Twenty-four
Raven
I’m at one of the fanciest restaurants in town, I arrived by limo, and I’m wearing an outfit that cost more than I make in a month, bought for me by my rich boyfriend.
I’m Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.
How appropriate.
No, Cinderella. I’m Cinderella out with my Prince Charming. Although, I’m pretty sure my Prince Charming would kick the real Prince Charming’s butt in a fistfight. And now my nerves are setting up imaginary fights between cartoon characters.
Well, at least it’s taking my mind off the fact that I’m totally out of my element. I may as well have written I don’t belong on my forehead in black eyeliner. Everyone here is either rich, famous, influential, or a combination of all three. I need to pull it together.
I jump as Jonah places his hand on my back. I look up to see a tall man with sandy blond hair and blue eyes eyeing me.
“Raven, this is Taylor Gibbs, the owner of the UFL.”
I gather my social graces. I’ve never seen so many high-powered people in one room. The place is practically vibrating with egos and money.
“Mr. Gibbs, it’s nice to meet you. Thank you for having me.”
“Raven, it’s a pleasure.”
He reaches out to shake the hand I’ve extended. Jonah tenses and pulls me closer to him, tucking me deep into his side. Mr. Gibbs brings my offered hand to his mouth, kissing it softly.
I press deeper into Jonah at the gesture. No one’s touch feels welcome, except Jonah’s. To keep from embarrassing him in front of his boss, I put on a brave face.
“I’m glad you could make it, Raven.” His glare zeros in on Jonah and a whisper of tension charges the air between them.
My eyes dart back and forth between the two.
Jonah’s brooding is directed at his boss. Mr. Gibbs smirks at me and releases my hand. I bring it immediately to Jonah’s abdomen, hoping that the touch will help shake the creepy from my hand.
Mr. Gibbs starts in with Jonah about who he needs to touch base with at the party when a man walks up behind him. He’s as big as Jonah in height and width, but where Jonah’s ferocity is inviting, this man’s is terrifying. He has dark hair and eyes that look almost black. His face is held in a permanent scowl with a scar over his left eye and one at his chin. He stalks toward us with the grace of a rhino.
“Well, if it isn’t my own personal punching bag,” he says, glaring at Jonah.
Jonah’s grip tightens. “Del Toro. I thought they only allowed civilized people into this place. Not knuckle-dragging chimps like you.”
Mr. Gibbs moves between the fighters. “Save it for the octagon, guys. No need to make a scene in front of the lovely Raven.”
Del Toro’s eyes swing to me and his head tilts to the side. He studies my face and a small smile tips his lips. His expression is animalistic, but not a chimp like Jonah chided. He looks more like a hungry lion.
Now I know what it feels like to be a zebra on the Serengeti.
“Raven, when you get bored with this loser, I’ll show you how a champion does it.” He steps forward, causing Mr. Gibbs to use his shoulder to keep him back.
Jonah growls so deeply that I feel it before I hear it. His eyes fix on Del Toro in the death stare to end all death stares. “You fucking talk to her again I’ll put you in a coma right here.”
Energy from years of animosity rolls off of them in waves. Jonah’s jaw is tense, his icy glare fixed, and his fists balled at his sides. He’s about to lose it. I can’t let that happen.
I put on my sweetest smile and step in front of Jonah, placing myself directly between two of the biggest men I’ve ever seen. “You must be Victor Del Toro. Jonah’s told me all about you. Six years as the Heavyweight Champion.” I whistle through my teeth. “That’s impressive.”
Blinking, Del Toro takes his eyes from a seething Jonah and sets them on me. His face visibly relaxes, but not by much.
“Yeah, it’s impressive, and I don’t plan on giving up the title anytime soon.”
“No, of course not.” I bat at him with a girlie giggle that’s so sweet it makes Del Toro smile. Great. It’s working. “About your offer, I can promise you I’ll never get bored with Jonah. But thank you for the compliment.”
“You let me know if you change your mind, sweetheart.” He glares at Jonah one last time and walks away.
There’s a collective sigh of relief from two of the three people left. Jonah’s still seething, but at least his fists are no longer clenched.
“Wow, you have a gift. I’ve never seen anyone who can talk down testosterone-fueled fighters that quickly. Must be those eyes.” Mr. Gibbs winks at me before excusing himself.
Once he’s gone, I turn to a still-frozen Jonah. Pressing my body to the length of his, I slide my hands around his neck. His eyes are unfocused, clinging to the edge of self-control.
“Hey. You okay?”
He makes a sound that’s half grunt half groan. Hm. Not okay. I need to try a different tactic.
I press my breasts against his chest and kiss his chin. This gets me his eyes. Progress.
Making my way from there, I brush my lips against his jaw line slowly, allowing him to feel my breath on his face. His arms wrap around my waist, and his thumbs rub circles on the exposed skin at my back. Now we’re getting somewhere.
I kiss below his ear. “You okay?”
“Better.”
I lean away, but keep my hands locked behind his neck. “That was intense.”
“I want to beat that guy’s ass. I swear, Raven, I don’t regret making that deal with Dominick. I’d do it a million times over,” he whispers. “But, I’m really, really looking forward to beating the shit out of that asshole when I get another opportunity.”
I try to comfort him with a smile, but it feels off. My chest aches. Guilt wars with gratitude. How can I do this to him? How can I not?
This must be torture: all this talk about being the next Heavyweight Champion, his undefeated record, and Del Toro antagonizing him. Instead of going out there on fight night, doing what comes naturally, he has to play possum.
