by Ellie Danes
“You're beautiful.” I placed a soft kiss on the side of her face.
“You already got in my pants, you don't have to be so sweet. Besides, the ugly warts will pop up eventually.” She giggled as she turned in my arms and rubbed her nose against mine.
“You think that’s sweet? It's just the beginning.” I pulled her close to me and took in her scent.
“Did you just smell me?” She laughed again.
“Maybe,” I teased. “I wanna remember everything about you.”
“You going somewhere?” She sat up and looked down at me. “You said you...”
I put my finger over her mouth.
“I’m not going anywhere now. I have to leave tomorrow. I have a fight in three weeks, and I have got to get it together.” I smiled up at her. The look on her face was still a little uncertain. “I will be training hard, but I won't ignore you. You are a part of this, and I want you with me at my next fight.” I reached for her hand and kissed her fingertips.
“I can't go to Vegas,” she said and then looked away.
“Who said anything about Vegas?” I smiled and placed my lips to her palm. “I'll be here in New York. I want you with me, I need you there cheering me on.”
“You want me to watch you fight? I don't think I can do that.” She pulled back and looked down at me. She reached and pulled the sheet up, covering herself.
“Why not?” I asked, already anticipating the answer.
“I don't…” she trailed off. “If something happened, I don't know what I would do. What if you get really hurt? I’m not so sure I can watch someone hurting you.” Tears filled her eyes, and it made me smile.
“Why are you smiling at me,” she said, frowning. “The thought of you getting hurt should not make you smile.”
“I'm not gonna get hurt.” I reached for the back of her head and pulled her mouth to mine. “I won’t do that to you.”
Chapter Sixteen
Tristan
A few weeks before the fight of his damn life and I can't get the asshole on the phone. His trainer isn't talking, his dad doesn't know where he is. It really sucks when you put this much time and effort into a person who doesn't give you enough respect to at least acknowledge you.
“Have you heard from him, yet?” Amy asked from the other room.
I shook my head, shoving my fingers through my hair. “I may have misjudged this one.”
Amy’s phone went off, and I didn’t think much about it until I looked up and saw her face.
“What?” I ask as I stand and go toward her.
“Um, Diaz just signed a contract with Performance Sportswear.”
“What?” I shouted. Diaz, the guy who wouldn’t talk to me at the fight in Vegas. His manager had totally blown us off.
She jerked at the volume of my voice. “It just says that his manager decided that he was going to sign on his own. Jessica wanted me to know and not find out through the grapevine.”
“I can't believe that asshole. He has our contract in hand. I bet they low-balled him and he took it.”
“Probably, but let's not worry about him right now. There are enough other things going on here.” She gave me a quick kiss and returned to her desk.
Our relationship had been far from normal, but maybe that's why it seemed to work. Once I realized that she was who I wanted, I kept my eyes on the prize. It just seemed like something was always in the way of us having a normal life. Between taking care of her sister and my niece, I wasn’t sure our lives would ever be normal. Not to mention my career was always going to get in the way. That was the nature of this business, especially if I wanted to be the best in the industry. That meant beating 360 and Liam. I wanted that more than anything and would have plowed through anyone and anybody to get there, until Amy.
Even with all the drama surrounding us, she still kept a professional demeanor at the office. She was capable and responsible. Maybe it was age, or maybe it was the fact that she’d had to take on so much responsibility at such a young age when her parents died. I hadn’t figured it out yet, but I had figured out the woman was amazing.
The thing about Amy was even though she’d had to struggle to get to where she was, she never let anything get in the way of her work. I knew that her sister’s life was completely dependent on her—every spare penny went to pay for her sister’s boarding school. I also knew that between caring for my niece and the time and money she spent on her sister, our relationship often took a back burner. The stresses of trying to work as much as possible to make sure her sister’s tuition was paid often kept her at work all hours of the night. I tried my best to not overwork her, but every time I turned around, she was going over another contract, fixing things that really should have fallen to me, and making sure every one of our clients was taken care of.
“You need to check out,” I said as I leaned out of my office door and looked at her.
“I will in about an hour. I have to—”
“Amy. No. I don’t want to hear it. Go home, relax,” I said. I walked toward her desk and pulled the paper out from under her pen when she kept writing.
“Tristan, I've got to get this done tonight. You see that stack?” She pointed to the corner of her desk. I followed her finger and then looked back at her. I suddenly thought that maybe my assistant needed an assistant or maybe my guys needed to do a little more of their own work.
“I see it, but I also see the dark rings under those beautiful eyes of yours, and I think you need some rest. Actually, here.” I reached into my pocket and handed her the company credit card. “Go to Rock Salt Spa and get the works. Facial, massage, waxed, whatever you want. Spend the whole day.”
“I have way too much to do. I can't.” She looked back down, never reaching for my card. Adrienne, my previous assistant, would have grabbed the card and run for the door.
“You do realize that I am your boss and I am telling you to get the hell out of this office and take a day off.”
