Chapter 14

The weigh-in was scheduled to take place at a nearby hotel the day before the fight. The street and lobby were swarming with media as well as fans. Rodrigo was already there with his entourage. He was in sweatpants and a shirt that clung to his body, and his head and face were freshly shaved. He was tall and imposing and completely in the zone, seemingly oblivious to what was going on around him. Tony, on the other hand, was relaxed and confident, playful and cocky, and as always, he played to the fans who were there as well as the media. But Francesca knew him well enough already to understand that it was an act.

He’d been on liquids only for the last two days, since he was worried about making weight. That morning as he was shaving off his beard, she’d heard a loud “Fuck!” from the bathroom.

Francesca had run into the bathroom. “What happened?”

He was blotting the corner of his jaw with paper. “Cut myself.”

She took the razor from his hands. “Give me that before you really do some harm.”

“I need to shave,” he practically growled.

“I hope this isn’t so you can make weight.” She laughed. “It won’t help much.”

He grunted a response.

“Honey, you’ve done a good job. You’ll make weight.” She turned his face toward her and began to shave his face carefully.

“I missed over a week of training.”

“No. You missed five days of training, and you were sick—that’s a valid reason. You’ve made up for that the last few days, and you were doing great before you got sick. You’ll be fine.”

He didn’t respond, and she continued to shave him without talking. When she finished she ran her fingers across his smooth skin. “I have to admit, I think I’ll miss the beard.” She reached up to touch his face, but he grabbed her wrist.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“What?”

“I see that look. You know the rules. I’m on dick lockout.”

She huffed. “Don’t tell me you believe in that no-sex rule.”

“Believe? It’s a fact, not a myth. You shouldn’t have sex for at least two weeks before a fight. That ship’s obviously sailed, but the day before, it’s a must.”

She stepped back and crossed her arms. “It’s a myth, honey. Explain the logic behind it.”

“We need the testosterone buildup in our bodies. Plus everyone knows women suck all the energy out of men, and you would be even worse than other women. Because, well…because you’re you.”

“I can’t believe you’re going to leave me all hot and bothered.”

He gave her his smile. “Just because I can’t get some doesn’t mean you can’t.” He lifted her up and threw her over his shoulder, and she yelped and laughed.

“Tony! What are you doing?”

“I haven’t had a meal in two days—I’m starving!” he growled, looking completely predatory.

He was hungry? Well, she admitted, he was practically fasting. “Uh…okay. You want me to make you a protein shake or something?”

“Nope.” He put a knee on the bed and reached for the top of her jeans. He unbuttoned and unzipped them.

“Tony!” She tried to fend him off. “I thought you couldn’t have sex. I thought you were hungry.”

“Ravenous.” He tugged her jeans off, almost causing her to fall off the bed. Her panties came off too. Without any further conversation, his eyes homed in on her pussy. He pulled her thighs apart and reached under her, pulling her ass up, and then he was…there. His tongue licked along her pussy from bottom to top, then he began to suck on her clit, hard and unrelenting. Every time she squirmed, he held her down tighter.

“Oh my God!” she yelled.

“No. Not God, Tony.”

“Tony!” she yelled again, her head thrashing from side to side and her hands fisting the sheets. Then he pushed two fingers inside and nipped her clit with his teeth, and she came completely undone.

She heard faint laughter but was too weak and sated to figure out what was going on. A few minutes later, she opened one eye to see Tony’s smug face close to hers.

She glared at him, and he laughed again. “What’s so funny?”

“Fuck, woman, you said so many curse words in English and in Portuguese that I almost had to bust out the handy English-Portuguese translation app on my phone.”

“Shut up,” she said lazily. “That was so good, but now I just want to sleep for three days.”

“And that’s why I can’t have sex before a fight.”

She turned over, her hands under a pillow and her legs tucked under her body. She sighed contentedly. “Point made.”

He laughed, covered her, and kissed her forehead before heading out for a jog. He needed a distraction from the world’s worst case of blue balls.

Now, at the weigh-in, she knew firsthand that the self-assured Tony the media were interviewing was just a façade. He wasn’t as confident as he led everyone to believe.

