by EMILIE ROSE
He wasn’t angry about becoming that man—he was proud of what he’d accomplished. He wasn’t even angry that Jess had left. Who could blame her, considering Dad’s reaction?
Mostly, he was angry because he was still angry. Jess reminded him of all the lessons their father had beaten into him, all the things a man was supposed to be. All the things he’d failed at....
“Sometimes,” Bella said soberly, “there’s no room for compromise.”
His morose thoughts were interrupted by someone shouting Bella’s name. They both halted. Quinn Bourdain ran up to them. “Bella, I’m sorry. I want to make sure you didn’t take my question personally,” she said.
Bella shrugged, but she was a touch cool. “You were doing your job. But I thought you, of all people, would’ve understood my comment in context.”
“I did. And I do. But you’re about to go under a ton of scrutiny, and that article is going to show up again and again. I thought I might head off any misunderstanding if I asked the question.”
“So you were doing me a favor by pointing out my weight disadvantage?” Bella gave her a skeptical once-over and started to turn away.
“Ryan Holbrooke’s in Vegas as we speak,” Quinn said. Kyle jarred to a stop as Bella swung back around. The reporter had his attention, and she stood poised with her notebook. “The last time I talked to him, he told me something that disturbed me, and I wanted to get your comment.”
“Okay, Quinn, so tell us what he said.”
The reporter flipped to a page. “He said, Bella, that you were, and I quote, ‘a second-rate Fiore with no drive to succeed.’ He also accused you of making sexual advances toward him in order to gain his attention and firing him when he didn’t give you said attention. He called you ‘a supercilious diva’ and said anyone who took you on as a client would get what they deserved.” Her lips twisted distastefully.
Kyle’s blood boiled. “You tell that pompous asshat—”
“No comment.” Bella pushed Kyle forward, one strong hand pressed against the small of his back. She paused and gave a short humorless laugh. “I really thought you were better than this, Quinn.”
The redhead gave a dry smile. “I probably am. But if you want to survive in this business, you do what you have to. I’m just asking the questions. If you want to revise your counterstatement, give me a call.”
“I’m going to find Ryan and strangle him with his own tie,” Kyle said once they got to the rental car, slamming the door behind him. “You know, I found out that the Star Gym in NOLA banned him. Apparently, the guy was harassing a woman there. I can’t believe that jackoff is taking his shit out on you now.”
“Are you going to drive angry? Because my contract clearly says I’m not allowed to do anything dangerous before a fight.”
He fumed as he pulled out of the parking spot. “We should release a statement, nip this in the bud. I don’t want Quinn or anyone else spreading these lies.”
“Joel says the best statement you can make is to say nothing at all. Don’t feed the trolls, remember?”
“I’m not sure I believe that anymore.” Though as a PR policy, Kyle knew she was right.
Bella placed a hand over his forearm. His skin tingled. “Forget him, Kyle. I already have. He doesn’t matter.”
For a moment, he was caught by the softness in her gaze. The heat of anger inside him morphed into something else, and he forcefully shook it away. “Sorry. You’re right, of course. You should be focusing on training and the fight.”
I’ll handle Ryan, he promised silently.
* * *
THE REST OF the day went by in a whirl. Joel had stacked interview after interview with all the major media outlets, then Bella was invited to dinner and drinks with the head honchos at the UFF. By the time she was free of obligations, she was too tired to do anything more than fall into bed and sleep. Her plans to get in some training time and then explore the Strip had been wiped out.
Early the following morning, Bella attended a photo shoot in the official UFF headquarters training facility—an enormous fitness complex complete with a running track and Olympic-size swimming pool. Both Bella and Ayumi took separate photos against a backdrop, before posing for a few together. Ayumi didn’t smile much. She had a purposeful look about her, and whenever she met Bella’s eyes, her mouth compressed.
