Blindsided (The Fighter Series Book 1) (30 page)

I’m heaving rage. “Paige—”

“No!” she barks again then zips around to face the punk. “
Loved
, you asshole. Past fucking tense.” She stomps toward him as his chest rises and falls while adrenaline floods him, glowering at her. Without warning, she hauls off and kicks him in the nuts and as he doubles over, she squares him in the jaw.

I grab her shoulders and pull her back while she kicks and bucks still yelling. “Hope that fucking feels great! Stay the fuck away from me!”

“Paige,” I growl in her ear but now she’s the one too far gone.

“Be glad it was me and not him,” she continues to spit at him.

I turn her and pick her up bringing her to my face. “Fucking snap out of it!”

She blinks and her hands dart to her mouth. Outrage melts away as absolute shock splashes her face with a deep shade of red. I’m assuming she’s never lost herself before…it’s a perilous place to be and she just visited it front and center.

“Hi,” I tighten my lips. “Welcome back.”

“I–I…” she stutters.

“Went paperweight on his ass,” I tell her placing her feet back to the ground.

Wesley has already put his tail between his legs and disappeared around the corner into the darkness to probably lick his wounds. But me? I’m furious. I grab her arm and guide her to my car and jerk open the door. “Get in,” I growl.

I step around to the driver’s side and drop in immediately turning to her. “If you ever step between two men like that again…” I pause unsure how I’ll even finish it. “Just fucking don’t ever do that shit again. If I had hit you…” I don’t finish that.

“But you would have blown your chance at the championship,” she says quietly.

“You could have gotten hurt!” I shout slamming my fist against the steering wheel. Frustrated and knowing my limits, I stop myself before I can say anything further and start my car putting it in gear.

No words are exchanged on the short ride home. I’m fuming, swarming with a pissed-offedness I’ve never experienced before. She remains quiet, nervously twiddling a string from her purse as we pull into the driveway. I place my hand on her lap, steadying her in the seat as she reaches for the door.

Her whole body’s tense, a sickening worry drenching her face. “Don’t you ever do that again,” I tell her, this time less vexed.

“But—”

“There aren’t any, Paige. You could have gotten hurt. Tell me what would have happened if that punch had connected? How would you have felt if that put you in the hospital? How the fuck would I have felt? You don’t get between men, I don’t care how fucking tough you think you are.”

Her eyes turn into steely slits. “He isn’t worth losing your chance.”

“That’s my decision.”

“You would have hated yourself if you lost it. You’ve said it yourself. You’ve worked so hard to get where you’re at,” she counters.

“I have worked hard, and I would have worked even harder to get back to where I’m at. But you don’t decide what I do. Do you understand that? Do you not get that you could have been seriously hurt?”

Defeated, she nods. There’s no argument. She knows I’m right.

“I’m a fighter. I’m trained to read people, to read their actions as well as their reactions. I focus on body movement. Eyes. Body language. It’s survival, but Paige, if I didn’t have an ounce of control, there wouldn’t have been a way to slam the brakes on that strike. You better be damn glad I saw you.”

She slides back in her seat and takes several deep breaths.

And now the question that has repeated itself a million fucking times in my head. “What the fuck did he mean by you two kissing?”

She stares in front of her. “He kissed me,” she says faintly.

“When?” I ask.

She has yet to look my way. Her stare is blank, her body rigid. Then like a switch, tears puddle up and spill onto her cheeks and she grabs her face. “I was so hurt by you, then he confessed things I didn’t know about…I was so confused. I kissed him back. I didn’t stop him,” she cries into her palms.

Some other shithead had his lips on my cherished treasure? What a fucking punch in the stomach. I grit my teeth releasing steam through my nose. “Are you with me now?” I ask furiously.

She wipes her cheeks and finally looks to me. “Do what?”

“Are you with me now?” I repeat. “Are we together or not? It’s not a hard fucking question. Do you want to be with me or him?”

“You.”

“Then put the past in the past and don’t ever do that shit again or I’ll murder the bastard who touches you.”

Before any of you say I’ve pussied out and should have made her divulge more, you need to stop and hear me out. Some shit is better left unsaid, better left alone and forsaken. If you recall, I fucked up with Allison, falling directly into the black widow’s trap. If it wasn’t for that mess, this kiss wouldn’t have happened. First, I don’t want to fucking hear about it. Second, we’ve started fresh and that’s where I’m focused. That’s the beginning line, the bell at the start of the round. Everything prior is eradicated.

“I’m sorry,” she snuffs.

I lean to her and wipe a tear from under her eye. “It’s done. As long as you know where you want to be,” I say and her lips quirk up slightly. “But you have to promise me one thing. Don’t you ever go paperweight on me. I don’t feel like getting my ass kicked by my girlfriend.”

That does her in and she wraps her arms around my neck laughing, but then she begins to cry again.

What the hell is with you women?

“I’m so sorry,” she weeps into my neck.

“Quit apologizing,” I tell her. “Just keep in mind who has your heart and we’ll be all good.”

