Blake: A Bad Boy Romance (6 page)

Chapter Ten

“Hi, Dad,” Ivy said as she picked up the phone. She was back at work. Ivy had her own private office on the ground floor with a view to the park behind the building. It was modern and sleek with glass walls and a large, dark mahogany desk. She liked her office. It made her feel like a proper adult, instead of a teenager running around in a power suit.

“Ivy, sweetheart. We missed you at breakfast,” her father shouted over the line.

Ivy shook her head and turned down the volume. She could never understand why her normally quiet father felt the need to shout over the telephone. “Sorry, Dad. But I had to get back to work.”

“Of course, I understand. Now I got this letter about my retirement account. Can I read it to you?”

“Sure, Dad,” Ivy said. She listened as her father, in an even but loud voice, shouted the contents of the letter over the phone. It was standard stuff about the fed raising interest rates. Ivy had to calm about a dozen clients down about it. She waited until her father read the entire letter, all the way to the end before she spoke. If she tried to interrupt, he would just keep going until the letter was done. “It’s nothing to worry about, Dad,” Ivy said and she gave him the same lengthy explanation she had given to her other clients. Oddly enough Ivy didn’t mind this part of the job. She liked being able to calm people down and give them a sense of ease about their money. Times were tough and people were nervous. It felt good when she could easily ease their fears.

Sometimes it wasn’t easy. Sometimes Ivy had to deliver bad news. She hated having to do that, but it was part of the job. She felt for every client who made a bad investment or trusted the wrong advice. She had yet to be the cause of anyone’s great financial loss and she was hoping to keep that streak alive as long as possible.

“Well, as long as you don’t think I have to worry...” Jonas said, but Ivy knew he was already calmer; she could hear it in his voice.

“You don’t have to worry.”

“Good, although there was something else I wanted to talk with you about. I heard about the unsigned card from Ellen. You should have told me about that, Ivy,” Jonas said.

“Dad, I didn’t want to worry you. Besides nothing else happened, so I don’t think it was from him.”

“Who else would be sending you hand stenciled cards with nothing inside?”

“Maybe it was sent out by mistake, and whoever wrote it forgot to sign it,” Ivy said. Her voice was growing desperate and she was aware she was grasping at straws.

“There was no address on it. It was hand delivered. It was Darryl. We should have called the police and filed a report.”

“A report that said what?
A blank card was left at our house.
Last time I checked that wasn’t a crime.”

“But trespassing is. You have a restraining order against Darryl. He’s not allowed within fifty feet of you and he’s not allowed to contact you.”

“We can’t prove it was Darryl,” Ivy said. She rubbed her temple with her hand. Ivy knew what her father was saying was right. She should file a report; a paper trail was the best way she could defeat Darryl. But it was so hard to go down to the police station to file these kinds of reports. The officers would look at her like she was crazy or, worse, spoiled. Her first complaint had been about a strange gift left on her doorstep it was a doll with its eyes cut out and its throat slashed. There was the other time she had filed a report for the eighteen threatening messages Darryl had left on her voicemail. That report earned her a restraining order, but it hadn’t stopped him.

“Just because his parents have a lot of money does not mean that he is above the law,” her father yelled into the phone.

Except it kind of does,
Ivy thought. Darryl’s parents were heirs to a logging fortune and his lawyers worked out plea deals or made up defenses and Darryl got away with a slap on the wrist – if anything at all. It was frustrating for Ivy and hell for her father. He just wanted to protect her, she knew that. But sometimes his crusade on her behalf was exhausting.

“It’s too late now, Dad. And maybe this was for the best. Nothing else happened. Just the dumb card. Maybe the best thing to do is ignore him.” Ivy knew her father didn’t want to hear that. It would sound too much like losing.

“I don’t know what you ever saw in that rich jackass,” Jonas spit.

“I know, Dad.” How many times had they had this conversation? Jonas had never approved of Darryl and Darryl had been outright rude to her father. Their only trip home together ended with Darryl leaving early and Ivy in tears.

“He was spoiled and used to getting what he wanted.”

This was true. Darryl had swept Ivy off of her feet. He bought her expensive gifts and brought her to the best restaurants. He arranged private tours on museums so they could avoid the tourists; he took her out on his sailboat. For a while Ivy thought she could look past Darryl’s shortcomings. But the visit home and showed her what a jerk he really was. She broke up with him on New Year’s day. Darryl begged Ivy to change her mind, but she refused. That was when he started stalking her.

“I wish you would have let me tell Blake,” Jonas said. “He’s in the city with you and he can get to you faster than I can.”

