I nod, placing my hands on my hips. “She sure is.”
It’s nice being with Darryl. I haven’t seen him much, not outside of training, anyway. His wife is in Vegas to stay for a few weeks and they’ve been spending quality time. That or he’s avoiding me because we haven’t been getting along much recently.
“I heard about the club last night. It’s all over the internet—even in the paper.”
With my hands in my pockets, I trot down the stairs, slowly making my way to the massive cage in the middle of the room.
“Yeah, well, it was quite the spectacle. He’s lucky I didn’t kick his ass right then and there.”
Darryl snorts. “You didn’t have to. Olivia did it for you.”
I smile and don’t even try to hide it. Darryl stops walking and leans against a plastic chair lining the stairs. I let my eyes roam the arena before coming back to him.
“Do me a favor and avoid the paper for the next couple of days. You’re not going to like the stories they’re spinning.”
Of course they’ve found a way to make last night the biggest issue in Vegas.
“What’s it say?”
“According to everyone else, Olivia is banging both you and Don.”
My fists clench and I laugh once. “I bet Don is loving that one.”
“I can guarantee it, and he’s going to use it to get further into your head. You need to be more careful, Seth,” he says, folding his arms. “He can take everything from you.”
I scoff. “He can try.”
He shakes his head, raking his hand over his face. “It’s not often I lecture you, but it’s very important that you listen to what I’m about to say.”
I take a step back and lean against the plastic chair opposite him, opening the floor up for him to speak his mind.
“Matt Somers knows what he’s doing. He’s been in the game for a long time and he knows exactly what generates money. There are three things that sell tickets in this industry; sex, rivalry, and grudge matches. Who do you think is spinning the stories? He knows you can’t stand Don, he knows Don wants to bang your wife, and he knows it barely takes a glance from Don in your direction to make you want to kill him.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“I need you to learn how to walk away. I need you to learn how to tolerate assholes and not give this company the information it needs to make money off you.”
“How? How do I stop Don and Matt from getting inside of my head?”
“Firstly, you drop the alpha-caveman ‘mine’ shit. Don’s brain works like a child. If you tell him ‘no’, he only wants it more. Secondly—and most importantly—you train hard, eat, sleep, and live well.” He pauses and blinks at me, making sure I’m taking it all in. “And lastly, you stay home.”
I drag my teeth over my bottom lip in thought. When I stay home, I have the dreams, the dreams of Don and my father. When I’m out and about, I exhaust myself until I’m too tired to even dream. I prefer that.
“I can’t stay home. I’m busy.”
Darryl’s face pinches together with a frustrated scowl. “Doing what? The only thing you have to do is prepare for your next fight.”
Fair enough. “And Olivia? You expect me to force her to stay home, too?”
“She does whatever you want her to do. All you have to do is ask and bat those pretty eyelashes of yours and she’ll agree to never go outside again.”
I blow air out of my lips with skepticism. “She’s a lot more stubborn than you think.”
“To everyone else, maybe, but you have that girl wrapped around your glove. She’d do anything for you even if it means she misses out.”
I turn from Darryl and continue down the stairs. Olivia is the only one who knows about the dreams, she soothes me, comforts me with her words, and pacifies me with sex, but maybe Darryl can help. Besides Jackson, no one knows me like Darryl does. He knows how I work and he knows my next move before I even make it.
I hear his shoes patter against the concrete as I saunter towards the cage. It stands above me now, looming over me, teasing me. My chest tightens and my heart pounds in my ears. A faint, familiar pinch of panic seizes my chest and I grit my teeth, refusing to let it overcome me. In my dreams, this is the exact cage I get my ass beat and my body broken in. I’ve never been one to analyze the crazy shit my mind dreams up…but this time I wonder if there’s an underlying message. If I give up this life and choose a slower one with Olivia… would that make my father proud? Making my father proud means losing to Don, destroying my own pride in the process. Beating Don means I disappoint my father and give the MMAC exactly what they want. I lose something no matter which way I go… and on second thought I don’t give a shit what makes my father proud anymore.