I’m grateful for his sacrifice, but I didn’t anticipate how much he would suffer. Turn his back on his instincts. Push down his nature. All for me.
I pull away and he releases me from his hold. His eyes roam the room casually, unaware of the internal struggle his words induced.
My lungs are tight. I can’t breathe. The weight of all that’s happened presses in from all angles. I turn to a nearby table and lean heavy against the chair. I knew what he was giving up on a hypothetical level, but seeing it with my own eyes, feeling the aggression electrifying the space between them, just made this real.
A group of people walk up to us, but I’m so lost in my head I don’t pay attention. My mind whirls with excuses to get out of here. Bathroom. I’ll just run to the bathroom, gather myself and—What the hell?
A gorgeous blonde in a skin-tight, bright red dress is standing way to close to Jonah. I watch in horror as the beauty queen wraps her arms around his neck. In sickening slow motion, she presses an open mouth kiss right on his lips.
Fuck that!
Adrenaline floods my veins.
“Hey!” My body moves before I think better of it and I’m right in her face.
Jonah’s wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Get your hands off my boyfriend.”
She looks me up and down before pressing her body closer to his. Jonah takes a step to the side, but she winds her arms around his waist, sticking to him like a Siamese twin. “And if I don’t? What are you going to do about it?”
Even her glare is pretty.
“Step away. Now.” My voice shakes, but I stand tall.
Jonah gives her arms a final tug and she releases her hold.
She steps into my space. With her slutty shoes, she’s a good six inches taller than me. Her strapless dress reveals cut muscles that are coiled and ready. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
“No. Don’t care. But if you touch my boyfriend again, you’re going to find out who I am.”
An evil glint touches her crystal blue eyes. “I’m Camille Fisher. I fight for a living. You want to go there. Let’s go there.”
I’m sick and tired of people messing with me. She may be strong and trained, but I’m fed up and pushed past my limit.
I get right in her face and give her a smile that is most likely all teeth. “I’m Raven, Jonah’s girlfriend. And I’m a mechanic.”
She tosses her head back, her blond hair cascading around her shoulders, and laughs. “Mechanic. Scary.” She says the last word in a sing-song voice and rolls her eyes. Her body closes in.
“Baby, leave it alone. Let’s go.” Jonah slides his hand around my waist.
“Yeah, you should be scared.” I lean in until our noses are almost touching. “Every time you get in your car, I want you to think about how easy it would be for me to cut your brakes. I’m sure you have some overpriced piece of fiberglass built in some foreign country. Do you have any idea how simple it is to disassemble a car? A few missing bolts and the thing falls apart while you’re driving down the freeway.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me, bitch.”
Her eyes travel back and forth between Jonah and me.
“Forget it, Camille. Let’s go,” her friend says from behind her.
“Hey, hey, hey! What do we have here? I love a good catfight.” Blake strolls up with a huge grin on his face, like he saw the entire thing and finds it hilarious. “They’re way more fun naked, but then again . . .” He scratches his chin and looks at the ceiling before looking back at us. “Isn’t everything?”
I bite my lip against a smile.
“Blake, this is Camille Fisher.” Jonah introduces Blake, and I don’t miss that he pulls me back a good two feet as he does.
Camille’s eyes sparkle as she takes in all that is Blake. He gives her a visual once- over, like he’s sizing up a meal. It’s obvious where this will end up tonight.
“Camille, you’ve got quite a mouth on you.” Blake’s double meaning makes me giggle-snort, earning me another glare from the female fighter.
“Come on, baby. Leave her to Blake.” Jonah guides me away from the group, still wiping red lipstick from his face.
“Here, allow me.” I run my thumb along his full lower lip, rekindling my anger at the reminder that another woman pressed her mouth against his. “Where do you think she parked her car?”
He kisses my finger, smiling. “Don’t know. But damn, watching you nut up on that bitch? Tough, gorgeous, and hot as hell.”
I wrap my arms around his waist and kiss him. “There. All memories of her erased.” My fingers absently run along the collar of his shirt. “I don’t know what came over me. My tolerance tank was full and I snapped.”
“Now you know how it feels to be me.”
His words bring my thoughts back to earlier. As pissed as I was at Camille, Jonah must feel that a million times worse facing off with Del Toro. And there’s nothing he can do about it.
“I’m going to run to the ladies’ room. Wash all this red lipstick from my hand.” I hold my hand up, and quickly drop it. I don’t need to wash my hand, I just need a second to shake off my thoughts and get through the night.
“I’ll go with—”
“No, it’s fine. You’ve got people who want to talk to you here. I’ll be back before you know it.”
His questioning stare locks on mine, as if he’s trying to read my thoughts. I avert my eyes, knowing he’ll be able to if I give him enough time.
“All right, find me when you’re done. Or I’ll find you.”
“Jonah, I’m fine. Really.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but I take my chance to leave before he changes his mind. I kiss his dimpled cheek, and slip from the room.
The maître d’ directs me to the restroom at the other side of the restaurant. I welcome the distance and take the time to sort my head. Halfway there, something familiar catches my eye. I stop mid-step and squint. No, it can’t be.
Sitting at an intimate table for two is a stunning woman with long black hair and a shimmering gold dress. She flips the dark locks in a playful manner, a bright smile lighting her face. She seems happy and carefree. If I didn’t know better I’d say she looks . . . in love.
“Mom.”