Tony was up first. The scale was in the middle of a small stage, the blown-up promotional poster of the fight the backdrop. Tony took off his Worth the Fight Academy shirt and gym shorts and stood in black Speedos. His body was all hard edges and muscles. The only word that came to mind was shredded. His thighs were his most impressive feature. They were huge. He stood on the scale, and Francesca couldn’t help but close her eyes. Slade stood next to her, and he too didn’t seem to be breathing. When the gaming commissioner announced Tony’s weight at 204 pounds, they both breathed in relief. Tony’s walking-around weight was around 230 pounds. Tony stepped off the scale subdued. She knew him well enough to know he was probably so relieved he couldn’t joke around about anything. He was most likely saying a silent prayer thanking every saint his mother had been praying to.

Next was Rodrigo. Rodrigo removed his black shirt with the logos of his sponsors and then his shorts, also standing in black Speedos. Rodrigo looked as big as Tony, but he was taller and leaner; where Tony’s legs looked like tree trunks, Rodrigo’s arms and neck were his most impressive features. Rodrigo never seemed overweight, so there was no surprise when his weight was announced at 201 pounds. They dressed and sat down to answer some questions. There was a lot of trash-talking and verbal sparring between the two when asked who would win and who was in better shape. All in all, the press conference went off without a hitch. When they were done, Francesca noticed Rodrigo say something to Tony, both men’s expressions serious. Then suddenly both laughed, and Tony’s hand went to Rodrigo’s shoulder.

Huh? When did they become friendly?

Tony was giving a one-on-one interview with a reporter when Rodrigo walked up to Francesca. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“How’s your dad?”

“He’s doing so much better, thank you.” She smiled. “You ready for tomorrow?”

He gave her the dimpled smile that used to do all sorts of things to her. “You know I am.”

Francesca felt an arm around her waist. She looked up and saw Tony smiling down at her. She was surprised he wasn’t looking like his normal angry, jealous self. He tucked her in close. “I wouldn’t expect any less, Rodrigo.”

“I should go rest up. You know, for all the ass kicking I’m going to be doing tomorrow.”

Tony chuckled. “I’m not going to wish you luck or anything.” There was humor in his voice when he said it.

“Never thought you would.” He tipped his chin up at Tony and winked at Francesca. “See you tomorrow.”

Francesca turned to Tony. “Since when are you two friends?”

“I wouldn’t go as far as saying we’re friends. More like friendly.”

“You ready to go home? I’m starving.”

“Oh, baby, me too.” He winked.

She playfully shoved him back. “I’m still all tingly from this morning. No more sex for anyone, since you’ve still got that no-sex-before-the-fight rule.”

“But I’m starving. Let me at least eat you,” he said softly into her ear. “Your pussy’s the sweetest, most delicious meal I’ve eaten in days.”

“That’s ’cause it’s the only meal you’ve eaten in days.”

He laughed. “This is true. But still, I need you close. If I can’t get off, at least let me get you off. Give me something here, cariño, ’cause I’m ready to explode.”

“So let me understand. You want to—”

“Eat your pussy,” he interrupted.

She stumbled a little as they walked toward his muscle car. He snickered and righted her. “Okay, so you want to do that for the good of your physical health and the fight tomorrow? In exchange, I just get to sit back and relax?”

“You mean come. In exchange you get to sit back and come.”

“All this pent-up energy is giving you a potty mouth.” He opened the car door and helped her in. “Who could resist an offer like that?”

By the time they arrived at his house, his fingers were already inside her.

Francesca had been to her fair share of professional fights, but the atmosphere today was like none other she’d ever felt. Perhaps it was because she’d never had so much at stake. Plus she was nervous for Tony. They’d done everything they possibly could to get him ready, but was he? He was thirty-four years old, after all.

While he was the old-timer in this fight, the crowd still loved him—whether he was the bad boy drinking and partying it up or the comeback kid, now sober and serious about reminding his fans why they’d fallen in love with him. The twenty-thousand-seat arena in Miami had been sold out for weeks, and the roar of the crowd was deafening. It was impossible to describe in mere words what an arena filled with twenty thousand fans felt and looked like.

The promoters who’d organized the fight had met them outside by the limo, and they were currently being escorted to the back. Cain and Travis were already there, all taped up and focused, since they had smaller-ticket fights before Tony’s main event. The rest of the team—Enzo, Slade, and Jack—looked as if they were giving the other guys some sort of pep talk.

When Tony walked into the locker room, all eyes turned to him. His hand tightened around hers. Damn it, he was nervous. She couldn’t allow that. He couldn’t doubt himself; he needed self-assurance. His arrogance would help him win. She squeezed his hand back and winked at him.