Kamikaze Kamino was known for her fierce determination and muscle-wrenching contortion acts, and seemed to go into every fight as though it’d be her last. Bella couldn’t imagine she’d made many friends among her sparring partners.
Joel stood by, checking his BlackBerry frequently and giving her the occasional thumbs-up. As both fighters were changing into yet another official UFF-branded outfit, Ayumi’s manager came out and loudly declared those were all the photos the fighter was willing to do today. The small entourage strode out, surrounding Ayumi, who didn’t even utter a goodbye or thank-you. The on-site marketing manager chased after them, begging for two or three more pictures.
“Huh. Talk about diva complex. Well, more camera time for you, right?” Joel said.
Inwardly, Bella sighed. She was getting a little tired of this, but she kept pushing.
A few minutes later, Hadrian made a surprise appearance, giving Bella another half hug and peck on the cheek. She wished he’d stop doing that. She’d caught the murderous look on Kyle’s face. “I wanted to check on my ladies, see how things are going,” Hadrian said, glancing around. “Where’s Ayumi?”
“She left.”
He seemed unfazed. “She probably needs her beauty sleep. But the photogs are here for another couple of hours, so make the most of it and have fun.” He winked and sauntered off, but not before saying, “I’m counting on you, Bella.”
She went to the change room for the next outfit. Taking the hanger, a sense of déjà vu struck her. The tiny boy shorts and UFF-branded bra top were the same as the ones the ring girls wore, and would barely cover her.
The UFF logo stared her in the face. “It’s not as bad as the shoelace bathing suit,” she told herself sternly. With grim determination, she tugged the outfit on.
She stared at herself in the mirror. The bra top didn’t have any padding, and it outlined the curves of her breasts perfectly. To her horror, her nipples jutted forth like frozen peas. She rubbed her bare arms and jumped around, trying to get her circulation going.
“Bella? Everything okay in there?”
That was Kyle’s voice.
“Um, could you get me a couple of Band-Aids?” she called.
“Why? Are you hurt?”
“No, but I need...something for these shoes.” She was sure the wardrobe folks would have some kind of sticker bra or something, but the instructions had been clear about not wearing a bra under the clothing so that they could get a nice, smooth line. They’d probably airbrush and edit out any imperfections.
Or maybe they wouldn’t.
“Here you go.” Kyle’s hand appeared around the edge of the curtained change room. She took the bandages and applied them quickly, smooshing her boobs until she was certain they were behaving.
Kyle’s eyes widened as she stepped out, but he didn’t say anything.
“What?” She folded her arms over her chest, checking her breasts surreptitiously. “Not a good look?”
He gestured wildly. “I thought...” He couldn’t stop staring at her midriff. The intensity of his stare was starting to null the bandages’ effectiveness.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she quipped, but didn’t feel the joke too keenly.
Kyle pulled off his zip-up hoodie and draped it around her shoulders. “You’re cold.”
The lingering body heat in the sweater wrapped around her senses. She could smell his deodorant and soap in the heavy cotton. “Is it that obvious?” she asked, cheeks
flaming. His eyes flicked to her face and back down to her chest. Sensation sparked on the tips of her breasts, and she shivered. So much for the Band-Aids.
“You know, all you have to do is tell Joel that you don’t want to do this,” he said.
She bit her lip and shook her head. “Ayumi walked out, Kyle. I can’t walk out, too.”
“It’s degrading. Remember that other photo shoot?” He squeezed her shoulder and lowered his voice. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Yeah, I do. This is business.” Ryan had wanted to sell her body, exploit her to build her career. At least here with the UFF, she was being recognized as a fighter first. That’s what she told herself, anyhow.
This was part of being a star in the big leagues. Sure, she knew some of these photos would be on the skanky side, and that she’d be judged, criticized, mocked. She’d already faced a lifetime of ridicule.
“I’m doing this, Kyle,” she said staunchly, shrugging off his hoodie. “I have to.”
He didn’t stop her. Which was for the best, really.