“Dad, no. I don’t need Blake to protect me. I can protect myself. Darryl is just messing with me. We shouldn’t let him get into our heads.”

“All right, but promise me if anything like that happens again you’ll call the cops.”

“I promise. Love you, Dad.”

“Love you, too, Ivy.”

Ivy hung up the phone and tried to focus on work. But she was shaken up from her phone call. Ivy had actually forgotten about the letter. She hadn’t bothered unpacking yet and it was still zipped up in her bag.

Her father was right; it had obviously been from Darryl. But he hadn’t done anything else. She figured he had seen her and decided to mess with her and then got bored when she didn’t respond. Although that wasn’t really like him…Darryl was like a dog with a bone. When he set his mind to harassing her, he didn’t stop for anything. So why the only one unsigned, hand-delivered letter?

“Courier dropped this off for you,” her assistant Grace said as she walked into the room and placed a large yellow envelope on her desk.

With a sigh Ivy reached for the envelope and with her letter cutter she ripped the paper and a few sheets of glossy photo paper fell out into her hand. She looked down in confusion. She hadn’t ordered any pictures, certainly none this size. The photos were large, eight by ten inches, and it took Ivy a moment to understand what she was looking at. Her stomach dropped and nausea bloomed in her throat as she looked at the shaking pictures.

They were her, taken just yesterday. They were pictures of Ivy jogging to her car with Blake’s phone in her hand. She remembered this. But who had taken the picture? The image was grainy and the detail fuzzy. From the angle she could see that they must have been in her neighbor's bushes. A chill ran down her back as she thought about what this meant.

She quickly flicked through the photos in the set. There were about ten of them, all of Ivy. Close-ups of her face and breasts. She felt cold as she looked at them. She had no idea someone had been looking at her or taking her picture.

Chapter Eleven

Ivy worked in an old building downtown. It was a large glass building with an elegant marble staircase. This sign above the door said Adkins Financial Consulting. Blake pulled open the door and walked into the bright building.

“Good morning. Welcome to Adkins Financial Consulting, can I help you?” a perky assistant asked Blake as he strode up to her desk. She gave him a quick once over and smiled.

“Yeah. I don’t have an appointment, but I was hoping to see Ivy McCormick. I’m an old friend of hers. My name is Blake Lambert.”

“Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll see if Ms. McCormick is available,” the receptionist said. Blake nodded and took a seat as he picked up an
Entertainment Weekly
. And there it was on page fifteen: the upcoming fight everyone was going to to be talking about, Lambert vs. Johnson for the lightweight division. If Blake won this fight he would be nationally ranked in the top five.

He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to spend this much time with Ivy before a fight. He needed to prepare his mental game, as well. He couldn’t be thinking about her while he was in the ring. But he did have an actual financial question and she was a financial expert. In truth, he had no one else to turn to.

No, that was a lie. In truth he wanted to see her. After he sent Amy home he began to wonder why they couldn't be together. Because they might break up? What if they didn’t? And even if they did they could still be civil. There was no way a relationship between Blake and Ivy needed to end the relationship between their parents. But he wasn’t quite sure how he was going to convince Ivy.

“Mr. Lambert,” the receptionist called over. “Ms. McCormick is free if you want to go straight back and to the left.”

Blake nodded and smiled at the receptionist as he walked into the office and turned at a sign for Ivy McCormick’s office.

“Holy crap!” He heard a male voice call from his left. “Are you Blake Lambert?” Blake turned and looked over at a tall looking guy hurrying over to her. “Man, your fight against Romero was amazing! Well worth the price!” The guy slapped Blake on the back and then pulled out his cellphone. “Mind if I get a snap of the two of us?”

Before he knew it Blake was being pulled into a photo and smiling into the reverse lens. He was used to this kind of thing by now, but it was always strange when it happened in offices.

“Tom, what are you doing?” Ivy demanded as she appeared in the doorway. “That is so unprofessional.”

“Sorry,” Tom said. “But it was worth it. And I’m am putting money on you, Lambert. So you better win.”

“I don’t plan to lose,” Blake answered.

“Awesome,” Tom said and he raised his hand and Blake complied giving him a high five as Ivy shook her head in disapproval.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Ivy said as she ushered Blake into her office.

“No worries. I’m used to it,” Blake said as he sat down in a chair on the other side of her large desk.

“How can I help you?” Ivy asked and, for a moment, he didn’t say anything. She was fiddling with everything on her desk moving Post-it notes and pens for no reason.

“I got this offer and my accountant thinks it’s a good idea, but I’m still not sure about it. Would you look at it for me?” Blake asked.