“I can't take a day off. I have to use those to hang out with my sister during her school breaks, and I don't have a lot of extras.” She stood, her hands on her hips, and cocked her head to the side. Blood rushed to my groin as I watched her.
“This is a paid day,” I said, “and it isn't up for discussion. You will go, and you will enjoy yourself. There isn't anything in this office that I cannot handle myself. And since we’re talking about it, I’m changing some things about your employment.”
“Tristan, please.” Her lip quivered.
Surely she didn’t think I was going to fire her. Little did she know, this office couldn’t run without her. I knew it, and everyone in the office knew it. I know some people believe everyone is replaceable, but Amy wasn't. There wasn't another person on the planet that could do her job and put up with me the way she could.
“From now on, you will have twenty-four days of vacation a year, paid. You will also be getting a certain percentage of every account you work on. It won't be much, but look at it like small bonuses. I want you to come to work and not stress about how many hours you have to put in and how hard you have to work. You are my most important asset, and it's time you are treated that way. You will take at least one Friday off a month to go see your sister.”
“Tristan, I don't want special treatment, because, you know.”
“There is nothing special about my treatment of you. I used to do the same things for Adrienne all the time. How easily you forget.”
I watched her as she thought about what I said. She had to know about all the times I had left flowers or tickets for Adrienne. I even sent Adrienne and her family to Disney World. Adrienne had talked about that trip for months, and Amy was here at the time, I thought.
“Please, Amy, take some time and relax. Don't worry about the office. Don't worry about what has to be done tomorrow. The only thing you need to worry about tomorrow is you. It's my fault for not paying attention to how hard you’ve been working. So, please do this for me, okay?”
&n
bsp; Tears brimmed as she stood and came around the desk. I was glad it was after eight on a Wednesday night. She shifted up on her tiptoes and kissed the corner of my mouth.
“Thank you.” She smiled as she turned to walk back to her desk. “Let me finish up this paperwork, and then I’ll be on my way.”
I laid the credit card on her desk and tapped it with my finger before I walked back to my office. I immediately sent an email to Sheila at Rock Salt and told her to give Amy the works and to bill me if Amy tried to pay with anything other than my company card.
Fifteen minutes later, Amy strolled into my office, gave me a kiss, and headed home like she should have done hours earlier.
* * * * *
“Have you seen this?” Bruce asked as he walked into my office the next day. I looked up, taken slightly off guard. It was a split-second reaction since Amy had the day off. Usually, she’d have buzzed me to let me know he needed to see me.
“Yeah, I can't believe that 360 would do that, but then again, I can.” I looked over the article that Bruce handed me, written from an inside view of a ‘get to know us’ party put on by Liam Rose, my competitor at 360.
“I would think when you’re spending this much money that these athletes would start to wonder where the money is coming from,” I said. “I’m all about spending on what’s necessary to get someone signed and celebrating that with our annual party, but to have several blowout parties like that? Too much risk of something going wrong and getting blamed for it.”
“You know they sent someone in to talk to that running back from Miami,” Bruce announced and shook his head. “Why the hell would they risk it?”
“I don't know, but you can bet if we know about it, then others do, too. Someone is going to take the fall for that, and I guarantee it won't be Liam.”
“You can bet your white ass it won't be him,” Bruce said with a laugh. “So, where do we stand on Rollins? Any word yet?” Bruce asked.
I sighed heavily and leaned back in my chair. Ryder Rollins. The man was going places. I just wished he’d take his cell phone with him when he did.
“That’s about the same,” I said. “I did talk to his dad. He assures me everything is on schedule.”
We chatted a little more about Ryder and details about the fight lined up. Ryder had primarily been a Vegas fighter, but I wanted him to fight at the Garden. He needed a wider fan base, and fighting at Madison Square Garden would increase our chances of getting Pay-per-view involved, and that would be even more money. And more money meant more exposure.
It was a delicious cycle of money, promotions, and exposure.
Chapter Seventeen
Zoey
We made our way to a swanky restaurant in Greenwich Village. I never realized there were so many fans of MMA. I had thought the people earlier today had been excited to see Ryder, but the women asking for pictures and hanging all over him, passing him their numbers and him pocketing them, definitely rubbed me the wrong way. I had a jealous streak, but to see him do it right in front of my face made me uncomfortable. All the things he had said earlier in the day seemed less and less important.
I stood off to the side, thinking of all the ways I had been the brunt of jokes at the office after my ex had played me. The girl he slept with had made it known that I was playing second fiddle to her. I wasn't going to be played as a fool again. I knew Ryder had to act a part, and I hoped that was all it was, but with each girl, I became less and less sure of myself.
A raven-haired woman with breasts as round as balloons, touched his arm and smiled big enough to cause dimples on each of her cheeks. He said something, and she laughed, throwing her head back and thrusting out her chest.
His low chuckle was like a knife to my heart.
“Here’s my number,” she said, her voice sultry. She passed him a slip of paper, then strutted down the sidewalk, joining a group of her waiting friends.
