Harlequin Superromance March 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: The Secrets of Her Past\A Real Live Hero\In Her Corner (70 page)

“It's all on the record. Mrs. H. will provide all the details if you give her a call.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Look, I know you don't want any kind of accounting or favors or anything, but hear me out. You've worked in this industry a long time, and I thought about some of the stuff you said. There's still lots of work to be done. Which is why I'd love to have you on board and hear more of your ideas—you'd be a huge asset to the UFF.”

Her lips trembled. She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. “Thank you, Hadrian. But I do love my job. As much as I go through...”

He patted her hand but didn't let his touch linger. “I understand.”

And he did. That was as much as he could do for her. He had to accept that and move on.

Quinn stared at him in surprise, at a loss for words. Together, they watched the cranes hoist the UFF banners into the air.

Maybe one day, when she saw he was serious, they could move on together.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“L
INE
ONE
,”
L
IZ
SAID
. “It's Hadrian Blackwell.”

Kyle closed his eyes as a slightly sick feeling swamped him. He'd been expecting this call since the day Bella had stormed out. Maybe he'd been expecting it for even longer. He tried to gauge the UFF president's mood from the look on Liz's face, but her expression was stone-cold.

He headed for his office and shut the door. Time to get this over with.

“Peters.” Hadrian sounded like he was greeting a man at a funeral. “How are you?”

“Fine, all things considered.” Not fine. Not in the least. In the two and a half weeks since Bella had left, all he'd been able to think about was how he'd screwed up. He hadn't even been able to find Bella to apologize.

A sudden horrible thought popped into his head: What if Hadrian was calling because Bella was hurt? What if she'd been hit by a car because she was so stubborn she'd started biking again? “Have you found Bella? Is she all right?” Panic seized him.

“She's training in a secret location with her brother Marco and her father, Carlos.”

Kyle slumped back. “Good. That's good.” Kyle was surprised and pleased by this bit of news. He knew her relationship with her family had been strained.

“Good?” Disbelief and ire torqued Hadrian's tone. “You think it's good that a star fighter has left an official UFF gym days before her first big fight? Do you have any idea how that looks?”

“That's my fault. I take full responsibility.” He was prepared to pay for his mistakes. But he couldn't say he regretted his relationship with Bella.

He waited for the ax to fall. He could move back to California, maybe, and work as a private coach, or...

“That may be so, but I'm not firing you yet, Peters.”

It took Kyle a moment to process his words. “Meaning what, exactly?”

“Meaning I happen to be in a good mood. If I'd left this to the board to decide, you'd be out. But as far as I'm concerned, what happened between you and Bella is a personal matter. That doesn't excuse your behavior, though. When your private life affects my business, it sure as hell isn't private anymore. You and I are going to have a discussion eventually, but not until the anniversary card is over.”

So he had a reprieve. That was something, he supposed, but he was far from relieved.

“Did you see that piece Quinn Bourdain wrote last week?” Hadrian asked after a beat.

“No.”

“She wrote that Bella insisted you were a good coach and a good gym manager. She said everything that happened was a misunderstanding. Personally,” he added emphatically, “I think she's too blind to see that you don't appreciate her the way she appreciates you. You don't deserve her.”

He wanted to puke. How could she defend him after all the crap he'd put her through? How could she forgive him? “I guess I don't.”

“You're coming to Vegas for the fight.” The UFF president jumped back to business. “You're going to show up and act like nothing's wrong. Payette's needs to be seen as supporting Bella all the way. According to Quinn, Bella's father and brother are going to be her cornermen. Imagine how that'll look when the graphics go up and they say ‘fighting out of New Orleans' without a single rep from Payette's in her corner.”

“If she has her family at her side, at least the world knows the Fiores are taking her seriously.”

“I don't give a crap if they're a happy family, Kyle. I care about my business. I need Bella to be the champion. Kamino's great, but she's not the star I'd hoped for. If Bella loses, the women's division goes under.”

Kyle scowled. “Bella can win. I have every confidence in her.”

“Confidence gets you shit all right now. It should be you in that corner with her, Peters.”

Hadrian was right. It should be him. Even after all they had shared, he'd still pushed her away. He'd be lucky if he ever got to be a part of her life again.

