The Last Round (12 page)

Kim Campo is well known with A-list stars. She has helped many in Hollywood reshape their image and better their brand. I was looking for a new PR company a few months back when I finally decided to move forward in launching my adult and children athletic clothing line. “Fine,” I spit out, just willing to get this over with. I wish Jonathan was here, but that bastard had to go away on an important business trip, in Egypt of all places.

Her pink stained lips stretch into a sly grin. “You look good by the way; besides, you only need to show your face for about two hours, then you’ll present the first award and you can go. So just relax. Remember, people love you. You’re tabloid worthy.”

“Tabloid worthy?”

“Yes, your story. Why do you think you’re more popular with social media than most boxers? You’re the lost boy.”

“The lost boy,” I repeat, trying to figure out what the hell that means.

As if reading my expression, she goes on and the smile is plastered to her face. “Boy raised in the bad lands, no father, lost his mother to lung cancer before he even graduated high school. Struggled all his life and used all of the anger and motivation toward boxing, creating a career out of it. Had a beautiful wife, who stood by his side, until he screwed things up and she left him. Was undefeated until recently due to the emotional turmoil of losing the one woman he loved most.” She sits back, pleased with the picture she’s painted. “Now you’re going to use that image to really dig deep and have the media fall in love with you.”

Wow
. I allow her to believe that bullshit jumble media crap and tilt my head to stare out the tinted window.

We finally pull in front of the venue. The door to the limo opens and I step out. You’d think after so many years I’d get used to the flashing cameras. I don’t. The paparazzi continue their questioning as I stride down the red carpet. I make my way toward the setup where the reporters await for mini-interviews.

Kim grabs my arm, guiding me in front of a backdrop. “Pose,” she whispers, then steps back as the cameras flash away. I broaden my shoulders, shove my hands into my pockets and give them what they want. I turn left and I turn right, so everyone who asks can get a good shot.

After a couple minutes, Kim pulls me and directs me to the first interview. She whispers, “You only have three interviews. It’ll be less than sixty seconds for each.” I nod in response.

“We have Julian Rios here,” the reporter states. I smirk. “How are you feeling, Julian? I see the bruises are healing nicely.”

I wave a hand over my face. “Yeah, I’m so used to it, I kind of forget the bruises are there.” He chuckles and so do I. “But I’m feeling good. Better than ever.”

“That’s great to hear!” he states overly enthusiastic. His features turn serious. “There are rumors already that you demanded a rematch to win your title back, is that true?”

I shrug. “You know, for right now I’m just going to enjoy this break. I’m going to allow my body to heal, and then jump back in the gym and train again. You never know what the future holds, but for now I’m just going to take it easy.”

“That’s understandable. You put up a good fight, Julian and some argue that you were robbed, and you should have won that fight. How do you feel you did?”

I shove my hands into my pockets and lean into the mic. “I had the best trainer, sparring partners, and nutritionist. I worked really hard for the last six months to keep my head clear. I trained dirty and ate clean. But we all know once you’re in the ring, there’s a 50/50 chance in walking out as a winner.” I press my lips and then shrug. “Nothing is ever certain. All a fighter can do is give it his all and hope for the best. I do feel I could have done better. My mind wasn’t in the right place, but as a fighter you have to expect to win some and lose some. Next time, I’ll be a bit more prepared.”

Just as he’s about to ask another question, Kim tells him, “Time’s up.” The reporter begs for one more, but she shakes her head, stating we’re on a strict schedule. We move along and I’m asked various questions by two other reporters. Most of the answers are similar about my recent fight. I answer and move on.

We step into the venue and I look around. It looks good, probably the best this year. Kim worked hard on helping plan the event this year, and she definitely added some sparkle to it.

It’s cocktail and mingle hour and people are scattered around the banquet hall as music is playing in the background. “Hey, you think you can grab me a glass of wine?” Kim asks as she stretches her neck. Her eyes travel over the space. I’m sure she’s trying to find her next potential client. I have to give it to her, she hustles, but she’s also damn good at what she does.