She wanted to say something snarky, something to get his blood boiling. That’s what he needed in order to win. She said the first thing that popped into her mind: “So you wore the stupid blue shorts.”

He looked down. “I love these shorts.”

“They’re loud and flashy.”

“I’m loud and flashy.”

“Yeah, I know.” She reached up and kissed his lips. “So you going to win this fight or what?”

He cocked his eyebrow. “What do I get if I win?”

“Hmmm…” She pretended to think about it. “If you win, I’ll do that thing you love.”

He grabbed her waist and drew her forward. “The thing with your mouth?”

She nodded.

“Oh, I’m totally going to kick Rodrigo’s ass!” He jumped up and down and threw a combination of punches into the air. She laughed.

“Good luck, honey. I’ll see you after the fight.” She kissed him. “I hope you didn’t pick one of those disgusting rap songs to come out to.” She winked before wishing the rest of the guys good luck and heading to the front row by the cage.

The first two fights were great for WtF, as both Cain and Travis won. Francesca was happy for them and for the gym, but she couldn’t contain her nervousness. Her leg was bobbing up and down as she waited for Tony’s fight to begin.

The entire stadium seemed to become quiet all of a sudden, and people were looking around in confusion. Ed Sheeran’s sultry voice singing about kissing and wanting to be loved and falling in love was coming out of the speakers. Her eyes glistened; this was one of her favorite songs. The crowd whistled and cheered and sang the song. It seemed more like a concert than a fight. Then Tony, notoriously boisterous and arrogant, walked out hyperfocused and almost subdued, something new for him. It was sweet and her heart fluttered, but it wasn’t Tony. He needed his normal confidence, or else she wasn’t sure if he’d win.

Right before he walked into the cage he turned to her. She knew he would, and she had a plan: she was going to say something to get him worked up. Something snarky, something challenging. But instead she blurted out the worst thing she could possibly say.

There were a few prefight rules that everyone knew, rules that all fighters knew should never be broken: (1) Don’t eat a heavy meal before a fight. (2) Don’t have sex the night before a fight. (3) Rest before a big fight. (4) Don’t do anything that would take your focus away from the fight. And what she said next was definitely a complete violation of rule number four.

Tony turned to her. “Wish me l—”

“I love you!” she blurted out, and then covered her mouth. Fuckity fuck fuck!

He didn’t say anything. He just stared.

Way to ruin his concentration, Francesca. Great job!

The crowd was making a ruckus, but the noise from the arena seemed almost to disappear as he stalked toward her.

“Oh my God! I don’t know why I said that. Ignore it. I was just kidding. Good luck, big guy!” She put her flushed face in her palms. She wished the arena had been built over a huge-ass sinkhole and that the earth would open up right under her feet and swallow her whole. Maybe with the noise from the crowd and the audience, he hadn’t heard. Oh, Lord, please don’t let him have heard.

She felt his large hands grip her forearm and force her to look up. “Did you mean that?”

She looked up at the intimidating cage. Rodrigo’s song was now blaring on the speaker system, and the fight would start soon.

“Were you kidding?” he asked, his tone stern.

“Uh…yeah. I was just…” She looked at his narrowed eyes. Who the hell was she fooling? Of course she was in love with him. “Fuck it.” She reached up, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him down. The crowd cheered louder. His arms came around her waist and pulled her in closer. His lips parted, giving her greedy tongue access. She was on the verge of violating rule number two.

“Bro. Seriously? Not a good time.” Slade’s voice broke them apart.

“Tell me again, mi amor,” Tony demanded.

“I love you. I love you so much, Tony. Please be careful. I don’t care if you win or lose, just don’t get too hurt.”

He winked before kissing the little gathering of veins on her wrist and heading toward the cage.

Her timing sucked major ass, but it was true. It was as if her heart had burst at the seams, and nothing she could do would keep the words from escaping her lips.

“You can do this, Tony. You’ve been focused and trained hard. I have no doubt,” Slade said, one hand on his shoulder.

Tony jumped up and down as Slade gave him last-minute pointers. “Remember, the guy has a lazy jab, you can punch over it and try to knock him out.”

Tony didn’t respond; he was taking it all in. He’d slacked off one too many times, and he wasn’t completely confident about how ready he was. Sure, he had been good the last few months, but still, he was getting up there in age. He could choose to end his career on a win or on a loss. He was choosing to end it on a win.

