Claiming The Prize (18 page)

Grace had been introduced to Josip, a
sparring partner for the amateur fighters that trained in Drago's
gym, at their wedding.

“
Well, I haven't talked to
him in weeks!
You know, I've been working on my fashion shoots.
I
had heard you were to marry, but I had no idea it was to be so
soon.
I had thought perhaps it was a rumor,” she
laughed.

“
It is very nice to meet
you, Ranelle,” Grace said politely.

“
Likewise,” was the curt
reply.
“I'd love to stay and chat, but I'm on my way to meet with
friends.”

Donning expensive sunglasses she
fished from her oversized handbag, Ranelle Igrec strutted
away.

Grace had never been
insecure or jealous, but she was affected.
Ranelle could easily be
a runway model with her height and stunning face.
Grace may not
know this woman at all, but she was certain that this was exactly
the type of woman who would aggressively pursue her husband.
Knowing the foolishness of comparing herself against others, she
wanted to push the thoughts from her mind.
But deep inside, she
felt ill-equipped to compete against such luring beauty.

Grace was small with an athletic
build, she was skilled in jujitsu, she was knowledgeable in the
areas of training for a fight, she was sweet Gracie – who the
fighters loved like a younger sister.

Until Drago.

She banished the ridiculous thoughts
at remembering how Drago looked at her.
Smiling again and more
composed, she turned to him.

“
Are you ready to continue
my grand tour?”

“
This way,” he
gestured.

They wandered a few blocks, casually
strolling as they looked around and turned onto a wider street,
which was much busier.
Long awnings of heavy, brown canvas reached
out over the sidewalks, protecting the fresh fruits and vegetables
heaped in crates upon folding tables of various sizes and heights.
Faintly, the homey smell of baking bread filled the air.

“
Tell me what you want,
Grace,” he said, “and we will find it here.”

Grace looked at each vendor's stall
before informing Drago of her wants, and he haggled over prices
across the barriers of produce, always coming away with the items
she requested.
She laughed at the repetitive gesticulations the
ruse of bargaining brought on at each stand, aware of the similar
exchanges occurring all around them, all of which was infinitely
more interesting than any grocery store shopping she had done in
the States.

Having enough produce for the next few
days, they entered a small bakery.
A plump woman with a wide face
and sturdy arms from years of kneading greeted them from behind the
glass counter-top.
They scanned the rounded loaves of hearty breads
pointing out their choice, which sent the babushka topped head of
the older woman bending to retrieve it.
Wrapping the loaf in brown
paper, she waited as they selected a few more items.

Their last stop was the butcher's
shop, and here, Drago was greeted with familiarity.

“
Zadrovec!
Come in, come
in,” a great bear of a man boomed.

His curly salt and peppered hair
battled for freedom with the white cap tied around it.
The two
shook hands vigorously and exchanged a few words Grace knew to be
her introduction when Drago looked at her, pulling her close to him
as the thick, black haired arms of the meat-cutter grasped hers
jovially.

“
Congratulations to you
both!
Now what can I get for you today?”

His broken English was spoken with a
kindness and affection that endeared him to Grace at once.
Drago
made a few purchases, and then the two talked as the meat was
wrapped in the waxy butcher paper, the man eager for details of
Drago's victory in his latest bout.

He addressed Grace proudly.

“
I was once a fighter, too.
As a young man I boxed.
But as you can see, that was many years
ago.”

He pointed to a few old black and
white photos pinned to the white wall behind him.

“
Impressive, sir!”
Grace
offered with a grin.
“Surely it wasn't that long ago!”

His hearty laughter filled the
store.

“
I am afraid it was!
But
for your kindness, I'll throw in something special on the
house.”

He winked at her and disappeared into
the back room before returning and adding another package to her
bundle.

Concluding the short visit, they
gathered their purchases and departed for home.

Dusk was falling over the city as they
walked toward home, and Drago and Grace welcomed the sight of their
comfortable abode, both ready for an evening of relaxation before a
crackling fire.

