Page 4 of Fighting Fate

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The roar of the spectators fills the arena as the ref lifts the Brit’s arm in the air. He’s bloody, but the Brazilian is barely standing. The atmosphere is electric, and although my blood is furiously pumping through me with the energy to go a few rounds myself, I can’t help but look down at the girl fidgeting in her seat.

The attitude she possesses is etched all over her face as she watches. With long, dark hair and creamy skin, she’s different to most of the girls parading in front of us. Maybe she’s not the kind of girl I would pause to admire, but her fire is captivating. Or at least it has me ready to get her all riled up again. There’s nothing I love more than getting a rise, and she’s got buckets of it ready to dish out.

“Are you sticking around for the celebrations?” Frank asks, slapping my shoulder when I don’t look up at him. The instant our eyes meet, he gives that don’t go there look in warning.

After watching the two of them throughout the game, it’s obvious that they’re just friends. But his protectiveness of her tells me there’s more to them.

“Yeah, I got a table reserved at the club.” Flashing my eyes between him and the girl, I ask, “You want to join?”

“No,” she replies quickly at the same time as Frank tells me, “Sure. We have some people to talk to first, but we’ll join you after.”

“He’ll join you. I will not.” With a wink in my direction, she stands, holding her head high and pulling her shoulders up in a show of strength.

It’s cute. She’s cute in a totally standoffish and bitchy kind of way. Green eyes meet mine, the dark make-up giving them a glasslike quality that makes it impossible for me to look away.

I don’t know what her problem is with me, and I don’t care. Except her bark makes me want to bite back.

“It’s your loss,” I say with a slight chuckle, already aware that it’s the smallest things that get the better rise.

When she’s about to open her mouth, I raise my finger, hovering it over her lips so that she either holds her ground or accepts defeat by pulling back. Of course, she does exactly what I didn’t think of. Stepping closer, she grips my wrist with both hands and twists my arm away from her. In one second flat, she’s gone from being pretty to hot as fuck.

The girl doesn’t know it yet, but she’s just earned her spot at the top of my fuck list. And whether she’ll admit it or not, the heated glint in her eyes as I grasp her hand to release myself from her hold tells me it’s exactly where she wants to be.

“Laters, doll.” Mimicking her wink, I rest a hand on her hip, turning us on the spot so that I can get past her.

“Don’t count on it!”

One thing she’ll learn by the time I’m done with her is that I’m not about the numbers. Action is my thing.

* * *

A syncopated beatechoes around me, loud and almost more than my ears can take as I yell over it to continue the conversation Frank and I were having before a random chick stopped for a photo.

“What’s the plan?” he asks, leaning forward to refill his drink.

I told myself that I wouldn’t go heavy tonight, but it’s been so long since we’ve been able to have a drink together that it’s all gone out of the window. No doubt I’ll pay for it tomorrow when I meet my trainer.

“I guess I’m sticking around for a while.”

“How long is a while?”

“Six months. I think that will be enough time to get the gym set up. The one in LA only took three months, but it’s a different culture, and the PR guys want me around for promo spots.”

Letting him refill my glass, I look around the bar to find the girl engrossed in her phone. She looks upset, and for some reason, I feel the need to step in.

“You ever put that thing down?” I ask, grabbing the device from her and slipping it into the pocket of my slacks.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she snaps at the same time as I tell her, “Saving you from whatever black hole you’re getting sucked into.”

“I don’t need saving.” Although she holds her hand out, she doesn’t make a move to tackle me for the phone. It’s disappointing in one way, but the exasperation on her face gives me an idea.

Calling a server over, I order another rum and Coke for her, making it a quadruple instead of the doubles she keeps having. The girl needs to loosen up a little.

“I thought you said I was going to have fun.” She scowls at Frank. “I’ve had more fun at mass than—”

“You need to relax,” Frank tells her, glancing towards the other side of the bar, where a gaggle of girls is collected.

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