The men stood in the middle of the cage and touched gloves before the bell rang. Tony was on his toes, and the men circled each other, throwing out punches for measurement, not really trying to land them. The crowd was roaring; they wanted action and they wanted it now. The old Tony would’ve given it to them, but the new Tony knew it was too soon, though half of the round was gone and neither had thrown a real punch. Rodrigo acted first by throwing a combination of punches, one of which landed hard on Tony’s stomach. Tony recovered quickly, kicking Rodrigo in the chest right before the bell rang.

He wasn’t too winded by the time he sat at his corner, where he was attacked by water, ice, and advice. Slade encouraged him and gave him some suggestions. He could hear Francesca yelling through all the noise, but he was focused. He could see Rodrigo across from him looking much the same.

The bell for the second round rang, and it went more or less the same way until the third minute of the round, when Tony landed a kick on Rodrigo’s face that sent the man flying back against the fence. The crowd roared, and Tony felt good. Rodrigo recovered quickly and charged Tony to the ground. Tony knew he was at his most vulnerable on his back, and now he was pinned to the mat, an arm outstretched and about to be broken. The weeks of training came rushing back, and he was able to maneuver himself away from Rodrigo’s grip before the bell rang. But his shoulder hurt like a bitch.

He was holding his arm firmly against his body when he sat at his corner. The medic took a quick look as the others pressed enswells against his face and gave him water.

“Honey, listen.” He turned to see Francesca grabbing the fence. This was a big fight, and two security guards immediately charged over and began pulling her away. “You’re doing great!” she yelled, still trying to cling to the fence. “You hear me? I’m so proud of you. I think you should surprise him and take him down. Fight him on the mat. He won’t expect it.”

“No. No way. He’s trained, but he’s not that ready,” Slade said. “He can defend himself, but he needs to be on his feet as much as possible.”

“Bullshit. He can do it. It’ll surprise Rodrigo. He won’t see it coming,” she said before the guards practically carried her back to her seat.

Tony didn’t say anything. Could he do it? Was he ready for that? He turned around, and she blew him a kiss and mouthed “I love you” when the third and final bell rang.

Tony was on his feet, and his shoulder ached. They were circling each other, both throwing punches, some landing, some not. Rodrigo landed a painful kick on Tony’s thigh, and Tony landed a solid jab right on his jaw. Then there was only a minute left in the round. He wanted to go out as a fighter—win or lose, he had to try. He remembered the takedown he and Cain had been practicing, and when Rodrigo swung, Tony surprised him by sweeping his leg by Rodrigo’s knee, causing his opponent to fall flat on his back. Rodrigo was an expert on the ground, so he quickly shifted, but Tony was too fast and he was on top of Rodrigo in a flash, landing punch after punch until the referee interfered and broke them up, calling the end of the match when Rodrigo had stopped fighting back. This was the culmination of months of hard work and sacrifice, and even though he was elated he had to fight back tears. This was what an athlete strived for—ultimate victory. He extended his hand to Rodrigo, who took it, and he helped his opponent up. The referee immediately lifted Tony’s hand, pronouncing him the winner by TKO, and the crowd roared.

It was pandemonium after that. Tony ran to the fence and shook it as his fans yelled. If it wasn’t for all the people around, he’d probably break out in a dance, he was that pumped up with emotion. The press spoke to him briefly. The medics looked him over, and Slade congratulated him. And as soon as he took a step down, Francesca was there. She ran over and jumped on him. “Ow.” Tony winced and clutched his side and shoulder.

“Sorry. Sorry.” Francesca let him go, but he pulled her in close.

There was a familiar-looking elderly man standing next to her. When Tony looked at her questioningly, she smiled broadly and said, “Tony, this is my dad. He flew in to surprise me and to check up on WtF. Mauricio Silva, this is Tony Marino.”

Mauricio extended his hand. “Great job, son. Just great.” He patted his back.

“Thank you, sir. I owe it all to your daughter.”

“Call me Pai.” He gave Francesca a quick hug before telling her, “I’m going to go see the rest of the guys. See you two later.”

“What’s he doing here?”

“He knew about the fight, and this is a huge deal for the Academy, so he flew up. Although I think the fact that I mentioned that we were dating and I wanted him to meet you soon may have impacted his decision to come. Is that okay?”