Grace curled on the sofa, steaming mug
warming her hands, and Drago, satisfied that the fire would sustain
itself, came alongside her.
This weekend would be their final days
hidden away from the world.
The last of the calm before the
storm.

Drago wanted to prepare Grace for the
sudden changes that would besiege them in the coming months.
He had
defeated his opponent in his AMMAO debut, but that was but one step
in the marathon that stretched before him.
He would fight again in
six months, this time against a more skilled adversary.
Intensive
training would consume his time and energy over the next
twenty-four weeks, and the media barrage would steal what was left.
Grace had seen the training side of this life, but Guy was a behind
the scenes trainer; he was able to avoid much of the camera's
spotlight.
Drago had to make certain Grace was ready for the public
attention they were likely to be subjected to.
This perspective had
come in the form of a warning from Guy himself in the days leading
up to their marriage.

Guy Antolini was nothing if not a
master strategist, and Drago trusted the man's keen instincts.
The
up and coming, explosive, Slovakian fighter marrying the daughter
of an American kickboxing legend whose expert training was in high
demand – and came at a premium price – would be a double edged
sword.
It suggested dynasty building.

Guy was convinced that at first the
couple would be hailed as the darlings of the AMMAO, provided Drago
secured further victories, but he advised the young Slovak to be
prepared for the darker side of the equation.
His motives for
pursuing Grace would be questioned.
His every interaction would be
scrutinized, as would his wife's.
There would be constant
speculation over whether the marriage was a solid union or a
Machiavellian move orchestrated by Drago, or even Guy.
Guy advised
Drago to share all these concerns with Grace before they surfaced,
knowing his daughter's ability to stand in the face of adversity,
but unwilling to allow surprise to leave any fertile ground for the
seeds of doubt to take root.

Drago broached the topic frankly and
explained his concerns while Grace listened intently.

“
I prefer to stay out of
the public eye, Drago.
Of course, photos will be taken when we are
out together, but I see no reason for me to speak with any
reporters.
The last thing I want is to see my words in some twisted
quote.”

“
There may come a time when
you are asked a direct question,” he noted.

“
I suppose you're right,”
she conceded.
“I'll be brief and smile a lot.
It'll be enough to
satisfy curiosity, I imagine.
As for the speculation and rumor that
may surround our marriage, I don't plan to defend or deny any of
it.
Let them wonder.
Our marriage is our concern, and business is
business.
I've no desire to read the reports and articles that may
swirl about anyway.”

“
Neither do I.
As I told
you the night before our wedding, Grace, it is your trust and
confidence I need.
As long as I have that, I can concentrate on my
training.”

“
Do that, then, without
giving it another thought.”

The finality of her statement made
plain, Drago added his last request.

“
Promise me you will come
to me if there is ever anything...,” he paused, touching her face.
“I want nothing to stand between us.”

“
I will, Drago,” she
promised.

They sat together in shared
contemplation, staring into the yellow-orange glow of the dancing
firelight, content in the peace of one another's arms.

Chapter 11

A crisp chill permeated the dawn,
leaving Grace wistful over the loss of her husband's warmth from
their bed.
Their honeymoon had passed so quickly, and Grace was not
ready to share her lover with the world just yet.
She would not
complain, as she knew it was difficult for Drago to leave her.
He
had confessed that if not for his upcoming fight he would have
taken a month to spend alone with her.

His next opponent, Sayre Mainn, a
formidable striker with black belts in both jujitsu and judo, would
be a test of Drago's skill.
A win would prove that he did more than
merely get lucky in his late first-round knockout against Matt
Harrison and put the rumors to rest.
Grace understood that Drago
needed to train, and she would not hinder his efforts.
When a
fighter's wife didn't support him, one of two things happened – the
marriage ended or the fighter's career ended.
Grace had never seen
another result.
The pressure of conflict in the home usually
produced a loss in the ring.

She'd married a fighter.
She would
make the best of the consuming schedule, she decided resolutely,
smiling at the thought of his return to her each evening.
Her next
thought was what she would do with herself all day.
A trip to the
dairy shop would fill her morning.
Preparing lunch would occupy a
little more time.
Wondering if Drago would break in the afternoon
for any length of time, Grace realized she needed a
schedule.

