pick out a short, sassy skirt and silk blouse. I would never have worn something like this before coming to Riley’s home. Miranda was the closest thing I had to a mother and she liked to guide my clothing choices, especially when it came to some sort of party or event. The outfit had to be perfect. If I wore something that was showy or sexy or gaudy, I’d get days of stony silence from her.
I hear footsteps outside my door. Riley’s returning from his work out and a moment later I hear his bedroom door close. I imagine him, sweaty, tired but content. Exercise helps him burn off his aggression. For a moment, I consider what he will do with all that energy when he’s not training anymore.
Not training anymore…
The idea both thrills me and terrifies me. After tomorrow night, there will be no reason for us to keep this relationship semi-platonic. I’ve imagined him taking me to bed a thousand time, but I’ve also fretted that he might have no interest in me at all. What if after everything, all this is a ploy? A scheme? Some sort of stunt to link my name with his to build up hype for the fight. I don’t know what he stands to earn with this last fight, but I know it’s a lot. He’s made it clear he wants me at the arena and that cameras shots will cut away to me, The Mystery Woman. Great.
I return to the kitchen so I can finish off the final details of dinner. It’s simple. Flat-iron steaks in a wine and mushroom sauce, mashed potatoes and a few other sides for variety.
Riley has invited his lawyer and publicist and he takes them to the living room for a drink. A few minutes later, Ivan arrives with his wife, Sofia. She’s a sweetheart and even though she’s in her first trimester and doesn’t feel great, she pitches in to help when it’s time to serve the meal.
I’ve planned this for days but my appetite isn’t any better than Sofia’s. We eat in the dining room, and everyone tells me how wonderful dinner is but I can barely muster a response. Ivan studies me with interest, his gaze darting from me to Riley and back again.
Sofia smiles. “Neither of us thought Riley would ever settle down, but we’re glad he did, right Ivan?”
Ivan nods and lifts his glass to me. “Marriage is a good thing. It civilizes a man.”
Sofia smiles at him. “I’m still waiting.”
She and I exchange small talk while Riley walks his lawyer and publicist out. They both say a polite goodbye, tell me dinner was great and then they’re gone. I notice Ivan’s look of disdain when they leave. I can tell he doesn’t care for the commercial aspects of fighting.
When Riley returns he’s as quiet and remote as he’s been all week. A few days ago he came to me and rested his head against me. He never said a word. The gesture melted my heart and I wanted to hold him there but he didn’t stay. He doesn’t ask if he can come to my bed or joke about hauling me to his and I feel him slipping away from me. Disengaging. He
’s barely polite to Sofia and says only a few words to Ivan.
“You’re a wonderful cook, Leah,” Sofia says as she helps me clear the table.
“You don’t need to help me clear the table. You’re probably exhausted.”
“Not at all. Ivan asked me to quit my job at the dentist’s office a few weeks ago and all I do is sit around. I’m like a house cat.” She pats her flat stomach. “A roly-poly house cat.”
I laugh even though at ten weeks I’m pretty sure she’s a long way from showing.
“Have you always been such a good cook?” she asks as she rinses the plates.
If I had good manners, I’d urge her out of the kitchen and away from the dishes, but I find her conversation comforting. Riley’s distanced himself from me, and I feel a little lost without his usual teasing.
“When it was just Dad and me, we ate whatever.” I start stacking the rinsed plates in the dishwasher. “We ate sandwiches. Frozen pizza. Total bachelor food. And when he married my stepmom, she hired a cook. Not just any cook, but a professional chef. When I went off to school, I didn’t really like the cafeteria food. I guess I’d gotten spoiled by Miranda’s chef. So I started reading cookbooks and watching shows. I used to cook a huge Sunday brunch for the girls in my sorority.”
Sofia gives me a handful of silverware to load. “That sounds pretty nice.”
“It was fun. One day I’m going to take a cooking class.”
Ivan walks in at that moment and leans against the doorway. “You can take my Sofia with you.”
She lets out a snort of indignation. “Don’t listen to him. Just because I don’t cook Russian dishes he thinks my cooking is bad.”
Ivan chuckles and I’m amazed by the way his face is transformed by his smile. He’s handsome and the way he looks at Sofia twists something inside of me.
Sofia keeps rinsing dishes and grumbles about his lack of gratitude and he’ll be sorry when he has to make his own breakfast in the morning. The two go back and forth for a while longer and when the dishes are done, we wander back out to the dining room.
