by EMILIE ROSE
“No. I can’t let you forgive me that easily. I want you to know that I know what I did wrong. That I’ve been thinking a lot about...what happened to me—” he rubbed him palms over his knees, feeling the old ache creep back in “—and what happened between us. I was wrong to say the things I did.”
“I got your note.” The pause let him know she’d read it, probably more than once. And as the silence dragged on, it was as if she were acknowledging in her own taciturn way that she’d understood everything he’d meant to say, everything he’d striven to infuse in between the inadequate words and limp emotion twenty-six letters could produce.
Hope rose within him. She drew her knees up, refusing to meet his eye. “If I were in a better mood, I would say I’m sorry for calling you all those nasty things. But I don’t have the brain space to feel remorse or dwell on anything else. I can’t deal with drama right now. So I forgive you, and I hope you forgive me. Now, are you done?”
He felt a stab of pain lance through his chest. No. He wasn’t. He needed to tell her she was right—he had issues. He wanted to tell her that he was willing to work through those issues—that he’d never be able to move on until he did. He wanted to tell her that when she won that belt he would do whatever it took to make her understand that his feelings for her—
Yes, he had feelings for her. Deeper than he’d first admitted. Being in Bella’s inner sanctum now after what felt like an eternity apart from her settled something inside him. Made him feel...complete. Like this was the place he belonged. Dad would say that was just plain corny and probably would’ve smacked him in the back of the head. Nonetheless his emotions swelled, and with it, a flurry of words raced up his throat.
But he couldn’t tell her everything right now—that would be selfish of him. Fighting Kamino was the only thing Bella had room for in her head. Any distraction could mean a quick and brutal end, like what had happened in the exhibition match in New Orleans. He couldn’t risk being the cause of another humiliation for her.
And he couldn’t stand in her corner.
“Yeah. Good luck out there, Bella,” he said. “I’m glad your father and brother are here for you. You couldn’t ask for better cornermen.”
With that he left. There was nothing else Kyle could say right now—he had a whole host of issues to deal with first. He’d apologized, but that didn’t make him worthy of Bella yet.
* * *
THE MOMENT THE door closed behind Kyle, Bella slumped over, chest aching, stomach hollowed out from more than hunger. There. It’s done. Kyle had apologized, but that was it. He hadn’t even said he still wanted to be friends. He’d come here to clear his conscience and then he left.
You’re free now, a quiet, determined voice inside told her. You have the biggest fight of your life in front of you. Kyle doesn’t need to be a part of that—he never wanted to be in the first place.
If she had any water in her body, tears might have fallen freely. Instead, she felt achy all over, as if she’d taken a beating.
“Bella?” Her father stuck his head past the door. “You all right? It’s almost time.”
“Sim, Papai.”
He scowled. “Did that Kyle Peters say something? Did he hurt you?”
“No, Papai. He said nothing.” Slowly, she pushed to her feet. The rest of her life lay ahead. After tomorrow night, she’d never have to see Kyle again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
KYLE HAD BEEN to plenty of MMA fights before. He’d been a spectator, absorbing the rush of sound and heat as combatants clashed in the cage. He’d dealt with the gut-wrenching nerves that went with being a cornerman, watching his trainees from the sidelines. But he’d never felt this urgency and nauseating nervousness before, as if he were heading into a final exam for a class he’d never attended.
It was a nightmare. The roar of the 16,000-strong crowd made Kyle’s skin shiver and his ears ring. The audience wasn’t as big as some other events the UFF had hosted, but the energy of the crowd could have lit up the Vegas Strip.
And he wasn’t at Bella’s side to share it.
The announcer made the introductions as lights flashed and flared. A taiko drumbeat started, overlaid with an orchestral arrangement of a hip-hop song. Ayumi “Kamikaze” Kamino marched in with her entourage, standing a head-and-a-half below her cornermen but exuding twice their menace and determination.