I make my way toward the bar. I’m stopped by a few people, we shake hands and lightly chat. I finally reach the bar, which is quickly filling. “Hey!” The bartender yells out as I approach.

“Hey.”

He takes the few strides over to the end of the bar, so he can reach me. “Dude, you should have won that fight. It was a robbery. I lost money on you, by the way!”

This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. I’d rather be home, binge watching movies and loading up on carbs. “I hope you didn’t lose much?” I slide onto the only barstool available.

“Just a hundred bucks.” He shakes his head, but then his smile broadens. “I hope you two fight again. That was a hell of a fight, though! It was crazy, probably the most entertaining fight this year. The two of you brawled all the way to the end.”

“Thanks.” I clear my throat. Not that I’m not appreciative of the praise, but I need to get away from this bar before someone gets the wrong idea. “Can I have a glass of chardonnay and a bottle of water?” He nods his head and hurries back to grab my order.

I look around and watch as celebrities pour in. They’re all mingling and chatting with one another. This is going to be the longest two hours of my life.

“Here yah go. You want to open a tab?” the bartender asks.

“Nah, I’m good.” I pull out my wallet and hand him money.

His eyes widen in confusion. “It’s only $15, man. You handed me $120.”

“Yeah, keep the change. Next time don’t bother to bet on me.”

He chuckles. “Dude, thanks! And I will always bet on you! You’re one of my favorite fighters. Do you mind signing this for me?” He grabs a napkin and hands it to me with a pen.

I scribble my signature and give it back to him. When I’m about to stand, a hand touches my shoulder. “Thanks so much,” Kim states as she reaches for her wine. I look up at her; she’s gleaming from ear to ear. “This is becoming an amazing turnout. So many A-lister’s are here!” She practically squeals.

I twirl in my seat to face the entrance; uncapping the bottle, I chug down the water and almost choke. The cool fluid lodges in the middle of my throat when I see Natalia enter. I keep my eyes on her as I wipe my lip. “Are you okay?” Kim asks.

I nod.
Am I okay?
My stare is glued to my wife. I haven’t seen her in six months. She hasn’t returned my calls, my messages, or my texts. And now out of the blue, she’s standing a few feet away from me.

She looks . . .
fuck
, she looks amazing. Stunning. My heart compresses, then follows with heavy beats. I swallow, taking her in. There she is, an elegant beauty in red. She looks down, her features unreadable. She seems lost in thought, then as she lifts her head, she stretches her arm and shakes a few celebrities’ hands. She smiles, laughs at their jokes, and her grin widens.

She looks happy. Happier than I’ve ever seen her. She looks healthy, beautiful. My mouth dries as I watch Liam, her fucking co-worker, wrapping his arm around her waist.

My wife stands a few feet away from me with another man by her side.

A fire ignites in the pit of my stomach. That should be
me
with
my
arms around her. That should be
me
, placing a smile on her face. That should be
me
.

Yet it’s not and I fucked up, and it’s another man.

It takes everything in me not to stand up and rip his arm off. It takes all of my energy to stay rooted on this barstool. But as proven before, I don’t have much persistence and I move to stand, but I’m instantly brought back down as I watch Natalia tilt her head and face me.

Her smile falters, she stumbles back and her lips slightly open. She sees me. I see her, and for a moment nothing else matters.

Natalia

Off balance, I blink, my vision clearing as I take him in. I’ve had a few too many glasses of wine, but I know my husband, and although there’s a bit of a distance between us, I can pick him from a crowded place anywhere. And he’s sitting by the bar taking me in. My breath literally catches, which causes me to stumble back.

Liam’s hand is at the small of my back, which keeps me balanced. Liam looks down at me, leans in to my ear and he whispers. “Everything okay?”

I nod, tearing my stare from Julian. I look around and a waiter passes with a tray of champagne. I grab two glasses, downing one as quickly as possible.

“Whoa.” Liam chuckles. “Are you nervous?”