Chapter 36

I’m not big on wearing formal dresses, doing formal events, eating formal foods, drinking formal…whatever they drink. But here I am in a long, beautiful, light pink strapless dress with a thin band of shimmering rhinestones and glittery crystal adornments wrapping my waist and outlining the sweetheart cut above my boobs. I’m a nervous wreck bouncing my leg beside Levi in a black limo. His attire is sufficiently more comfortable than mine—a black blazer with a red button down shirt, black trousers, and sneakers. Makes me envious of him being a man. It took me an hour to get ready and only twenty minutes for him.

Cory set him up for another press event, which all the fighters had to join. At first, Cory had Allison as his date, but Levi went ballistic and refused. It got ugly when Levi told him if he had to go with Allison he was going to spill some major shit. The standoff didn’t last long after that, and Cory easily agreed. What the shit is, I don’t know and I’m too chicken to ask.

Levi laughs shaking his head watching my nerves get the best of me. I’ve never had to dress like this, hell, I can barely walk in heels, and I’ve never had the opportunity to be in the public eye like this before. Earlier he warned me how the reporters can sometimes be insensitive, asking questions they know could get a rise out of you. He also filled me in about some of the fighters and said that some can be very ill natured trying to get him riled up. I’ll have to have thick skin and not go “paperweight” on them.

Anxiety is gnawing at me. My pulse is at a tempo like I’ve danced for hours at a club. “I never knew a fighter had to do all this,” I say watching the buildings of Atlanta, Georgia, blur past the windows.

“Depends on the manager. Cory is pretty adamant about it, though. Says we don’t need to lose our grounding. We all started small, and some kids look up to us, so we should set a good example. I support the idea.”

The limo stops and I’m on the edge of a panic attack. People are lining the sidewalks, large cameras everywhere, bright lights…

“Breathe, baby. I’m right beside you all the way,” he says placing a kiss on my knuckles.

“You’re used to this,” I squeak.

He grins. “So are you but they’re usually drunk. Think of everyone as the people on the other side of the bar at the beginning of your shift.”

I take a deep breath begging my confidence to outshine the trepidation, but holy shit, I’m petrified.

“Come on,” he says stepping out of the car holding my sweaty hand.

Immediately, flashes hypnotize and blind me. Bright white lights shatter across our skin. My breath escapes me. Panic grips my throat.

Smile,
I remind myself, forcing it through the stiffness of my cheeks.

Don’t wring your fingers,
I tell myself.

Confidence
.
You have this.

My body is trembling as I walk on feeble legs and I swear everyone can see it. Levi’s hand is on the small of my back, his finger drawing small circles trying to help keep me grounded, but it’s not doing shit to ward off the impulse to run the opposite direction.

Reporters hang over the blue velvet rope shoving their microphones as far as they can reach and shouting questions, trying to get an interview. But Levi ignores them, only pausing for pictures.

“Does she know about the other woman?” a man yells out.

I tense looking up at Levi. He’s smiling confidently at me and winks nudging me forward only to stop mere feet away for more pictures.

“Breathe,” he leans in close whispering in my ear.

As we enter the building, the roar of clicking cameras fades and I’m almost flattened at the sight before me. The room is large like a ballroom with white fabric draping between the posters of fighters in their best rivalry stances. It’s crowded with fighters, managers, women and whomever else. Bright blue lights shine from the floor illuminating the walls while little white lights dance around the floor.

I’m completely out of my element as I take in the people. Most of the men are the size of freight trains, others are older and I’m guessing they’re managers, but they all have stunning women hanging off their arms. Tall, long legs, big boobs, redheads, blondes, brunettes, tons of makeup hiding all blemishes—they’re all flawless.

Knowing me as well as he does, Levi takes me straight to the bar and orders me a Blue Hawaiian, one drink that I truly enjoy. I glance to my right and I’m stunned…completely captivated. Levi’s poster, although meant to be intimidating is unbelievably breathtaking. His vivid blue eyes are stone cold with determination, lips tightly sealed revealing his notorious cocky half grin. His muscles are tense gleaming with power showing off their defined lines. It’s a devastating appeal.

A firm hand wraps around my hip and squeezes. “You like what you see?” Levi whispers seductively against my ear. Heat trickles across my skin, running along my curves and gathering a thirst between my legs. My breath is stuck somewhere between my throat and my lungs—exactly where at, I’m unsure. He chuckles, his hot breath splaying down my neck. “Wipe your drool, sweetheart.”

Crimson climbs my cheeks as if they’ve been in the oven on broil. I turn to him trying to hide my embarrassment and flash a wicked smile. “I was just admiring the poster beside you. He’s smoking hot.”

He licks his lips continuing his thrilled stare. “Your lies are miserable.” He winks and squeezes me into his side.

For the past hour, Levi has had to do a lot of talking, conversing with several reporters—who aren’t like the paparazzi outside—a few of the fighters, and several of the managers with me right beside him. Their conversations range from the weather in some tropical areas, to upcoming or past fights and I’m tired of pretending I care.