Page 65 of Scarred Hearts

“You can choose any fighters you want for the fight. We’ll have several fights before the main event. Gia and a fighter of your choice will be our main event. Man or woman, you choose.”

She and her men darted their eyes at one another, heads bent together as they spoke rapidly in Russian. Suddenly, she raised her hand, and the group fell silent, their expressions anxious and prepared.

He took another drag from his cigarette before continuing, “If she comes out as the winner, then you back off, and she belongs to me.”

No, Ian, she belongs to me. I thought to myself.

She threw her head back and laughed, her men joining in before she raised a hand once again to signal for silence. The room grew so deathly quiet, you could’ve heard a pin drop. Her facial expression was stoic, but it was evident she was searching for any flaws or loopholes. She opened her mouth to respond several times, but no words escaped her lips.

“If she doesn’t win,” he declared, “she’ll return to L.A. with you, and we’ll never bother you again. I’ll even sign a contract using my own blood if necessary.”

My head snapped back in surprise, and I stared at him with my eyes wide open and the cigarette dangling from my lips while taking a drag.

“Ohhh,” Ekaterina sang, “someone not like that. Bring back bad memory, Tyler?”

I whipped my head around to face her. My eyes locked onto hers, catching sight of Ivan’s smirking face behind the deep, scabby wounds I left him with.

“Oh yes,” she taunted, “you think I not know it was you?”

Ian, Luke, Nico, and I all exchanged confused glances.

“Ha!” she cackled. “Giovanna not told you?”

“Told me what?” I demanded, my voice laced with frustration. With a piercing twist of my fingers, I snuffed out the cigarette in the ashtray, the embers glowing briefly before fading. I fanned the cloud of smoke away from my face.

With a dismissive wave of her hand, she shook her head. “No, no,” she said with a sly smile, “it much more entertaining if she tell you herself.” What the fuck? My confusion only grew as I turned to face Ian. “You have deal, Ian Knight. Send me detail when you have a chance.” She stood, her taunting gaze focused on me. “Have your lawyer get contract and a knife ready. I want his blood too.”

As our meeting ended, Ekaterina demanded to see the warehouse where the fight would be held. Her brother and guards, standing at her side, seemed eager to inspect the space and prepare for the upcoming event as well. Ian obliged without hesitation.

Initially, I’d been hesitant about Giovanna fighting. But now, as we made our way through the warehouse, I found myself looking forward to watching her kick anyone’s ass that Ekaterina threw her way, regardless of who it was. And if she failed to do so, I was prepared to jump into the ring and fight on her behalf, whether Ian approved or not. She wasn’t going back to California.

The hours had slipped by, and I couldn’t get her out of my head. I wanted to be at home with her and my kids, but I kept reminding myself, she might have been uncomfortable and counting down the minutes until I got home so she could bail. My kids were well-behaved, but they were still kids… and active. By 6:00 p.m., it was well past the time I’d planned to leave. I sent her a quick text to let her know I was on my way home.

Sorry it took way longer than I thought.

I’m on my way!

No worries :)

As I drove home, all I could think about was Ekaterina’s comment about her. It bothered me that she would try to manipulate me and make me question my thoughts and feelings about Giovanna. But despite her attempts, I couldn’t shake off her words.

The moment I pulled into my garage and got ready to open the door to the house, I smelled the most amazing Italian aroma I’d ever smelled in my entire life. I took another deep breath as I stepped inside, hearing the sound of laughter and Buddy Greco’s music in the background. It’d been a while since anyone in my house had laughed like that, but I couldn’t remember a time when there was such music and food involved.

Turning the corner and entering the kitchen, I came to a halt at the scene in front of me. Evan and Jackson were laughing together, nudging each other as they prepared the table in the breakfast nook. It was something I’d never seen them do before, not even when their mother was alive.

Naya was balancing on a stool next to Giovanna, mixing a colorful salad. On the island, a perfect homemade lasagne sat next to a basket of freshly baked bread sticks. As Jackson rushed over to grab the oven mitts, he caught sight of me standing there.

“Hey, dad,” he grinned, picking up the mitts, sliding them on, then moving the food to the center of the table.

“Hi!” Evan added just as Giovanna and Naya beamed at me.

“Hi, dad!” Naya said.

I greeted everyone with a simple “hey” as I strolled over to where Giovanna was standing. My hand instinctively rested on the small of her back, preparing to lean in for a kiss, but then I suddenly froze. “Hi, beautiful,” I whispered and quickly pulled my hand away, realizing I should be more careful.

“Welcome home,” she beamed.

“You did all this?” I asked. “Is that homemade bread too?”

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