After a wonderfully hot shower, she
readied for her first outing alone in the city.
The old, painted
dressing table and mirror already felt familiar, and it pleased her
to know that Drago had prepared so thoughtfully for her comfort.
Navy blue cargo pants and a team Anto-Engage sweater over a white
turtleneck seemed a good choice to face the cool weather, she
thought with a final glance in the large mirror.
Grabbing her coat,
hat, and gloves, Grace set out.
Exiting their apartment, she
descended the stairs and could hear the activity in the gym below.
Over her chest and shoulder hung the canvas bag for toting items
from the market, for she did not want to walk alone on unfamiliar
streets with her arms occupied.

Drago's voice found her ears, and an
involuntary flutter of excitement coursed through her.
Reaching the
vestibule on the first floor, Grace donned her hat and gloves
before facing the elements.

“
Where are you off to?”
Drago asked.

She smiled, happy to see
him.

“
I'm going to attempt to
find that little dairy market.
How is your morning
going?”

The damp, dark hair and red cheeks
proclaimed the productivity of the session.

“
It goes well.”
He grinned
and leaned closer.
“Will you be back in time for lunch?”

“
Yes.
I'll have something
ready for you.
Will you break for the afternoon, then?”

“
I will be free from noon
until three-thirty.
Hurry back.”

Grace sensed his teasing mood.
Opening
the door, she hurried onto the sidewalk, eager to complete her
errand and return.

Retracing the route Drago had shown
her, Grace clipped along towards her destination.
She passed the
city blocks, studying the quaint exteriors and passersby with bold
curiosity.
The tiny dairy front came into view quickly, and bells
tinkled as she opened the glass door.
The old green and white
checkered floor shone from a fresh scrubbing, and a young mother
looked up from the small table she stood beside.
Two little girls
stared up from the low seats where they had been busily
coloring.

A greeting was offered, but Grace
smiled and shook her head apologetically.

“
English?”
she
inquired.

“
Ah, yes!”
the woman
responded cheerily.

Grace retrieved the list from her bag
and offered it to the slim woman.

“
Can you help me find these
items, please?”

“
This is no problem.
Come
and look.”

The woman browsed the long narrow
aisles until the items were gathered.
It took only a few
minutes.

“
I am Anja,” the woman
stated.
“And you?”

“
Hello, Anja.
I'm
Grace.”

“
Are you visiting
Bratislava?”
she inquired as she rang out the purchases on an old
adding machine.

“
I very recently moved to
the area,” Grace replied.

“
Welcome!
I hope you will
be happy here.
Will you drink tea?”

Not entirely sure if this was a
regular custom or if it was offered because she was new to the
store, Grace accepted the kind offer.
Even with Anja's broken
English, communication flowed easily between the pair as they
shared a little about themselves, and Grace was touched at the open
hospitality shown to a stranger.
Over a glass of hot tea, she
learned that Anja and her husband had taken over the store from her
parents and lived above it with their two daughters.

Their glasses emptied, Grace paid the
bill and loaded her satchel.

“
I hope you will come again
next week.
If you arrive at nine, a few neighborhood friends will
be here for tea.
You can meet them,” Anja invited.

“
Thank you, that sounds
wonderful.
I'll try to come, Anja, and maybe I'll make something to
share.”

Grace was overwhelmed.
Encouraged at
the prospect of forming friendships in her new surroundings, she
headed for home with a hint of belonging blooming inside her heart.
The walk home passed quickly as her thoughts consumed her.
She was
eager to explain what had transpired to Drago over
lunch.

Rounding the corner to her home's
street, Grace reflected on all that she had to be thankful for.
A
new husband whom she adored, a lovely home, welcoming family, and
new acquaintances – such goodness!
She had been apprehensive at the
prospect of living thousands of miles from her father and all she
had ever known.
In truth, she had been a little fearful that she
would feel isolated and too dependent on Drago.
Today's events
reassured her that this transition promised much good in spite of
her fears.