My heart is literally hammering and my breathing quickens. I feel a bit faint. “No. I’m not nervous. Listen, I need to use the restroom. Can you order me a glass of Merlot and I’ll meet you at our table?”

Liam’s brows pull in. “Are you sure you’re okay? You suddenly seem off.”

“Yes, I’m fine. There’s just so many people in here and I feel a bit dizzy. Too many glasses of wine at the hotel with the girls.” I force a small laugh. “I’ll be at the table soon,” I assure him. His eyes waver for a second, before he finally gives in.

“Okay. I’ll meet you at the table.” He smiles, leans in and kisses me on the cheek.

I shut my eyes, wishing he didn’t do that. Not here, not right now. My face heats, a hot trail shoots through my veins, and not from his kiss. My entire body burns with just knowing Julian is watching.

After a few seconds, I finally compose some of my nerves, and look up. Julian is still there, still staring at me. I need a quick escape before I can face him. I know I have to sooner than later, but I’m not ready, my head isn’t in the right place at the moment. I down the second glass of champagne, and leave it on a tray as I rush through the building crowd.

Some people try to stop me on my way to escape, I force smiles and nod and excuse myself. I continue with my head low until I find an exit to a terrace. I push through the oversized French doors and inhale for what seems like the first time within the last few minutes. My anxiety heightens, I rush toward the balcony, and my hands press against the stonework as I lean forward, looking down at the rush hour traffic zooming by.

Dizzy, my eyes focus on the busy LA nightlife. With heavy inhales, I try to catch my breath. Then my nostrils are invaded by the clean trace of
Aqua Di Gio
. I’m instantly high off of his scent. Chest seizing, I turn around to face him.

“Hi, Natalia,” Julian says.

My entire body feels wobbly. I step back, my back pressing against the balcony. He moves forward, his hands deep in his pockets. He looks so good in his suit. His hair grew longer, and he’s in the best shape of his life. I swallow back. “Hi,” I manage. “W-what are you doing here?”

He cocks his head aside, brows pulling in. I take his features in further. His right brow is stitched from a cut, and his swell of his left eye is going down, but the light purple and green color of the bruise still remains. I always found him even more attractive after a fight. I used to curl up in his lap, run my fingers over his bruises and admire how beautiful he still looked. I would fall more in love with him.

“I’m giving the opening speech,” he states.

“Oh,” is all I can gather to say. I look down, not able to look at him, but I can feel the heat of his stare. Lifting my head, I search his eyes. He seems so lost in thought as he just admires me within arm’s reach.

“Where have you been?” He breathes out, his words sounding more hurt than angry at me.

And it slits at my heart. “I,” I swallow, “I’ve been busy, and trying to distract myself.”

“From me?”

I nod, giving him honesty.

“I
needed
you.” His tone is gruff and it takes me a second to collect my thoughts.

“And I needed you!” I argue. How dare he! I step forward, pointing a finger and getting ready to give him a piece of my mind. But before I can utter a single sound, he closes the space between us.

Julian pulls me in, slamming my body against his as our lips crush against each other. Our bodies molding perfectly, remembering how it used to be. How our love had one been our saving grace. My breath hitches and my mind grows fuzzy as he dips his head low. I exhale and he breathes me in. His taste, his tongue, his hold are intoxicating and all thoughts in my mind instantly vanish.

All the anger I felt scatters and transforms into lust, and love, and fear that he may let go. He manages to make me melt in his arms and I gladly surrender, my body aching for him. I reach up, my fingers digging into his hair. Our tongues recognizing what we have longed for. His kiss is urgent, greedy.

The deep bravado of his groan vibrates against me, and suddenly my mind stirs up so many memories. Memories of our first kiss, the first time we’d made love, and the day I became Mrs. Julian Rios surrounds me. My body and mind are clouded by our history. I moan, allowing him to suck on my tongue, my lips swollen against his. Julian’s hand exploring the curves of my silk dress as his other hand tangles into the waves of my hair. I lift on the tip of my toes, urging him to deepen our kiss, and he does skillfully.