“He can take everything you’ve worked so hard for, Seth,” Darryl mutters, pulling me from my own head.
I glance around. I’m in the cage, standing directly in the center while Darryl leans against the wire from the outside. There’s a sincerity in his eyes and I believe him. I believe that Don has the ability to take everything from me. Not because he’s stronger, faster, or meaner, but because he knows how to play dirty.
“I’ve been having these dreams,” I tell him, strolling to the edge of the cage. “I’m about to fight Don, the crowd is going crazy, people are shouting and cheering—you’re there, so is Olivia—and Jackson, too. The bell goes off and I start laying into Don, hit after hit… but it doesn’t affect him, and when I look up, it’s my father looking down at me with those beady, judgmental eyes.” I run my fingers along the cage, feeling the cool wire under my fingertips. “He talks to me, tells me I’m shit.” I laugh once under my breath. “You know, the usual, and as I’m talking to him, Don keeps hitting me from every direction before disappearing into thin air. Dad slaps me, disappears, and suddenly the room fills again. Everyone is shouting at me to get up and there’s a heavy pressure on my arm. Don has me in an arm bar and I can’t break free.” My fingers trail over the spot where I proposed to Olivia and I swear the metal heats under my skin. My lips twitch and I turn back to Darryl. “He snaps my arm and then I wake up.”
He watches me closely, his face void of any emotion, be it amused or worried. “You want to know what it means?”
I nod.
“Absolutely nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Absolutely nothing,” he repeats with finality. “I know you, pal. I know how you get when fights draw closer and I’ll tell you the same thing I always tell you when you get anxious. It’s not a big deal. Win or lose, it doesn’t matter. If you lose, Olivia will still be here tomorrow, so will I—and Jackson, too. The same goes if you win.” A wide smile spreads over his face. “You made it to the big leagues. You beat all of your opponents in the tournament and you beat Junior Moset at this own game with an arm bar. You need to start realizing your own potential. Don is nothing. He’s just a lonely man paid by the MMAC to boost sales. They truly don’t want him to win. You are their prized possession.”
“Right,” I say with absolute confidence. What’s in a dream, anyway? I feel invigorated, like a new person entirely. Before I came here, I was tired and I wasn’t pumped to see the arena. Now, every cell in my being is alive and buzzing, like I’m holding onto an umbrella after a bolt of lightning has struck it.
I’m not done with my career.
I rule this arena.
This is my kingdom and I am the king.
Chapter Seven
Olivia
Seth came back from the arena a different person than the one he has been for the past few weeks. He seems happy—genuinely happy. I haven’t seen him smile like this since our honeymoon. Whatever Darryl did or said worked a treat. I can’t talk sense in Seth sometimes, not like Darryl or Jackson can.
As I lie lazily on the bed, I smile into my book as his voice filters in from the bathroom. He’s humming a tune I don’t know. Seth saunters into the bedroom, pulling a nice blue shirt over his head. It clings to his chest and arms, loosening at his stomach. His black knee length shorts and white as white sneakers top off his casual yet sexy outfit.
“Wow,” I say, peering over the edge of my book. “You look great.”
“And you’re still in your pajamas.”
I glance down at my bed pants and overly large ‘SETH’ shirt Selena bought me during my first live fight. “Am I supposed to be wearing something else? It’s seven p.m.”
“I have a load of inappropriate comments I can make in response to that, but it’ll only get me excited, which will make us late. Right now, I’m going to take the high road—the road without the sexual comments and hilarious humor—and let you know that we’re going out for one last dinner before I lock us up in here until the fight.”
Lock us up? In here? The thought is both exhilarating and absolutely terrifying. “But the fight is months away.”
“I’m aware of that, but Darryl thinks it’s for the best and so do I.”
I nod, hesitantly. If Seth thinks it will help him, then I want to be on board. “Okay. If that’s what you want, we can do it. What time’s dinner?”
