Claiming The Prize

by Nadja Notariani

  Distracting her from her thoughts, Yves pointed out Danny and Iris McGovern. Smiling, she waved, and Iris hurried to hug her kindly.

  “You look lovely, Grace. How are you? I haven't seen you since you married.”

  “Thank you, Iris,” she said sweetly. “Things are wonderful.”

  “Congratulations!” Mac boomed. “Even if it is long overdue! That husband of yours sure put on a show tonight.”

  Jostled in his bear hug, Grace laughed, and her timid thoughts vanished among friends.

  “So, Grace, when will we see Drago make his move to team Anto-Engage? The industry is abuzz with rumor.”

  “That's a question you'll have to ask Mr. Zadrovec!” she teased evasively.

  “Enough of this talk of business,” Iris interjected. “Let's see your ring, Grace.” Holding Grace's hand she cooed, “Stunning! Just stunning!”

  Iris was interested in learning the sights she'd seen in Bratislava, and the women chatted amiably. Beth and Stephen DuFois joined them, causing Grace to answer again the questions all newlyweds endured, but she didn't mind. As the ladies were about to seek out a table, Carson and Savannah came over to the group.

  “Khaler,” DuFois said stiffly, offering his hand. “Scouting the Brit tonight?”

  “Yeah, I'll fight him next, so I wanted to see how Zadrovec fared against him.”

  Grace was shocked at the sight of Carson and his fiancee. His complexion was pasty, and he had lost weight. But what wrenched her heart was the rounded belly of the obviously expectant Savannah. Dressed in a gorgeous, sky-blue, satin dress, she should have looked radiant, but her bony shoulders and glossy eyes left only a shadow of the beautiful young woman she had been. Grace could not force her lips to speak, so overwhelming were the emotions raging within her.

  Carson's eyes were too wide, and they shifted unnaturally as they lit on Grace's face.

  “Hello there, Mrs. Zadrovec,” Carson greeted coolly.

  Pulling Savannah closer, he rubbed her protruding abdomen.

  “Carson Jr. should arrive in June. I'd say congratulations are in order, wouldn't you?”

  He laughed too loudly for comfort.

  Grace collected herself quickly, replying, “Yes, of course. Congratulations.”

  An awkward pause followed before an unaware Carson spotted Antonio Paolo's group.

  “Ah! There's our gang. See you later, Mac, Stephen.”

  “Take care of yourself, Carson,” the older man replied.

  When they were out of earshot, Mac said, ”It's a shame, that guy. Had the world before him, he did. I'll be surprised if he makes his fight with Mainn.”

  DuFois responded in turn, “Khaler's done. I hear Paolo's dropping him. Can't say as I blame him.”

  Grace's cheeks burned with humiliation. Fighting back tears that threatened to spill, she willed her mind and body to hide her aching heart.

  “Are you all right, Grace?” Beth asked.

  “Yes, I'm fine.”

  Misunderstanding the deeper source of Grace's pain, Beth added, “I know it's upsetting. That woman is obviously on drugs. And that poor child! What kind of life is it being born into?”

  Nodding in agreement, relieved that no one knew of her secret torment, Grace regained her composure as the group transitioned to more pleasant conversation. Drago and Guy had finally made their way through the sea of well wishers, joining the group to congratulatory praise.

  The moment his eyes found his wife, he sensed something was wrong.

  Turning away from Drago, Grace let the tears seep from her eyes. Six months. She had been his wife for six months. Her husband made love to her almost daily, but still she did not carry their child. Each month, she waited. She hoped. But even now, her body showed its unwillingness to conceive. Her heart ached over her empty womb. Her arms longed to welcome her own child, but with every successive month that her body failed her – failed her husband – her fears mounted that she would never have children.

  The image of Savannah, heavy with a child even as she poisoned herself with her toxic habit would not leave her in peace.

  Why, Lord? Forgive me for questioning you, Father, but why?

  Chapter 13

  Leaving her father had been difficult, but Grace was glad to be home again.

