Chapter 27 Scarlett
TWENTY-SEVEN
SCARLETT
My stomach is a twisted knot of anxiety by the time I step into the arena.
It’s packed, the crowd so thick that I’d be surprised if it isn’t sold out. Which means if Nico didn’t leave me a ticket, I have no way of getting inside. Is my gesture still romantic if I watch from my phone at the arena ticket booth?
I try not to think too much while I stand in the Will Call line. And when I reach the front, I only allow myself one deep breath before asking, “Hi, is there a ticket for Scarlett Adler?”
The worker only grunts in response and turns toward his computer screen, his fingers tapping away on the keyboard. I don’t breathe the entire time he searches. But then…
“Yup, one ringside ticket for Scarlett Adler.”
My breath whooshes out of me. He kept his promise. He really does want me here.
I send the employee a grateful smile as I take the paper ticket from his hand. It takes me a few minutes to walk to my section, and another few minutes to wait for the hordes of people to find their seats.
Finally, I settle into my seat. I did enough research to know Nico is the co-main event tonight, so I’m not surprised that having his ticket puts me two rows behind the judges and event staff. I’m so close to the cage, I can see the blood stain on the mat.
Nerves once again flood my body at the thought that it could be Nico’s blood later.
I suck in a deep breath, forcing myself to remember that Nico is a professional, that he’s really good at what he does. That if I want to support him—be with him—I need to trust him.
“First fight?”
Turning, I take in the sight of the older woman beside me. She’s smiling at me, and I get the sense that she’s trying to be reassuring.
“It’s always worse in your head, don’t worry,” she says comfortingly.
I return a tremulous smile. “Was I that obvious?”
She chuckles. “It’s not you. I’ve just been in the world for a long time, so I can spot the newcomers.”
Curiosity replaces some of my anxiety. “Do you know a fighter? Or did you fight?”
A loud bark of laughter comes from the older man sitting on the other side of her.
The woman rolls her eyes. “Ignore him. He’s laughing because I’m famous in our family for crying over killing spiders.” Her expression sobers. “My son is a fighter. We’ve attended every single one of his fights, which is a lot of fights over the years.”
Just then, a deafening cheer rolls through the crowd. All around me, drunk fans are screaming and pointing at the TVs in the arena.
I shouldn’t have come. This is too much.
But just as that thought registers, I hear, “Scarlett?”
I jerk in surprise and turn toward the voice. There’s a guy standing in the aisle next to me, staring at me with a questioning expression. He’s…gigantic. In height and in muscle. And combined with the buzz cut, I’d bet good money that he’s military.
It takes me a second to remember that he said my name. My brow furrows. How does he know my name?
Wait…he looks familiar. Why does he look familiar?
“I’m sorry, do I know you?”
“Nico sent me,” he says simply. “Said you’d probably prefer to watch from the back.”
I let out a breathy laugh. “He’s not wrong.” I send the lady next to me a guilty wince. “No offense, but this place is insane.”
She chuckles and pats my arm. “None taken, sweetheart.” Looking past me at the guy standing in the aisle, she asks, “She’s with Nico?”
I frown. “You know Nico?”
“She birthed the nut job,” the big guy says. Stepping behind our row, he leans down to kiss the woman on the cheek. “Hi, Mom,” he murmurs.
Oh my God.
I just met a client’s mother.
And then I realize… This is Nico’s brother. The one who gave me an IV when I was sick. That’s why he looks familiar.
“You’re Alexander,” I say on an exhale.
The affectionate smile on his face softens when he turns to me and nods. “You look better than the last time I saw you.”
I let out a breathy laugh. “Thanks to you. Did Nico pass on my undying appreciation, by the way? Because I’m pretty sure I felt like I was dying.”
If I wasn’t so good at reading people, I probably wouldn’t notice the small tic in his mouth that tells me I earned a smile. His only obvious response is a gruff, “It was nothing.”
“Agree to disagree,” I tell him with a smile.
For a moment, he only blinks at me. Something tells me this isn’t the type of man who would know what to do with me. Especially when he asks bluntly, “Do you want to follow me to the locker room?”
I’m standing before his question is even finished. “God, yes, please.” Remembering his parents, I turn toward them. “Are you coming back, too?”
“Nah, they like to watch from the crowd,” Alexander says, pressing another kiss to his mother’s cheek. “They’re maniacs.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “I like to get the full experience, sue me.”