“Of course it is.” He kissed her forehead and tucked her under his arm as they walked into the locker room. The rest of the guys were all there.

Travis was the first to spot them when they walked in. “So when exactly did you grow a pussy? I must’ve missed it. Couldn’t you have picked a tougher song? Somethin’ country? I’m surprised you won with a song like that.” Everyone laughed.

Tony was bloody and his eye was swollen shut, but he didn’t care; he gave Travis the finger and sat down, still holding Francesca close. Adrenaline still surged through his body, and her declaration of love was still foremost in his mind. He needed alone time with her as soon as possible.

Cain walked over and patted Tony’s shoulder. “Good job, brother.”

Tony let Francesca go and man-hugged Cain. “Thanks, man. Couldn’t have done it without you.” And it was true—Cain had never let him back down. He owed his friend a lot.

Cain nodded.

The door to the locker room opened, and a loud woman burst in and ran over to hug Tony. “Mi hijo!” She had tears in her eyes. “Ay, ju did so good. Ju best fighter. Ju hurt very mucho?”

“I’m okay, Mom. It kind of hurts right there where you’re squeezing, though.”

“Oh! So sorry, hijo.”

She reached into her huge purse, took out a container, and pushed it into his hands. “I made ju jour favorite, arroz con pollo. Ju need to eat to get better. I told ju, ju need good food to won fight.”

Francesca laughed, and Mrs. Marino turned to face her. “Ju no laugh, hija. Ju come to my home soon, I teach you to cook so ju can feed my grandbabies good food.” She winked before leaving the room.

“Did she say grandbabies?”

“Well, I think your profession of love in front of an arena full of people, including all our friends and family, makes her think you’ll say yes when I propose.”

“Are you proposing?”

“Nope. Not going to bother with proposing. You’re going to marry me.”

“You seem pretty sure of yourself.” She wrapped her hands around his neck and kissed him gently.

“Hey, guys, I’m going to change,” Tony announced. “You all need to get out of here for a little bit.”

“So fucking change. You change in the locker room all the time—what’s the big deal?” Slade asked.

Tony groaned, and his eyes narrowed at Slade.

“Oh. Gotcha!” Slade turned and announced, “Everybody get the fuck outta here. Tony needs some time with his woman.”

“Subtle son of a bitch,” Tony hissed, and Francesca laughed and buried her embarrassed face in his chest.

“He’s probably going to read her some poetry and sing her another ballad,” Travis said as he walked out. “You need better game, man!” he yelled as Slade pushed them all out of the room and closed the door behind them.

Tony locked it before stalking back over to Francesca.

“You look like you want something.”

“I haven’t had you in days. I have all this adrenaline coursing through my veins. I have to fuck you right now.” He walked to a nearby sink and washed his hands and face very thoroughly, then took off his shirt. “This is going to be hard and fast, but it’s going to be so fucking good.” He advanced toward her, taking his shorts off as he walked. Her back hit the wall and she had nowhere to go. He pulled her shorts down and ripped off her panties.

“Hey. I liked those!” she protested.

He moved her legs apart, licked his fingers, and penetrated her. “You like this better.”

Her head fell back against the wall. Yes, she did like this better.

“I hope you’re ready. Wrap your legs around me.”

She jumped up and held on tight. He had one arm around her waist and the other against the wall as he pushed inside her. Just as he had warned, it was fast, rough, and hard, but it was so good that when they came, they slid down to the floor, still attached.

“I love you, Tony.” Her eyes were pooled with tears. She gently touched his swollen eye and brushed his cheek. “You did it, honey. I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“We did it.” He cupped her face. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You pushed me. You made me believe in myself. You made people believe in me again. And I love you, but you already knew that. I’ve been saying it all along.”

When they finally emerged from the locker room, they were greeted by Rodrigo and the rest of the crew.

“Looks like you got the girl.” Rodrigo, bloodied and sore, shook Tony’s hand. “Lucky bastard.”

“And the heavyweight title!” Travis laughed. “Jeez, with you it’s always about a girl.”

“It must be the belt,” Enzo teased.

Francesca looked down at her gaudy belt buckle, which featured crystal-encrusted boxing gloves. She had wanted to fit in, but maybe it was too much. Whatever—it’s cute, she thought.

“No, it’s what’s below the belt,” Tony said jokingly before pulling her in closer and pressing his lips against hers.