  Home. When had the transfer in her mind happened? When had this foreign land become her idea of home?

  Here she could pour herself into caring for her husband and home, into Drago's training, into her work in the gym. Tonight she would speak with Drago about beginning a self-defense class for women in the gym after his next fight eased their schedule. After her episode in Las Vegas, Grace had put her hopes in God's hands, determining to go about the work He gave her with thankfulness.

  Ilija and Dubravko had welcomed their daughter, Svetlana, the night of Drago's fight in Vegas, and while a small sadness touched her, she could be nothing but happy for them.

  Drago worked furiously behind her, the heavy slap of his skin connecting with the red leather of the bag alternating with the thud of his body against the mat. The rhythm of sounds wove a familiar cadence throughout the gym. Grace stretched her body after a short walk and jog on the treadmill in preparation for her jujitsu session with a pair of novice trainees.

  Zandrew and Pyetr were newer additions to Spar-Slava, having trained only a year with Drago's team. Mostly Maui Thai kick-boxers, they needed a great deal of work yet on submission and ground game. Both had wrestled, a necessary skill in the MMA world, but the explosiveness of that skill set had to be tempered within the art of jujitsu. Working into correct position for a submission took patience and precision, skills her students had yet to master. When they trotted in for the hour and a half long session, Grace instructed them to warm up for ten minutes and stretch one another. Before they finished, Drago appeared with Gabriel, Frentz, and Josip.

  The one stipulation Drago had placed on Grace's work in the gym was that she grapple only with him.

  I will watch no man touch you as I do, milovany.

  The words still echoed in her ears seductively.

  She could have felt upset, taken it as a sign of mistrust, but Grace knew better. Her husband's possessive nature over her was borne out of protectiveness. And she had no desire to be handled by any other after knowing Drago's touch.

  Demonstrating the moves to be practiced, Grace pulled Drago into her guard, giving step by step instructions for each shift of hip and roll of wrist before moving to observe their technique. Over and again, the young men repeated the process under her watchful eye, taking her critique and praise alike. Once satisfied that the move was fixed in their minds, live grappling began. Gabriel and Frentz worked in and out of the five minute periods with the beginners while Grace and Josip took notes on each man. Drago observed the pair-ups, occasionally leaning in to murmur a comment into Grace's ear.

  At the hour mark, the group rested for a few minutes and drank before drilling again for the remainder of the time. Grace could not compete with Drago's strength, so he held back, giving her the intense match she craved. Even with his strength and size advantage, he practiced caution, evading her attempts to lock her strong legs around his arm or neck. Pushing hard through the last minute, Grace fell back onto the mat breathing heavily but wearing a smile.

  “That's it for today fellows!” she laughed.

  “Zbohom, pozri Vás vo štvrtok, Goodbye, see you Thursday,” the pair announced cheerfully after gathering their belongings.

  Josip continued to make notes in his folder, and Frentz and Gabriel headed to the second floor locker to shower.

  Clasping Grace's calf, Drago began the post workout stretching. With her knee bent, he pressed slowly, bringing her thigh to rest against her chest and rolled her hip out and back again. Her back resting firmly on the mat while he knelt between her legs brought the blush to his wife's cheeks that Drago adored. Carefully, he palmed her calf again and straightened her leg, leaning his weight tentatively on the back of her ex
tended leg to effect a deep stretch. Turning his cheek inward and smiling devilishly, he nipped the inside of her thigh through the leggings she wore.

  “Drago!” she chided in a hushed whisper, “Josip is still in here.”

  He ran his hand over the length of her leg.

  “I'll throw him out,” he retorted in mock seriousness before releasing her leg only to begin the intimate process on the other.

  “Don't you need to stretch yourself?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Did it before, milovnik. Nie, there is no escape for you,” he chuckled.

  Josip's throat clearing disrupted Drago's plans. Never looking at the man, Drago continued the stretch, but with a more clinical intent.

  “What is it?”

  “I'd like to talk with you about something. Perhaps it will be better if we speak in your office.”

