Page 110 of Forbidden Romeo

The roar of the crowds seems louder than I ever remember it before. As I wrap and re-wrap my hands, I try to tune it out so I can focus.

My first match against Kennedy had been simple, fueled by the rage I felt for Padraic. The fact I’d seen Kennedy fight before made it easy to take him down, even though he was by no means an easy opponent. He won this very competition only last year.

Living at the Duffy mansion this last week should have made it easier to pick up on clues to my next fight. But the only name Ray and I managed to find was “Quinn.” There were close to a dozen low- to high-profile fighters in the eastern European circuit, so it didn’t exactly help.

Nonetheless, I spent a sleepless night in Ray’s office scanning crappy handheld footage of anyone fighting with that name.

“You’re tired,” my old coach observes from across the room as I stand up and stretch out my muscles again.

He’s not wrong; I can already feel the fatigue starting to set in. With Aimee making a habit of locking me out of my room these past few days, it’s been difficult to catch any discreet shut-eye. Morris already made a joke about me being in the doghouse, and there’s only so much… separation we can get away with before Padraic starts to notice.

I know she’ll be in the crowd somewhere today. Kate, at least, has taken it upon herself to text me her location since the gala. It does little to settle my nerves, and there’s been a few times I’ve had to stop myself from outright stalking her. I’m constantly reminding myself that she rejectedme.

Sulking like a teenage boy about it feels pathetic.

“Not as tired as you, old man.” I try to say it lightly, but it comes out in a dull monotone.

He approaches to clasp me on the shoulder, a gesture I know he’s only rarely performed. “Be careful this time, okay?”

I nod, finally satisfied with my hands, and give them an experimental flex.

“Watch your left foot; I saw it slip a few times against Kennedy,” Coach gives me a small pat before walking away.

“See you on the other side?” I say to his retreating form.

He’s saved from his response by a booming announcement crackling over the speakers. The crowds immediately quieten. There’s no speech from Padraic this time, only a brief welcome before my name is announced.

The crowd goes berserk. That’s my cue.

I head toward the door and step out, up the stairs, and into the ring. Even though I tell myself I’m not going to look for her, I still do. My eyes scan the crowd for her red hair as the commentator reads out my weight and class.

Finally, I spot her. A vision in emerald green perched on her seat in the VIP box. Deep, chocolate eyes watching me intently.

I give her a mock salute.

For the first time in a week, I see the ghost of a smile on her lips.

Something deep in my chest cracks, and a dull pain envelops my entire body. Like someone has punched me straight in the rib.

I’ve missed that smile.

“Aaaaaannnddd, in the other corner, we have three-time European champion Quinn Matisse!”

It takes me a moment to tear my eyes away from her to size up my opponent.

Of course, Padraic would import a BKB champ to fight me.

Quinn and I are physically much more evenly matched than Kennedy and I. He’s a similar height, and his strength seems to be in his core instead of his arms and shoulders. Lighter on his toes, too, I notice as he skips quickly from one foot to the next.

A glance back to my corner to look at my coach’s grim expression tells me all I need to know. This is going to be a rough fight.

We circle each other slowly. Quinn’s face is a mask of pure professionalism. I notice him glancing at my left foot and immediately adjust to compensate, cursing myself for giving a weakness away.

Watching him move at this distance, however… I come up short. There’s nothing there to exploit, no obvious weaknesses. This man is built like a goddamn machine.

The referee finally raises his hand, and I brace myself for Quinn to make an immediate attack.

Only when the whistle goes it doesn’t come.

---