She got into the cage and shut the gate.
* * *
KYLE DIDN’T SEE Bella all Saturday. They’d been scheduled to train, but then Joel had dragged her away at the last minute for a television interview. She had a hair-and-makeup appointment after that to prepare herself for the charity gala, so he wouldn’t see her until that evening.
He’d spent the morning meeting with other gym managers at a UFF breakfast. They’d talked business, and had congratulated Kyle on the quickly growing number of new clients signing up at Payette’s. He didn’t feel he deserved the praise. The most popular classes were the ones Bella taught. He knew she was responsible for their membership increase, especially among female clients.
Then, when one of the managers had made a joke about selling tickets to watch Bella do jumping jacks, Kyle had nearly taken the guy’s head off, but almost immediately felt like a hypocrite. Two years ago, he would’ve been the one making that joke. And he knew he would’ve argued that his comments were meant to be more complimentary than offensive. But something had changed. Maybe he was more sensitive after all the things he’d been through.
He’d been extra protective of Bella since the photo shoot, too. The poses hadn’t been too provocative, and she’d been firm about what she would and wouldn’t do. When the photographer tried to bully her into showing more skin, Kyle had backed up Joel as the pit bull agent told the man that his client would walk if he didn’t show more respect.
Respect. That’s what this was all about. Even if a deeper feeling persisted, Kyle knew that the core of what he felt for Bella was respect.
On Jess’s insistence, he met with his sister for a quick lunch before she had to rush off to her various clients to help them prep for the gala that evening. As they sat down for sandwiches in the hotel lobby café, he realized they hadn’t shared a meal since their father’s wake.
“So what are you wearing tonight?” she asked, sipping a tall glass of water.
“I’ve got a suit.”
“Let me guess. The charcoal-gray one you wore to Dad’s funeral.”
“It’s the nicest one I own,” he groused. “And it’s practically new.”
“It’s a funeral suit. You can wear it when you go for your next job interview. Or to the wedding of a friend you don’t particularly like. But not tonight. You’re going to be with the guest of honor, after all. You could at least try to look like arm candy.”
“You know, before this fight took over her life, she was going to be my arm candy.”
“Really?” Jess arched one well-plucked eyebrow. Her lips spread into a wide smile. “So you do like her.”
He kept his face straight. “Professionally, sure.”
“Uh-huh.” Her lips curved. Kyle hated that knowing look.
Jess was probably right about his attire, though. There was something macabre about wearing a funeral suit to the gala, and it was a little too business formal.
Once he said his goodbyes to his sister, he went straight to a tuxedo rental shop inside the hotel’s vast boutique mall and within the hour had a tux ready for the evening. Maybe it was a little over-the-top, but it made him look good. And he wanted to be at his best for Bella’s sake.
He went back to his hotel room, showered and changed for the gala. Bella had said she’d call him when she was ready to leave. He checked his watch—he’d expected to hear from her by now. She must’ve run late at the interviews. He went to her hotel room three floors up and knocked. “Bella? It’s Kyle. Are you ready yet?”
A pause. “No!”
“Well, can you let me in at least? I need to use the can.”
Real classy, Peters. He was overcompensating for the tux. He tugged at his collar, pacing. His hands felt strangely empty. Maybe he should’ve brought her flowers.
He blew out a breath. He was escorting her to a UFF event, not taking her to prom.
He waited, swinging his arms restlessly, then hopped from one foot to the other to get his blood moving. If he stood outside of Bella’s room any longer, he really was going to need to use the bathroom. “Bella, the limo’s going to be here any minute. Let me in.”
The door unlocked. “Don’t laugh.”
“Why, what—” His jaw snapped shut as he took in the dress she’d squeezed into. He’d heard the term sausage casing, but she actually looked like a chain of bratwurst squeezed into a hideous peach-colored thing made of some kind of shiny material.
