Page 59 of The Fighter

I didn’t even have time to finish my sentence before he cut me off. “I’ll be there.”

So that’s done.

I’m back home in my apartment. I’ve lost track of time, but it’s dark outside. I sit on my couch, a cup of herbal tea cradled in my hands, and stare into space. I should be thinking about Vidone and the fantastical story that Antonio Moretti told me about a business deal that will be sealed by my marriage to a Russian Bratva heir.

Instead, I’m thinking about Tomas, and my insides are a mass of hurt.

We slept with each other this morning. We’ve worked together for two weeks. We’ve bickered and lobbied insults at each other. We’ve fought each other. He bet ten thousand euros that I’d win my underground MMA fight. He saved me from being abducted; he killed two men for me.

I thought we meant something to each other. I thought we were… friends, maybe, although friendship doesn’t even begin to cover the complexity of our relationship. Friends with benefits? Enemies who bicker a lot but are secretly always there for each other and who also sleep together?

Whatever label you put on it, I thought Tomas knew me.

But then, less than twelve hours after the best, most intimate sex I’ve ever had in my life, he sat at that conference table, as calm as ever, and asked me if I was sure I didn’t want to marry a complete stranger. Less than twelve hours after we slept together, Tomas implied I’d jump at the chance to marry someone because of what they could buy me. Vacations. Fancy cars. Diamond jewelry.

If Tomas really believes I’m tempted by the prospect of marrying Damir Malinov, he doesn’t know me at all.

And whatever I thought we had was a lie. The affection in his eyes when he looked at me—I was imagining it.

I wanted someone to lean on so badly that I made it all up. Pathetic, needy fool that I am, I confused Tomas’s support with caring. But he’s been clear about the reason right from the start. It’s all in the contract. If he’s concerned about me at all, it’s because I’m running Groff’s. He’s put more than a million euros into the gym, and, like any responsible investor, he’s protecting his investment.

I want to curl up into a ball and cry. I want to jump into a ring and fight until my hands are raw and bloody, my face bruised, and my body aching from the repeated blows.

But even that won’t hurt as much as my heart does.

If there’s a story of my life, it’s that everyone eventually betrays me. Simon swore that he was committed to the gym, but he never did a damn thing. He let me shoulder all the workload. In the grip of Alzheimer’s, my mother forgot my face, forgot she even had a daughter. If Tomas is to be believed, my father doesn’t even want to know me. He needs a daughter to marry off to a Russian Bratva prince, and I’m conveniently there.

And Tomas? There is chemistry between us and a definite attraction, but Tomas has always made it clear what he really wants from me. He needs me to run the gym efficiently. Even if we end up in bed together—like this morning—he’s perfectly capable of compartmentalizing his emotions. It’s just sex to him. An itch that needs to be scratched. Nothing more.

The problem is me. When I want something, I go all in. I ignore the warning signs and dive into the deep end. I did it with Simon—who goes into business with a vacation fling? But I wanted the gym so badly that I didn’t do any due diligence on my partner. Same thing with Tomas. I told myself at the start that I shouldn’t get involved with him, and then, what do I do? I watch him solve my problems, one by one, starting with the contractor, Marcelo, and then I get involved with him.

Even now, I’m burying my head in the sand about his mafia involvement. Even though he killed two men last night, that’s not what’s making me sick to my stomach. No, I’m sitting here fretting because I’ve fallen in love with him, and he clearly doesn’t feel the same way about me.

Enough brooding. I take a deep breath. Somewhere along the way, I’ve forgotten I wanted to buy Tomas out as soon as possible. But I need to recommit to that plan. I need to raise one point three million euros as soon as possible. Rosa’s fiancé Leo is rich—maybe he’ll lend me the money. Then again, he works with Tomas, so he’ll probably take his side. Jon Burke retired as a very wealthy lawyer and is only involved in the Legal Aid Society because he feels like he has to make amends for being a shark attorney. Maybe he’ll want to become a partner in a gym. Worst case, I could ask Ciro del Barba. I’ve only met the man once, but I get the sense that he’d find it funny to buy Tomas out. Yes, that’s like jumping from the frying pan into the fire, but I’m willing to do it anyway.

My trip to Valencia is next weekend. I’m going to meet my father there. If he turns out to be loving and supportive, the parent I’ve always dreamed of having, then great. If he’s trying to get me married off to some Russian guy, then I’ll firmly point out that he’s being ridiculous. Once I’ve got that sorted, I’ll come back home and focus on what’s truly important.

My gym, and wrestling control of it away from Tomas Aguilar.

I’m surveying the contents of my refrigerator bleakly when there’s a knock on the door.

I open it to find Tomas.

I contemplate slamming the door in his face, but as satisfying as that would be, Tomas has done nothing wrong. He’s never lied to me. If my heart is broken, it’s my fault.

I step aside silently.

He comes into my space. “No dildo today?” he asks, looking at my bedside table, laughter coating his voice. “Pity.”

Haha. I’m not amused. “What do you want, Tomas?”

His expression turns alert. “You sound angry.”

I’m angry, but not with him. I’m furious with myself. “I’m not. Why are you here?”

He takes a step toward me, and I back away. He stops immediately. “Are you afraid of me, Ali?” he asks quietly. “Is this because of the men I killed? I’m not going to apologize for that.” He clenches his hands into fists. “But I’m not capable of hurting you, dolcezza. I would rather tear my heart out first.”

I have many complicated feelings about Tomas, but fear isn’t one of them. “I’m not afraid of you. I don’t know why, but I’m not. I’ve never been.”

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