“We’ll see them after,” Alexander tells me. Then he jerks his head toward the back. “Come on, we’re this way.”
At the last minute, I remember to send a smile to Nico’s parents. A client’s parents. What is my life? “It was nice to meet you.”
“You too, sweetheart. Have fun!”
I happen to glance up at the big screen, where a fight highlight is currently being shown. There’s blood and sweat flying everywhere.
This family’s definition of fun is wild.
It’s too loud for us to talk during our walk through the crowd, but even when we reach the blocked-off area where Alexander has to flash a name tag to get through, he doesn’t seem to be interested in conversation.
Which is good, because I’m suddenly hyperaware of the fact that for the first time, I’m going to purposefully see Nico outside of our usual arrangement.
And nerves are once again making themselves known.
But when we reach the room that says Nicholas Price on the door, there’s no one inside.
“We just missed him,” Alexander explains, correctly interpreting my look of confusion. “He saw you on the screen just as they called him to be on deck.”
“Oh,” I breathe. “So he’s—?”
I’m interrupted by the sound of a cheer so loud, I can hear it even from back here. When I look up at the TV, I see what they’re cheering about: Nico has entered the cage.
At the sight of him, every molecule of oxygen leaves my lungs.
Part of it is his physical appearance, of course.
I normally see him wearing jeans and a shirt, so seeing him now, shirtless, his muscles glistening with sweat, is a shock to the system.
But it’s not just that. It’s also the look of concentration on his face, and the intensity radiating off of him.
The Nico I know is sweet, and funny, and usually focused entirely on making me comfortable.
The Nico on the screen is the one the rest of the world sees.
I can barely breathe as the camera zooms in on his face, the announcer screaming his name into the microphone. I’m suddenly very aware of what Nico told me once before, about how fighting can be dangerous if your head’s not in the game. He seems focused, but maybe that’s just his poker face.
God, please let his head be in the game.
“Is he—?” I clear my throat and try again. “Is he better than this guy?” Turning toward Alexander, I’m sure my desperation is obvious. “I mean, he’s going to win, right?”
He nods, but it’s his true lack of concern that eases my anxiety. “As long as he’s the aggressor, he should be fine. This guy usually waits until his opponents are tired before working for a submission.”
“A submission?” I latch onto the word. “Those won’t hurt him, right?”
There’s a flash of amusement on Alexander’s face. “No, those don’t hurt.” Then his expression softens. “He’ll be fine.”
As the bell rings that signals the start of the fight, I take a deep breath and decide to trust him.
Thankfully, it becomes obvious right away that Nico is going by Alexander’s strategy.
He rushes out of the corner, quick to throw out a combination of punches.
He’s pushing his opponent back, chasing him with punches and then kicks.
They’re not necessarily landing, but it’s such an immediate flurry of aggression that it takes me by surprise.
Still, I’m holding my breath as I watch him. When his opponent finally pushes back with a combination of his own, I gasp, my pulse pounding harder.
Please don’t get hurt, please don’t get hurt…
Everything feels like it’s in slow motion as the punch cracks into Nico’s jaw. Sweat flies, the crowd cheers…
And Nico laughs.
Which makes the crowd even louder. And when Nico shoots forward with a vicious combination of his own, they get louder still.
“Does he always fight like this?” I ask in a breathy voice.
There’s a huff of laughter beside me. “No. He’s usually checked in and stone cold.” Alexander glances toward me. “I guess something must’ve given him a morale boost,” he murmurs quietly.
My heart stutters at that, but I tell myself it’s just the adrenaline of watching the fight.
For the next few minutes, we watch Nico methodically and continuously break down his opponent.
I don’t know the names of any of the moves, or what his strategy is, but even I can tell he’s good at what he does.
I can see it in the way his opponent’s ribs redden from the repeated kicks, and from the flash of blood that tells me his face is cut.
Suddenly, Nico shoots forward and tackles his opponent to the ground. “Nice,” Alexander murmurs. Shifting into another gear, Nico absolutely lays into his opponent. It’s one punch after another, never slowing and each one being thrown harder than the last.
I clasp my hands over my mouth, barely breathing through the intensity. He’s going to win. Holy crap, he’s going to win.
And sure enough, with only thirty seconds left on the clock, the referee steps in and stops the fight. Nico wins.