  The man's discomfort was plainly heard in his voice, and both Drago and Grace turned their heads to look at him. Whether Drago didn't notice or didn't care, Grace knew not, but his displeasure was instant.

  “Whatever you need to speak to me, you can speak it in front of my wife,” came the sharp reply.

  “I meant no disrespect, Drago. I only...”

  Josip hemmed around the topic, but Drago gave not one centimeter.

  “Anika is pregnant, Drago! I don't know what to do!” he forced out in a rapid sentence.

  Drago exhaled and laughed.

  “You're about to be married in a few weeks, Josip, Ano?”

  “Yes, but...”

  “Then you celebrate, Josip! You celebrate!”

  Turning back to smile at Grace, he saw her pained expression. She covered it quickly, but not before his eyes had seen beneath the veil of the smile she now wore. Pulling her to her feet, he circled his fingers over the small of her back in a comforting touch.

  “You don't understand!” Josip's voice cracked with emotion. “Anika doesn't want the baby.”

  Under Drago's hand, Grace went rigid, a small sound escaping her throat involuntarily. Drago instinctively pulled her into his side, but she turned away.

  “I think I'll go upstairs and let you two talk.”

  Making her way toward the stairway as quickly as she could without running like a fool, Grace fought to see through the tears blurring her vision.

  She had to get away before she screamed. Or cursed.

  But before she had ascended the first step, Drago caught her from behind, his hands covering her shoulders.

  “Som tu, I am here.”

  “Let me go up, Drago. Prosim! Please,” she choked out.

  “I will not leave you, moja žena.”

  Scooping her into his arms, he carried her upstairs.

  “Josip needs you,” came her hushed protest, even as she clung to his chest.

  “Josip is not my first concern, Grace. I will speak with him later.”

  Settling her on the sofa in the privacy of their home, Drago knelt between her legs and took her face in his hands.

  “Tell me what is wrong, milovany.”

  His dark eyes searched hers, his thumbs wiping the tears from her cheeks as he waited.

  Exhaling, Grace shakily began.

  “I wish and pray everyday that we will have a child. Savannah poisons her body, yet she is blessed with a baby. Anika is pregnant, but she doesn't want to be. I don't understand!”

  “Grace,” he soothed, folding her into his chest. “God will bless us with a child in His time. I prayed that He would give us a year or two before we conceived. Forgive me, milovnik. I only wanted you to myself for a time.”

  Smoothing over her hair, he held her firmly against his body.

  “But we haven't done anything to prevent a child,” she countered.

  Her brown eyes pleaded for reassurance.

  “This is true, Gracie. We do not try to prevent your becoming pregnant,” he said, smiling at her. “But I believe that God is merely giving us time to grow together as husband and wife.”

  Melting against his form she said softly, “Please be right, Drago.”

  “Don't worry, moja žena,” he assured. “We will have a child. But you must not worry over it. It will only make it less likely to happen.”

  Safely within his embrace she answered, “I'll try.”

  Drago drew her a bath. While she soaked in the calming warmth of the tub, he returned to Josip after a quick shower in the locker.

  What could he say to his friend?

  He had warned the man against getting involved with Anika. The woman was a viper. But one look had shown him that Josip was defenseless against her beauty and her charms. Now his friend suffered, and nothing he could say or do would change that. The thought of his wife disdaining their child, his seed, made his gut clench.

  Thank you, God, for sending Grace to me, he offered silently.

  He met his friend. Before any words, they clasped their massive arms around one another in friendship. Josip wept.

  * * *

  Hours later, Drago joined his wife in their bed. The sight of her, clad in her honey colored nightgown seized his heart, and when she looked up at him in the soft lamplight, he saw the question in her eyes, the fear that he thought her silly or selfish for her tearful confession.

  He had her in his arms immediately, murmuring against her lips as he kissed her, answering her unspoken questions.

  “You need never hide your heart from me, milovany.”