The thought that he might
not
squeezed the air from his lungs. They'd shared more than sex. He'd told her things he'd never told anyone. Hell, he'd cried in front of her. He'd never trusted anyone like that before. His father hadn't permitted it—emotions weren't something men expressed or felt.

Kyle ground his jaw. He'd do as Hadrian asked, but not for him or his career or the UFF. “I'll do what it takes, sir.”

“Make sure you do. She might not want you, but she sure as hell needs you for this fight if she wants to be champ.” Hadrian hung up.

* * *

I
T
WAS
BRISK
for February in Las Vegas, but Kyle was certain his reception would be even frostier than the temperature. As he made his way to the MGM Grand for the weigh-in, all he could focus on was Bella and how this would be the place where his future with her would be decided.

The sectioned-off portion of the arena bustled with media, cameras and cameramen. Fans swarmed the gallery, and the air buzzed with excitement. Officials hovered over a scale, testing and retesting it, while other techs moved microphones and other apparatuses.

Kyle wended his way backstage, spotting grim-faced members of Kamino's camp guarding a door. The young champion would be in her locker room, waiting for the weigh-in to start. This wait could be brutal because frequently, fighters would not eat or drink anything twelve hours in advance. They couldn't risk going a fraction of an ounce over the target weight. Every ounce over meant a percentage taken off their paycheck or, worse, disqualification.

He worried about Bella. She'd been working hard, and he'd had her on a strict diet, but he had no idea what she'd been doing since she left. Not having control made him crazy.

He shook his head. He'd given up control the moment he'd decided to have a relationship with her. Control of any relationship was an illusion.

Eventually, he found out where Team Fiore's locker room was. A beefy security guy stood outside.

“I'm Kyle Peters. I'm with the team,” he said, but the guy put a strong hand on his shoulder and backed him off.

“Sorry, no visitors.”

“I said I'm with the team.”

“Bella's in there alone.” Kyle recognized the voice. He'd spoken with Marco Fiore over the phone, but never met him in person until now. Kyle saw that they were about the same height, but Marco was leaner. He shared Bella's raven-black hair, but his eyes were a shade grayer than her brilliant emerald-green. “She wants to be left alone.”

He stuck out a hand. “I'm Kyle Peters.”

“I know.”

He retracted his hand. “Listen, I'm just here to make amends and offer my help.”

“I think you've helped her enough.” Marco met him chest to chest. “If you know what's good for you, you'll leave before my father arrives. I have a lot more control than he does when it comes to guys like you.”

“I'm not leaving.” He folded his arms. “I'm waiting right here for Bella. I'll shout through the door if that's what it takes for her to hear me.”

“Marco, o que está acontecendo?”
An older man Kyle instantly recognized as Brazilian jujitsu master and seven-time world champion Carlos Fiore strode toward them. His eyes narrowed on him. “You.”

Kyle put his hands up as the older man advanced. “Respectfully, Mr. Fiore, I'm here to apologize to—”

He didn't get another word out as Carlos grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall. Someone gave a shout, and a ring of spectators formed around them. The bodyguard melted into the background, content to watch, it seemed. Even Marco backed away.

Kyle struggled to go limp. If he was going to take his licks, best make himself soft. They might be evenly matched, but he was not going to fight Bella's dad.

“You stay away from my family.” His knuckles ground against Kyle's collarbone painfully. “You don't speak to my daughter ever again. You break her heart, I break your face. Understand?”

“I'm not worthy of her,” Kyle gritted. “I know that. I never meant to hurt her, but I did and I was wrong to do it. I want her to hear that from me.”

“
Papai,
what's going on?” Bella poked her head through the door. Kyle's heart lurched. Her lips pulled down in a steep frown and she stepped farther out. “What are you doing here?” she asked Kyle irately.

“I'm here to support you.” Carlos dug his fists in harder, and he winced. “I got stopped.”

The senior Fiore said something harshly to Bella in Portuguese, and she snapped back at him. Reluctantly, he let go.

“Come in, Kyle.” Bella went back through the door. Kyle slid sideways past both Carlos and Marco, and he could feel the hostility radiating off them. If it ever came to blows, Kyle would be in for a hell of a knuckle-duster.