Kyle’s passes gave him full access to the arena, but he’d chosen a seat in the VIP section across from Bella’s corner. It was the best seat he could get without spooking her. He wasn’t even sure he should be sitting this close.
The lights went out again. Strobes flickered and a single, piercing note rang across the stadium before it exploded in a cacophony of sound. He rose to his feet.
“In the red corner, weighing in at 145 pounds, fighting out of Brazil by way of New Orleans, Louisiana—” the announcer dragged it out “—Bel-la Fiiiiiiioooooore!”
The crowd cheered raucously as she jogged out, flanked by her father and brother. The jumbotron overhead showed her stripping down to her trunks and rash guard. She looked mean, her game face set.
After an application of Vaseline to her face and a quick check of her gloves and mouth guard, she burst into the cage and the gate slammed shut behind her. Kyle’s feet went numb as all his blood congealed.
Bella hopped from foot to foot, shaking out her limbs and stretching her neck while Ayumi eyed her from the opposite side of the cage, prowling like a caged panther.
That’s good. Conserve your energy. Limber up. It was killing him to watch her from way over here.
“This is a five-round fight. I want to see a clean match, ladies. Do you have any questions?” The ref didn’t get a response. The women were locked in a death stare match. The ref had them touch gloves, and with a definitive chop of his hand, the UFF’s first female fight began.
Kyle was half-out of his seat the entire first round. They kept the match mostly stand-up, but Bella managed to use her superior BJJ training to get in a couple of takedowns. Ayumi was slippery, though. She had a strong guard, and was quickly adapting to Bella’s preferred methods of attack.
In the second round, Ayumi got two strong blows in, one to Bella’s thigh and the other to her chin. A hit like that could have ended the fight, but Bella only staggered back, then shook it off and launched herself at her opponent, delivering a few solid body blows. The audience hooted its approval.
By the third round, it was obvious the two were getting tired of dancing. So was the crowd. A stand-up game was great, but unless some major skills were displayed, it hardly mattered.
“C’mon! Finish her!” Kyle heard someone yell.
Recklessly, Bella rushed at Ayumi with a series of punches, hooking one arm around her neck, and the other over the elbow. In one swift move, she dragged her opponent to the ground.
The crowd howled as the two women scrambled for dominance. Bella almost had Ayumi in an arm bar, twisting her wrist in a painful-looking hold. Any normal human would have tapped out, and the audience cringed and moaned at the way Ayumi’s shoulder and elbow torqued in horrific braids of muscle.
But Kamikaze Kamino hadn’t earned her nickname for no reason. Kyle watched in morbid fascination as she lifted her hips, twisted her torso up and flipped over.
Bella’s grip slipped. Ayumi mounted, straddling Bella’s chest, and she began a brutal barrage of hits to the side of her face.
All Kyle could see was blood. Bella’s blood. The rushing sound in his ears melded with the roar of the crowd. He stuffed down the urge to scream at the ref to stop the fight.
Ayumi might have ended the match given four more seconds, but then the horn sounded and she hopped off as Bella struggled to her feet. Kyle rushed toward the red corner, flashing his badge and pushing through the forest of shoulders.
Sour sweat hit his no
strils—not Bella’s, but everyone else’s. She sat on a low stool, breathing deeply, the back of her head resting against the chain link cage. Marco bathed her brow with an ice bag, saying something in Portuguese to her.
Blood flowed from her nose and from a huge gash in her forehead. Her eye was swollen and darkening, the goose egg growing larger by the second. The cutman stanched the blood, fingers flying as he applied his various remedies, pressing an end-swell that looked like a big metal stamp against the lump above her eye while pinching a cotton swab in her nostril.
Hanging over the edge of the cage, Carlos fanned her, his face pinched with worry. Bella turned her head side to side, winking and squinting out of her swollen eye.
The cutman shone a light into her face. “Can you see that, honey?”