“Hadrian sent it over,” she moaned. “He said it was a gift from a sponsor—some big Paris fashion house. I can’t even pull the zipper all the way up, and I’m wearing two pairs of Spanx.”
No amount of shoehorning would get her into that thing, but he wasn’t about to say it out loud. Besides that, even Kyle knew the color and shape of the dress didn’t suit her. Apparently Hadrian had zero taste. “Don’t you have anything else?”
“I brought a dress with me that I’d bought on Black Friday, but I just noticed a huge stain on it. I guess that’s why it was on sale.” She chewed on her thumbnail. “I mentioned the stain to Hadrian, so he sent this thing. I can’t show up to the gala in jeans. Especially with you dressed like that.” She gave him a weak smile. “You look great, by the way.”
He was too concerned about her state to preen. “What size are you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your dimensions. Write them down for me. And your shoe size.” He pulled out his cell phone and the business card he’d tucked into his wallet.
She grabbed a notepad off the desk and scribbled some numbers down. “Who’re you calling?”
He put up a quelling hand. “Hi, Jess? It’s me. Listen, I have a big emergency....”
Within the hour, his sister swept in with an armload of dresses. With the gravitas of a seasoned referee, Jess gave Bella a judicious once-over and held out two hangers. “Pretty sure these will be the best ones, but try them all on.”
Kyle frowned. “We don’t have time. The party’s starting in fifteen minutes and the limo—”
“Oh, please. She’s the guest of honor. She can’t fly in half-dressed and looking like she actually cares about being on time. That’s the definition of fashionably late.” She beamed at Bella. “You’ve got plenty of time. Choose wisely,” she pronounced.
“Where’d you get all those dresses?” Kyle asked as Bella hurried into the bedroom.
“Borrowed them. All I had to say was, ‘I need dresses for Bella Fiore,’ and three guys appeared, like, out of nowhere. They’re all sponsors. I’m shocked they didn’t try dressing her before this.”
“Hadrian did.” He picked up the peach monstrosity and tossed it to Jess. She held it up and her eyes bulged.
“Oh, barf. The man must be blind to think this would go with her comp
lexion.”
“Yeah, well, there are a few things beyond Hadrian’s fashion sense that I have a problem with. For one, he shouldn’t be showing his preference to fighters like this,” Kyle said. “Did you know this is the UFF’s guest suite they keep on reserve here? He booked it for her and made sure she didn’t pay for it. I don’t think Kamino’s getting the same treatment.”
“I say, take the perks where you can get ’em. It’s his company and she’s going to be a star. You realize she’s going to go through a lot more than training, right? All the media stuff she’s done in the past couple of days is just the tip of the iceberg.”
Jess was right. There would undoubtedly be interest from all the major media outlets. Kyle made a mental note to talk with Joel and make sure Bella didn’t burn out. They’d already skipped too many training sessions.
Expecting a long wait, Kyle parked himself on the white leather couch and looked around the suite. Jess went to the kitchenette and started rooting through the fridge. The strip glittered below, casting everything in a rainbow of gaudy, flickering lights. His knee bounced as he waited for Bella to emerge from the bedroom.
“Nervous?” Jessica asked, helping herself to the complimentary wine.
“No.” Not for Bella. Well, maybe a little—he hated it when things didn’t go according to plan.
“Sure you’re not.” She watched him, running the edge of her wineglass against her lip. “Nice tux, by the way. I’m glad you listened...and that you trusted me enough with this to call me. You could’ve gone shopping down in the mall for a dress.”
He blinked. “That would’ve taken too long. Besides, you make your living doing this kind of thing. I trust your judgment more than mine.”
“Dad never believed I could do it. He thought I was...tacky.”
That was the least of what their father had thought of Jess, and Kyle could see she knew it, too. He wiped a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around. That I didn’t call more often.”
Jess sighed. “We have our own lives to live. I’m sorry I didn’t stay. I know Dad was hard on you.”