As Ryder tucked her number into his pants pocket, I turned and walked away. He walked quickly and caught up with me. Not that it mattered, because I was already angry at the show he’s put on.
“Wait, what’s wrong?” he asked as he caught up with me.
“You enjoy yourself?” I said, my voice bitter.
He looked a little shocked. “They’re my fans. You didn't mind earlier.”
“The fans earlier were little kids and grown men—not women wearing hardly any clothes. How many numbers do you have in your pocket?” I refused to meet his gaze—I was afraid he’d see the rage in my eyes.
“Wait, you think I'm gonna call them?”
“I don't know, are you?” I sounded like a petulant child, but I couldn’t care about that. All that mattered was that I wouldn’t repeat what had happened with my Peter, my asshole ex. I refused to be cheated on, ever again.
“Are you serious right now?” He stepped in front of me and stopped me in my tracks.
“Yes.” I looked up and gave him the hardest glare I could muster. Everything we had accomplished over the last few hours was on the verge of being washed away.
I maneuvered around him and picked up my pace, trying to make it back to my place before I lost it. Tears were burning behind my eyelids, but I wouldn't let them fall. He’d let those women flirt with him and come onto him while I had to stand there and watch. I wouldn't let him see me cry.
“Zoey, that isn't what that's about,” he called from behind me. “I don't need those women. I have you.”
“Whatever, Ryder.” I turned around and let him see the hurt and rage that I knew was written all over my face. “This is exactly what I thought would happen. You talk about your distractions, and I just accept that the distractions won't affect me. I need you to leave. I have to figure all of this out, without you here.”
He looked away and then huffed out a big breath. “I don't know why I even wasted my time trying to make you believe something that you had already made up your mind would be a problem. Serves me right.”
* * * * *
I stripped my clothes off the moment I got home and headed right for the shower. I knew my reaction to Ryder’s fans was childish and stupid, but at the same time, I couldn’t stop myself from feeling this way. I tried to tell myself that Ryder wasn’t the man who had screwed me over, but that didn’t seem to matter.
What mattered was that I wasn't sure if I could handle all of the attention. Not just the attention on us, but the attention he would get. The women throwing themselves at him. I’d have to trust that he wouldn't act on that when I wasn't around. The last thing I wanted was to be the woman who woke up to pictures of her boyfriend on the front page with another woman on his arm, or in a dark corner with his tongue down some slut’s throat. I was so frustrated, I needed to let it out. So, I did. I yelled, as loud as I could.
“Hello?” Annette’s voice echoed as she cracked the bathroom door.
“Yeah,” I called back.
“What the hell is wrong?” she asked as she pulled the curtain back.
“Jesus, could you wait until I’m out of the shower?” I grabbed the curtain to cover myself.
“No, this is what best friends do.” She grinned at me. “Seriously, though. I heard you shouting and the last time that happened was when that dickhead screwed you over.”
I looked at her for a second, trying to fight it. It didn’t last. “You should have seen him,” I said, my voice breaking.
She reached over and turned the water off, then handed me a towel. I wrapped it around my body and stepped out of the shower.
“Who? Ryder?” she asked.
“Yeah. We had a great day and then when we went out to dinner he acted like a complete douche. These women came from every direction, rubbing all over him and giving him their numbers. He put them in his pocket!” I said angrily.
“So?” she asked.
“So, he kept their numbers for later.”
“Did you ask him what he was going to do with them?” Annette questioned me.
“No, but why
would he put them in his pocket?”
“Have you ever thought about the fact that his job is fan-driven? How would it make him look if he blew off every person who walked up to him? Would he still have fans or sell tickets to his fights? Could you imagine what would happen to his image if the tabloids ran with it? I mean, I get it, don't get me wrong, but he is an actor of sorts. He has an image, and you have to conform to that, at least a little. Trust is a fickle beast and you either trust him, or you don't.”
“I thought I did.” I wrung my hands in my lap.
“Did he actually give you any reason to not trust him?”
“No, not really, but I don't want to wait until he does.” I looked up at her.
She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest.
“You need to give it a week or so and really think about what you want. I hate you were hurt and that your trust was broken, but let's be honest—Ryder isn't that dickhead, and he really hasn't given you any reason to think he would treat you that way.” She kneeled down in front of me. “I love you, my beautiful friend, and I want what’s best for you, so I need you to really dig deep and figure this out before it's too late.”
She kissed my forehead before she stood and pulled the door shut behind her.
I knew she was right, but I didn't want to admit to myself that my own insecurities had pushed Ryder away.
Chapter Eighteen
Ryder
Back in at the gym in Connecticut, I tried to get back into my training.
I had no idea what had happened between me and Zoey last weekend, but I couldn't let this shit continue to mess up everything I had worked so hard to achieve. I had to get my training back on point. So, I threw myself into my workouts and made a few appearances that Tristan had set up. At least my relationship with him was easy to predict. It everything I needed it to be, and it was obvious that Tristan was working hard for me.
“Ryder,” someone said from across the gym.
I looked over my shoulder as Tristan moved across the floor.