“Don’t call me honey.” She spit a wad of blood into the bucket held out for her and rinsed her mouth. “I can see fine.”
Marco frowned. “Bella, don’t lie. I can’t even see your pupil. If the swelling doesn’t stop or gets worse, you could permanently damage your vision.”
“It’s not worth it, Bella,” Carlos urged above her. She craned her neck up. “You’re risking your whole future.”
Her gaze seemed hazy, but then it slid toward Kyle. She smiled past her split, bloodied lip. “You here to give me pointers?”
“I’m here to give you my support.” He gripped the vinyl-coated chain link, trying to telegraph his feelings past the barrier. “I believe in you, Bella. This is your fight, your choice. And no matter what happens, I want you to know...” I love you. “I’m here for you. Right here.”
A clarity entered her previously clouded eyes, and she tossed her head to one side and chuckled. “You had to say that now when I don’t have a lick of makeup on, huh?”
“Ten seconds!” the official shouted.
“This is your fight. Your life. Your choice.”
She took a deep breath. “I’m good. I’ll fight.”
In a rush, everyone cleared the cage. Kyle took his place in Bella’s corner with her family. The bell rang and the fourth round began.
Carlos grabbed his wrist. “If she gets hurt—”
“Of course she’ll get hurt,” Kyle said, shaking him off. “But she’ll pick herself back up. She made this choice for herself. We never had a say in it.” He met the senior Fiore’s eye and snatched the white towel out of the man’s hand. “And we’re not going to give up on her.”
Marco glowered. “If you had any feelings for her, you’d be protecting her. That’s your job. Her career could end tonight if she gets another blow to the head.”
Of course, they didn’t get that it would end no matter how she lost, whether they threw in the towel or not. But he couldn’t share that information with them. “I believe in her,” he said, and meant it.
Ayumi bounced around the cage. She knew like everyone else that Bella’s right eye was her weakest point now, and that a few taps to the head would likely be her downfall. Bella was being careful, not getting too close.
You can do this, Bella. He was afraid to shout his support and distract her.
And showing up ringside and practically telling her you love her in the middle of a fight isn’t distracting? His father’s voice rang loudly in the back of his mind. You always were selfish.
“I’m doing this for her.”
“I don’t see you doing anything,” Marco muttered. “What kind of coach are you?”
Ayumi feinted, trying to scare Bella into leaving an opening. One minute into the round and the crowd started booing. No one had landed a single blow.
Unable to hold it in any longer, Kyle banged his fist on the edge of the mat. “C’mon, Bella!” he shouted. “Surprise her!”
He thought he saw the twitch of her cheek, but it was hard to say. She shifted her footing and got into a staggered stance. It must have confused everyone because in that instant, Ayumi thought she had her. The GRRL Fight champion went for a high kick—
Bella ducked and lunged, grabbed her in a high single leg takedown, cut the corner and slammed Ayumi onto her side. She went for a full-frontal mount and just as Kamikaze Kamino had, began whaling on her face, both fists swinging.
The crowd went nuts. Three seconds of that and the ref called it. Ayumi lay on the mat, dazed, as Bella sprang to her feet and whooped.
Bella Fiore had won the first ever women’s UFF championship belt.
* * *
EVERYTHING AFTER THE match with Ayumi went by in a daze, and it wasn’t because of the hits Bella had taken. She’d remembered the enormous belt being wrapped around her waist, thanking her trainers, her family, the UFF and especially her opponent. Ayumi was fine. She’d hugged her tight in the cage after she’d gotten to her feet, thanking her for a good fight.
The press conference immediately following was a little harder to remember. Questions about strategy, training—they were all answered in much the same way.
“Kyle Peters and the crew at Payette’s in New Orleans were a huge help to me. My father and brother and my family’s support has been tremendous. I can’t think of a better, stronger team than family and friends.”
Hadrian Blackwell had seemed very pleased by her statement. That night, he declared he’d be signing ten more female fighters. The women’s featherweight division would be well stocked for the next year or two. It meant Bella would be defending her title sooner than she thought.