A huge exhale of relief whooshes out of me. Oh my God. Nico won. He’s safe.
“Well, that was unusual,” I hear Alexander muse. When I turn to face him, he looks both pleased and surprised.
“What was unusual?” I ask.
When he faces me, there’s a sparkle of curiosity in his eyes. “He rarely goes for the knockout,” he explains. “He’s usually a strike-to-the-end kinda guy.”
“Oh,” I exhale.
I wonder if this potentially being Nico’s last fight was the reason for the knockout. And then I wonder if he’s told his family about wanting to retire. Glancing at Alexander, I decide not to say anything just in case he hasn’t.
When my focus shifts back to the TV, Nico’s being interviewed by one of the announcers. He’s grinning, visibly invigorated by his victory, and the crowd loves him. As much as Nico might feel like he fell into this career, it’s clear that he was meant for it.
The next ten minutes are a blur. There’s an interview, some pictures being taken, then the camera follows Nico’s departure from the cage and his walk through the arena. I’m still staring blankly at the TV when it transitions to the announcers talking about the next fight.
But then the door to the locker room slams open. And Nico’s here.
He stops in the doorway when my eyes lock on his. He’s grinning, practically vibrating with excitement, and I can see in his gaze and brightened expression that he’s happy I’m here. That he wants to pull me to him.
And yet, he still lets me make the first move. “Hey, Red,” he says fondly. “You made it.”
My vision blurs, and I let out a teary laugh as I rush toward him to throw my arms around his neck.
“Baby,” he murmurs, so only I can hear. When he brushes a soothing hand down my hair, I squeeze him tighter. “Why are you crying?”
I pull back to look at him, my hands reaching for his face to confirm there are no injuries. “Because that was really scary,” I admit with a laugh. “Are you okay? Is anything hurt? Why on earth would someone do this to themselves?”
Chuckles rumble around us, and I become suddenly aware of our surroundings. Nico’s coaches and teammates have stepped into the room.
My face heats as I step back, but Nico grabs my hand before I can get too far.
I secretly love it.
“Good fight, Nico,” Alexander says, stepping forward to extend his hand for a fist bump. “The takedown was nice.”
Then his parents walk through the door, his mom rushing toward him for a hug. Begrudgingly, Nico lets my hand go to embrace her.
“Oh, honey, congratulations,” she says warmly, joy radiating off of her. “That was incredible. I’m so proud of you.”
The sentiment isn’t aimed at me, but even I feel how much she genuinely means it.
What must it feel like to have a parent say that? And mean it?
As if she hears my internal thoughts, his mom looks at me and smiles. “Thank you for coming tonight. I can only imagine how much your support helps him during his fight camp.”
And yeah, the sentiment hits hard. I don’t have enough breath to respond, so I just give her a smile and turn toward Nico.
He’s watching me, his heart on his sleeve. I can read every thought on his face.
Which only makes it harder to breathe. Because I think I might feel the same way.
“—yeah, I’ll tell him. You got it.”
We all turn toward the new voice and see a handsome man in a very sharp suit stepping into the room. He slides his phone into his pocket and looks at Nico.
“Good news, little brother, it looks like— Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize we had company.” When he notices me, a charming smile curves his lips. He steps forward and smoothly reaches for my hand, his mischievous eyes never leaving mine as he lifts it to his lips.
Before he can say anything, I quirk an eyebrow and say dryly, “You must be Lucas.”
Again, the whole room laughs. But Lucas doesn’t seem offended. On the contrary: he seems pleased. And when Nico wraps an arm around my waist to pull me against his side, his expression shifts to amused.
“And you must be the lovely Scarlett,” he says, stepping back. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Does this mean you’ll be joining us at the afterparty?”
Frowning, I turn toward Nico. “Afterparty?”
Nico just smiles and shakes his head. “It’s not what it sounds like.
It’s just a tradition we have for after my fights.
The whole family goes out to eat at whatever restaurant is still open—usually a pub—and we gorge ourselves on food and drinks.
” I can hear the uncertainty in his voice when he asks, “Will you come with us?”
All the people in the room fade away, until it’s only Nico and me.
“Do you want me to?” I ask quietly.
His gaze never leaves mine. “More than anything.”
And that’s when something unlocks inside me, and I let him all the way in. Whatever this thing between us is, I’m committed to it. I want it.
“Okay then,” I say, smiling. “I’d love to join.”