When the door shut, the hubbub subsided. The small locker room sported the usual wooden benches and cubbies. The floor had been padded with clean, new-smelling rubber mats. High up in one corner, a TV showed muted feed from the press area where the weigh-ins would take place. This would be the room she'd occupy for tomorrow's fight.

She sat on the ground cross-legged and glared at him expectantly.

“How are you doing?” he asked, suddenly nervous.

“Let's see. I haven't eaten anything other than green smoothies for the past five days, and have had nothing since lunch yesterday. Dad's made me spit into a cup for the past twelve hours to cut the last few ounces. I've got a headache and I have to face the crowd and the media looking like I've been wrung through a washing machine, and now you're here, getting into fights with my family. How the hell do you think I'm doing?”

If he was worried about being on her bad side, at least now he was reassured that he couldn't get on a side that was any worse. “What's your weight at?” That was not the question he wanted to jump to, but he couldn't help inquiring.

“Since this morning, 144.8.” She closed her eyes. “I'm going to have a strawberry milkshake, a steak and fries with a fried egg and bacon on top right after this.”

He chuckled. Her gaze snapped to him, her irritation clear, and he slammed his lips closed.

“Tell me what you came to say, Kyle. I'm not in the mood to be nice.”

He sat on the bench on the opposite side of the room. “I came to apologize.”

She waved a hand in dismissal. “You're forgiven.”

“No. I can't let you forgive me that easily. I want you to know that I know what I did wrong. That I've been thinking a lot about...what happened to me—” he rubbed him palms over his knees, feeling the old ache creep back in “—and what happened between us. I was wrong to say the things I did.”

“I got your note.” The pause let him know she'd read it, probably more than once. And as the silence dragged on, it was as if she were acknowledging in her own taciturn way that she'd understood everything he'd meant to say, everything he'd striven to infuse in between the inadequate words and limp emotion twenty-six letters could produce.

Hope rose within him. She drew her knees up, refusing to meet his eye. “If I were in a better mood, I would say I'm sorry for calling you all those nasty things. But I don't have the brain space to feel remorse or dwell on anything else. I can't deal with drama right now. So I forgive you, and I hope you forgive me. Now, are you done?”

He felt a stab of pain lance through his chest. No. He wasn't. He needed to tell her she was right—he had issues. He wanted to tell her that he was willing to work through those issues—that he'd never be able to move on until he did. He wanted to tell her that when she won that belt he would do whatever it took to make her understand that his feelings for her—

Yes, he had feelings for her. Deeper than he'd first admitted. Being in Bella's inner sanctum now after what felt like an eternity apart from her settled something inside him. Made him feel...complete. Like this was the place he belonged. Dad would say that was just plain corny and probably would've smacked him in the back of the head. Nonetheless his emotions swelled, and with it, a flurry of words raced up his throat.

But he couldn't tell her everything right now—that would be selfish of him. Fighting Kamino was the only thing Bella had room for in her head. Any distraction could mean a quick and brutal end, like what had happened in the exhibition match in New Orleans. He couldn't risk being the cause of another humiliation for her.

And he couldn't stand in her corner.

“Yeah. Good luck out there, Bella,” he said. “I'm glad your father and brother are here for you. You couldn't ask for better cornermen.”

With that he left. There was nothing else Kyle could say right now—he had a whole host of issues to deal with first. He'd apologized, but that didn't make him worthy of Bella yet.

* * *

T
HE
MOMENT
THE
door closed behind Kyle, Bella slumped over, chest aching, stomach hollowed out from more than hunger.
There. It's done.
Kyle had apologized, but that was it. He hadn't even said he still wanted to be friends. He'd come here to clear his conscience and then he left.

You're free now,
a quiet, determined voice inside told her.
You have the biggest fight of your life in front of you. Kyle doesn't need to be a part of that—he never wanted to be in the first place.

If she had any water in her body, tears might have fallen freely. Instead, she felt achy all over, as if she'd taken a beating.

“Bella?” Her father stuck his head past the door. “You all right? It's almost time.”

“Sim, Papai.”

He scowled. “Did that Kyle Peters say something? Did he hurt you?”