  He encircled her waist, firmly caressing up her sides as his mouth covered hers. Insistent, yet slow, he drank in her sweetness, not with demanding passion, but with tenderhearted care.

  She held his biceps in her tiny grasp.

  “I was afraid you were disappointed with me. You have so much pressure to train right now, and instead of being strong, I added to it. I didn't want to let you down,” she admitted meekly.

  “I know, Grace. But it is not so. I am your husband – a husband who wants you to turn to him with everything.”

  Drago regarded her seriously.

  “I train because I love it, because I want to do it. Your support means the world to me, but never forget that you mean more than any training or victory.”

  He kissed her softly.

  “You will never disappoint me by trusting me.”

  She nodded under his gaze.

  Cupping her face, he renewed their kiss. He never wanted her to doubt his love or withhold her cares from him. Treasuring the woman who put him before herself, he kissed her lovingly, knowing he was a blessed man.

  Chapter 14

  Successively, Drago's opponents fell before him. Antoine Brooks tapped out in the second round, choked in a guillotine. Jake Warwick, a heavy handed striker, had lasted into the third round before collapsing under Drago's blows. Rutger B?nn never made it out of the first round, adding to the infamy of Drago's legs. The pace had been grueling – three fights in a nine month window. But five consecutive victories had earned Drago a new contract and a match up with Elian Souva. Souva was the only thing that now stood between him and a title fight with Dean Murdoch.

  Elian, he knew, wanted his own shot at the title badly. They had met after Drago defeated Mainn in Las Vegas and had instantly hit it off. Souva would give no quarter, and Drago respected that immensely. Quite possibly the best grappler in their division, Elian Souva would try his abilities beyond anyone else he had encountered. In fact, Drago's opinion was that Souva was a greater threat to him than the current champ, Murdoch. His wife agreed.

  Letting him know that she supported him no matter what his decision, Grace made it clear that she felt it was time to return to First Strike, team Anto-Engage, and her father. His first reaction had been anger.

  “Your father may be a legend, Grace, but you think of him as if he's the answer to everything. Like he's damned invincible! Have a little faith in me, Grace!”

  He expected her to be shocked, or at least upset at his harshness. He never raised his voice toward her. He couldn't believe he had actually c
ursed. But he was the one to be shocked when she merely laughed and wrapped her arms around him from behind as he sat at their kitchen table.

  “I have full faith in you, Drago Zadrovec, and you know it! Although, I suppose you have a point, husband. But if you have a daughter someday, don't you want her to look at you in this way?”

  The truth of her words melted away his anger. Hauling her into his lap, he kissed her and laughed at himself.

  “I suppose it is time to think about this move, žena. Elians's skills may require your father's expertise, I admit.”

  She became serious as she met his eyes.

  “Drago, I love our life here. I'm not saying that we should return to America permanently.”

  He raised an eyebrow before teasing, “Are you admitting that even our dear Anika is growing on you?”

  “I would never go that far, Mr. Zadrovec,” she grinned.

  There was no longer animosity between the women. Anika would likely always be a petulant and abrasive woman, but the two had come to a respectful understanding over the months. For starters, Grace had seen beyond the woman's prima donna act when she had decided against terminating her pregnancy. Anika, for all her bark, had denied her wants for Josip's sake. But even that had not blunted her tongue where Grace was concerned. The shift in their relationship had stemmed from an unlikely source.

  Josip's sister, Ranelle Igrec.

  As word had spread about Grace's training program for women, even Ranelle had taken notice. Her career rested on her looks and figure, and eventually curiosity brought her to Spar-Slava. Under Grace's fitness regime, which included jujitsu and self-defense, Ranelle saw results. For months their relationship remained purely professional, but working closely with Grace, who pushed and encouraged her beyond her limits, began to break down her prejudice.

  Camaraderie grew between them, and they found themselves enjoying one another's company. Friendship caused Ranelle to open up.

  “It wasn't that I didn't like you. I didn't even know you,” Ranelle explained. “I judged you because of Vanessa. I shouldn't have, Grace.”