“You have thirty minutes.”
I sit upright, alarmed. Rough tangles of chocolate hair fall into my face and I brush them away as I shake my book at him. “Thirty minutes? Seth! I have a whole chapter to finish!”
He stares at me, eyes wide like I’m the craziest person on earth. “So pause it.”
“Pause it? It’s a book, not a movie. There are certain details that I’ll have to re-read if I stop now.”
“It’s just a book.”
“Just a boo—” I pause and take a breath. Non-readers just don’t get it. When I get into a book I won’t stop unless there are gushing tsunamis, erupting volcanoes and twirling tornadoes heading straight for me. I’m talking real end of the world shit—not dinner. What’s food when you’re in the middle of a good book?
“This is more than just a book. It’s a story about cowboys and damsels in distress.”
He blinks at me. Of course this is all alien language to him.
“They’re racing this horse and carriage alongside a rushing steam train—okay, it doesn’t sound as awesome when I say it like that, but the hero and the heroine are about to declare their love for each other. You can’t just tear me away now.”
Seth crosses the room with a smile on his face—it’s an innocent smile and it puts me on edge. Nothing Seth does is innocent.
“Honey,” he says in a voice too sweet for my liking as he pries my book from my hands. “Let me help you.”
He dog-ears my page and closes the book. My mouth drops open. Is he insane? “You did not just do that.”
Who dog-ears pages anymore? Has he not heard of a Goddamn bookmark?
“Do what?”
I keep my stare on the book in his hands. “Dog-ear my page.”
Seth frowns. “I don’t know what that means.”
I throw myself back against the mattress, exhaling. “Of course you don’t.”
His large, warm hands seize my ankles and I squeal as he yanks me down the bed, stopping me with his hands on my hips before I completely slide off. He lowers his face to mine. “We’re having pizza for dinner.”
Pizza: the one word that instantly brightens my mood. Here I am thinking he was going to take me somewhere that only do salmon and other weird lean stuff I can’t pronounce. I haven’t had bad food in such a long time. When Seth eats well, you can’t find anything bad in the entire house—not even chocolate. His nutritionist tried to convince me that we can substitute chocolate and make things from cocoa instead, but I tried cocoa and it is definitely not chocolate. Most of the time I sneak to Selena’s room and load up on bad carbs. He chuckles at me as my lips stretch into a smile.
“Pizza?” I ask, caution thick in my voice. “Really?”
I expect him to laugh at me or admit he’s playing some kind of sick, twisted joke. Instead, Seth plants a kiss on my mouth. It’s quick, too quick to enjoy and I almost pout. “Really. Now get up. I’ll meet you downstairs in twenty.”
“Wait,” I call after him. “You mean actual pizza? Not a weird kind of healthy pizza made on lettuce leaves, right?”
“Yes, Miss Piggy.” He laughs. “I mean real authentic pizza—bread, meat, cheese—the lot. Now come on. You’re wasting time.”
He straightens his posture, tosses my book onto the bed, and leaves the room. I slide off the bed, landing on my ass. It hurts, but I couldn’t care less. I’m having pizza!
We pull up outside Gusto Pizzeria and the smells of cooked bread and meat seep into the car through Seth’s open window. My stomach grumbles, begging me to eat something. I reach for the seatbelt clip and before I click it, Seth speaks.
“I’ve changed my mind.”
Oh hell no. If he doesn’t want pizza he can get something else because I’m getting one—no, two—I’m getting two for the road.
“On the pizza?” I feel my pout forming.
He laughs and reaches across. I pull my shoulders in as he pinches my cheek between his index finger and thumb, and I wince as he squeezes. “No, not on the pizza, you cute shit. Wait here.”
He slips from the car and I jump as he slams the door. He pulls his phone from his pocket and makes a call. I wait patiently as he disappears into the busy pizza shop. Groups enter and emerge at the same time. When one group goes in hungry, another comes out with swollen bellies. I want a swollen pizza belly.