“Sure,” Ivy said, the surprise audible in her voice. Blake handed her a thin pile of paper and Ivy quickly began to scan through the pages. “It’s the financials for an endorsement deal.”

“Yeah, they’re offering me the choice of stock options and a lower promotional fee, or no options and a higher fee for myself. But I don’t know if I’m ready to co-own a company. I don’t really care about the drink company.”

“You won’t have any say in the running of the company,” Ivy explained. “You’ll be more like an investor and your initial investment is your cut in pay. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, but do I want to do that?” Blake asked. “Wouldn’t it be better to take the money up front?”

“It depends on the company. Let’s check their five-year outlook.” Together she broke down the terms of the contract with Blake, explaining every line of it to him. But the one thing she couldn’t do was tell him which offer to take. They were both good; Blake was making decent amount of money and he was determined to be smart with it.

“So, if I go with the stocks I could make more money later. But the company could go under and I could lose my investment. Or I could take all my money up front and not have to worry about it.”

“That’s how it breaks down,”  Ivy answered.

“So which do I go with?”

“It’s up to you,” Ivy said.

“But what would you recommend?”

“I would go with the stock. The company is doing well and looking to expand. But the decision is yours to make and you have lots of time to think about it.”

“Thanks,” Blake answered taking the papers back. “It’s nice to know I have someone I can trust with stuff like this. I like my manager and my accountant, but I don’t trust them like I trust you.”

“Sure, anytime.”

“So, the fight is coming up. I can still get you tickets. It’s great, Ivy. It’s a real party. You might have fun.”

“I don’t think so,” Ivy said with a shake of her head.

Blake nodded and said nothing. He wanted her there. Didn’t she understand she had nothing to worry about? “Okay,” Blake said with a nod.

He replayed that moment over and over in his mind in the days leading up to the fight. He trained hard, pumping weights, punching the bag, and jogging every morning. But he couldn’t stop thinking about that conversation. He should have pressed her more. He should have asked why she didn’t want to go. But all he could do was hear himself say okay and leave.

He focused on not letting the crowd get to him. There were over one thousand people in the stadium. It was being aired on HBO and in countries all over the world. Vegas had two to one odds on Blake and he knew there was a lot of money in the air tonight. People would win or lose fortunes based on his actions in the cage.

Paulie had come to town for the fight and he massaged Blake’s shoulders and poured water into his mouth until Blake heard his name announced over the speaker. Paul slapped him on the back and Blake made his way down the aisle, throngs of screaming fans on either side of him. Some of them were cheering for him, some for Johnson.

Flashbulbs blinded him as he climbed into the cage and jumped up and down, testing the mats. He punched the air a few times and the crowd went wild. But it wasn’t for him. Johnson had entered from the other ring. He was wiry and he snarled as he walked towards the cage. The crowd loved that. Blake looked at his opponent as everything around him quieted and dimmed and the only thing he saw was Johnson.

The crowd didn’t matter. The money didn’t matter. The cheers didn’t matter. The boos didn’t matter. Blake was here for one thing and one thing only. He was here to win. He would not lose. He would not quit. He was going to win this fight.

Johnson entered the ring and the ref stood between them and blew his whistle and they waited for him to exit the cage. Johnson threw a quick hit at Blake, but Blake blocked it and jabbed back. But Johnson was ready for him. They were just testing each other now, searching for weaknesses trying to find a pattern of hits that would work.

He heard a woman scream out, “I love you, Blake.”

He blinked twice as he was driven back by Johnson’s drive. He pulled his hands up to protect his face as Johnson rained blows down. Finally, he took a break and Blake was ready with a kick to the head. He was ready for it, though, and leaned away, rolling over quickly and jumping back up to his feet.

“I love you, Blake!” the woman screamed again. But then it wasn’t some stranger’s voice. It was Ivy’s. The memory hit him like a stack of bricks, Ivy whispering the words as Blake kissed her neck. He missed the hit from Johnson, landing right on the left side of his face and Blake stumbled back. He was zapped back into the moment; he was back at the fight. He was off balance and he was slipping back. He needed to stay upright or he was going to lose. He got his feet under him and blocked Johnson’s hits as best he could. But Johnson managed to connect a few more hits to Blake’s face and he felt a sharp cut form on his left cheek. His nerves were jangled and he gave an uppercut to Johnson, a hit to the stomach, and then a swift kick to his side. Blake kept hitting and punching and he didn’t stop until Johnson was on the ground.

Blake stood heaving for breath as the world spun in front of him. The ref appeared and raised his hand and he heard the roar of the crowd. He was out of breath and shaking. He had almost lost the fight. Ivy was in his brain and he didn't know how he was going to get her out.