After a visit with the physician, she went to the locker room where Carlos and Marco awaited her with champagne. As they were toasting her success, Carlos’s cell phone rang and he answered. His expression firmed and he held the phone out. “Fulvio wants to talk to you.”
A dark cloud obscured her victory for a moment. Was her grandfather going to yell at her some more? Tell her he was disowning her for good? “Avô,” she greeted neutrally, breathing deep.
“I watched your fight, Bella.” She waited for his verdict, but he seemed to be expecting her to say something in return.
“Thank you for watching.” It was all she could think to say. A mix of sadness and anger swirled through her. Her grandfather had taught her everything about the sport. He’d taught her how to be passionate about the family business. He should have been in her corner tonight, but some out-of-date, misogynistic, old-world ideals had them barely on speaking terms.
“I think you will have a lot of bruises,” he said.
Was that supposed to be a criticism of her game? “They’ll heal.”
“Yes. I suppose they will.” He gave a long sigh. “This is what you want, then? To fight?”
“I didn’t spend half my life learning from you so I could stand by and make babies and cook.”
“I thought you’d get tired of it eventually. I thought Antonio would settle you down.”
“He didn’t.” She didn’t feel the usual stab of hurt at the mention of Antonio. She didn’t feel anything except a muted wistfulness. Apparently she was still cruising on adrenaline and euphoria. She’d achieved her dream. She’d fought for the UFF. She was a champion, and she had this man to thank. Though he didn’t approve, he had been the reason she’d come to the sport in the first place. She softened her voice. “This is my life, Avô Fulvio. I know you don’t approve. That you’ll never forgive me.”
“Forgive you? Querida, why would you say that? Of course I forgive you. I don’t approve, it’s true, but only because this is a hard life, and hard on the body. When you get to my age...” He made a gruff sound. “I have been hard on you, I think. Too hard. But I love you, Bella. You know that.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I love you, too.”
“Come home,” he said. “We will not talk about this anymore. You are too much like me—too bullheaded to change your mind. But we will talk. I cannot decide your life for you, but I have some things I want you t
o consider for the future....”
* * *
THE UFF AFTER-PARTY was loud and filled with alcohol-soaked partygoers. Marco and her father stayed with her, intent on keeping her from overindulging. There was no way she could have, anyway—she was way too tired. All she wanted was to soak in a hot tub and then sleep for a week.
But she had social obligations and had to make an appearance at the party. The rest of her career would be like this, she realized.
It was nearly three in the morning by the time she headed back to her hotel room, but Bella had yet to see Kyle and thank him. He’d disappeared after the post-fight interview. It wasn’t until late the following morning that she finally managed to reach him on his cell phone.
“I’m at the airport,” he told her over the buzz of flight announcements. “I have to get back to New Orleans. Hadrian asked me to get the place ready for a press event. He sprang it on me last night as we were leaving the cage.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry. I’d planned to be with you to celebrate, but things got kind of crazy.”
“Yeah.” She couldn’t swallow past her disappointment. Tightly, she said, “I wanted to...thank you. For everything.”
“Will you be coming back to New Orleans?”
She’d promised to stay until April, but after all that had happened between them, listening to her grandfather’s proposal and then speaking with Hadrian about her future with the UFF, she wasn’t sure she could. She had options, but only one choice really stood out for her.
She cleared the frog in her throat. “My grandfather wants me to return to Brazil and help with the new studio he’s opening.”
“Wow. That’s great.”
Was that all he had to say? Maybe she’d only imagined his cage-side confession of love. She had been beat around the head, after all. Bella clutched her pullover’s collar and gave a forced chuckle. “Well, it’s not the all-women’s MMA gym I want to build, but it’ll give me an idea of how to start.”
“That’s good. Listen, my flight is being called. I have to go. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” He hung up.