Entering the gym, Grace Zadrovec was
confronted with a tense atmosphere.
A tall, blond woman stood in
the foyer with her arms folded across her chest.
Wisps of honey
colored hair hung around her face, the rest piled on her head in an
elaborate up do.
Flawless, pale skin surrounded large, aquamarine
eyes, and her full lips were pursed into a sultry pout.
Black
stockings covered her long, thin legs up to the camel-hued, wool
dress coat cinched snugly at the waist.

“
Josip!”
the woman snapped,
“Why are you not ready?
You've forgotten, no?”

The impatience in her voice was noted
immediately.

“
Anika, sweetheart, the
party is hours away,” Josip soothed as he hurried to her.
“There is
plenty of time.
Do not upset yourself.”

Josip Igrec, tall and solid, was built
like a bull.
He had a presence of body that did not fit the
catering persona Grace now witnessed.
Black hair was cropped close
to his dark head, and his face was shadowed by whiskers.
He was not
impressively handsome, but there was a blatant masculinity about
him.
Grace, remembering her encounter with his sister, wondered at
his dark features compared to her fairness.
The trait the siblings
did share was their ice-blue eyes, and she supposed that striking
feature was the only physical similarity between the brother and
sister.

“
Don't aggravate me more
with your nonsense.
Ugh!
You're sweaty and smelly.
Don't touch me,”
she hissed.
“Go shower or something.
And don't take all
day!”

Josip leaned over to kiss her cheek,
which Anika accepted with a look of disgust before he headed up the
stairs to the showers.

“
All right, Anika, all
right.”

Grace, waiting for a break in the
exchange, took the opening to excuse herself and started for the
stairs.
Anika was staring at her.

“
Hello,” Grace
greeted.

“
Are you delivering
something?
Because I don't work here,” Anika stated
flatly.

“
Oh, no,” Grace replied
with a smile, thinking the flustered woman misunderstood.
“I'm
Grace, Drago's wife.
You must be Anika.”

A look of something like amusement
passed over the woman's face, making Grace rather uncomfortable.
But it was gone in a flash, replaced with mock
innocence.

“
Ah, the American who
managed to land our Drago.”

The thin veneer of civility
was transparent, and Grace knew that the phrase
our Drago
was meant to put her in
her place.
The place of an outsider.

Anika continued without
blinking.

“
I suppose it suits him,
marrying to further his career.
How lucky for him that Guy Antolini
had an unmarried daughter.”

The cat-like smile betrayed her
pleasure at the cutting remark.

Grace stiffened slightly.
If this
woman wanted to engage in a game of tactics, Grace would oblige
her.

“
What ever would make you
think that?”
Grace baited with her own mock innocence.

“
Why, darling,” she
condescended, “Drago could have any beautiful woman he wanted.
He
has certainly sampled more than his share, yet he married
you.”

Grace, thankful for the
years of watching her father skillfully maneuver around adversaries
in the business, replied with dripping sweetness, “How lucky for me
that he found those
samples
so very lacking.”

She smiled as she started up the
stairs.
Looking back at the astonished Anika as she attempted to
regain herself, Grace dismissed her before the woman could think of
a reply.

“
Have a good time at your
party, Anika.”

Anika Oreskovic had not anticipated
the possibility that the tiny American would throw down the
gauntlet, but she had.
Then she cheered, knowing they would meet
again.
Tapping her high-heeled foot, she yelled, “Josip, what's
taking you so long?”

* * *

Closing the door softly, Grace hung
her coat and set the bag on the table.
Her body shook from the
confrontation downstairs.
Comforted that she had held herself
together during the exchange with Anika, she now released the pent
up emotions swirling inside her.
Angry tears spilled down her
cheeks as Anika's words echoed in her ears, taunting her.
She did
not believe that Drago had married her to further his career, but
the words cut anyway.
It pained her that this was probably
whispered behind her back, that some would think Drago the sort of
man to execute such a plan.
But she had known that rumor would
circulate.
But to have it boldly thrown in her face was
infuriating!

What bothered her more was the thought
of Drago with another woman.
Other women.
Women like Anika.
Would
her life be filled with encounters like the one today?