SYLVIE
“Where are we going?” I asked for the tenth time.
Normally after training I’d be running off to my maid job.
Tonight, I’d called in sick rather than show up looking like I’d been in a fight.
I’d presumed we’d head back to Aedan’s apartment and—hopefully—talk about things.
But he’d dragged me in the opposite direction as soon as we’d left the gym and now we were in a shopping street.
It was evening, but the day’s heat had soaked into the sidewalks and buildings and now it was throbbing slowly out around us, turning the air to soup.
“Down here,” he said, checking a map on his phone. “Apparently.” He’d changed, after the gym, putting on a blue shirt that matched his eyes. I hadn’t even known he owned a shirt. Thinking about it, it looked suspiciously new.
We rounded the corner. The next street seemed to be nothing but boutiques.
“There,” Aedan said, satisfied. “This must be it.”
“What must be it?” I was looking around for a bar, or a cheap diner, or maybe a sports club. I wondered if he was taking me to see a fight, as some sort of training exercise.
He took hold of the top of my head and gently turned it to look at the boutiques.
“I don’t get it,” I said.
“We’re going to buy a dress.”
“That’s ridiculous. You don’t have the knees to pull it off.” I looked up at him to see what the hell was going on.
“I’m serious,” he told me. “I’m buying you a dress. As a gift.” I could hear how utterly alien the words felt to him, even though he was trying to make it sound as if he did this every day. I just stood there and blinked at him.
He towed me over to the nearest window. “You’d look great in that one,” he said, pointing to something that was all red velvet and laces.
I shook my head—in disbelief, not disapproval, because actually it was a pretty awesome dress. “What’s got into you?” I asked. “I don’t have money for stuff like this.”
“I’m buying.”
“You don’t have money for stuff like this! And neither of us have time! I’m fighting Jacki again in two weeks! We need to be training! We need to be planning! We—”
“We need to be taking a break. Especially you.” He grabbed my hands and held them. “Look. I know you’re scared. I know you feel like you’ve gotta work every hour until the fight, or it’ll be all your fault if you lose.”
I went to protest...and then realized that he’d described exactly what I’d been feeling.
“I know because I’ve been there,” he said. “I understand. But the fight can’t be the only thing in your life or you’ll burn out. That’s why I had to get you out of the gym.”
“But why this?” I asked, waving my hand at the store windows. “Why not just take me for a beer?”
“Because you deserve nice things,” he said softly.
I stared at him, my heart swelling in my chest. It had been a hell of a long time since I’d worn anything other than jeans. The girly, dress-buying, nail salon side of me had died with my mom. And I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it.
“Okay,” I said grudgingly. “But maybe not that one. I’m not sure all the laces are...me.”
“I kinda like the laces,” Aidan said with a wicked grin.
I pulled him to the next store. “How about this?” I asked. It was white and long and silky and just about the prettiest thing I’d ever seen.
“That could work,” he said, grinning. But he wasn’t looking at it as much as he was looking at me—at my own stupid smile. He just wanted me to be happy.
“Aedan?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
When we came out of the store, I had not just the dress but shoes to go with it. The bill would have fed me for a week, which was exactly why I’d barely bought myself any new clothes in the last few years—I hadn’t been able to justify it.
And he’d known that, somehow. It was scary, how well he could read me.
I pulled him close, right there in the middle of the sidewalk, and hugged him. It was the first time I’d managed to get Jacki’s face out of my head all day. “Thank you,” I said again. “It’s lovely. I’m not sure where I’ll be able to wear it, but—”
“You can wear it right now,” he said. “We’ve got a table booked for eight.”
The restaurant wasn’t super-posh, thank God.
I would have run screaming if it had been.
It was friendly, with small tables and lots of candlelight, but still upmarket enough that the dress fit right in.
I felt almost glamorous. I was self-conscious about my bruises—my eye, especially, was pretty much impossible to hide with make-up.
But most people’s attention seemed to be on Aedan.
I wasn’t surprised. The shirt couldn’t hide his muscles.
He was imposing as hell, even dressed up.
“Are you sure you can afford this?” I asked as we sat down.
“It’s no problem. Go nuts.” He opened the wine list and his eyes bulged. “Maybe not too nuts.”
“Do you know the last time I went somewhere where there was a wine list?” Probably before Dad died. “Seriously—this is great.”
It was the best I’d eaten in a long time. After months of noodles and discount breakfast cereal, I’d been getting used to the heavy protein of the boxer’s diet. But this was different again: delicately-cooked fish and steamed vegetables, rich sauces and luxuriant desserts.
“You look amazing,” he told me.
I grinned. Walking in heels had taken some getting used to again after nothing but sneakers—my legs were going to get their revenge the next morning.
But I felt a million miles away from the scared, bruised girl backed into a corner.
I’d escaped, just for one night. And Aedan looked so damn gorgeous with his muscled forearms stretching out the fabric of his shirt and those big blue eyes regarding me over the top of his wine glass.
I noticed a couple of people eying him up—although, weirdly, they looked almost hostile. Jealous of me, I presumed.
The whole dress shopping and dinner thing still had me reeling. After the roof, I’d been worried that he’d only wanted me for sex. But now he was taking me on an actual date.
Something was wrong, though. We’d been happily chatting away for weeks during training but now it felt like everything had changed, and neither of us knew how to act around the other.
“Sorry,” he said after a while. “I’m not good at this.
I mean, I haven’t done it much. Recently.
” He looked away and rubbed the scars on his neck.
What the hell happened to him? I wondered.
“But I never was good at this stuff. Talking.” He grinned suddenly.
When he smiled, his whole persona seemed to soften. “Not like Carrick.”
I leaned forward eagerly. “You said your brothers were spread out around the country?”
He blinked, as if surprised that I’d remembered that. “Yeah. All over.”
“You don’t see them?”
He shook his head. “They’re better off without me.” And the scary thing was how much he obviously believed it.
“Why? Why would you say that?” I reached across the table and took his hand. “Aedan...you’re a good guy. What happened to make you think you’re not?”
He bent his head and then looked up at me through those heavy brows. For a second, I thought he was going to tell me. Then he shook his head. “Ah, hell. I didn’t mean to get into this. Tonight was meant to be about you.”
I felt the mood changing. Our wonderful, glamorous night being dragged down into a black, oily sea.
“It can’t be that bad,” I whispered.
He nodded that it was. I could see the muscles in his shoulders and arms tensing under his shirt, his frustration building. Frustration at what?
“I like you,” he said again. “I really do.” He was silent for a moment. “But maybe you shouldn’t be around me.”
I reached across and stroked his cheek. “Why would you say that?”
He sighed and hung his head. I could sense the pressure of it inside him, his past expanding to push away everything good we’d built up. The closer we got, the more he seemed to return to the closed-off man I’d met at The Pit.
I felt as if my heart was made of paper and someone was slowly, cruelly ripping it down the center. I could feel him slipping away and whatever I said didn’t seem to make any difference. “Tell me! I like you! I don’t care what happened. You’re right for me!”
“I’m not right for anyone,” he snapped. “And it’s not just what happened. It’s what I am.” He glanced around. “Do you know why I’ve been getting dirty looks all night?”
I looked around us. Everyone was studiously avoiding looking at me. When I caught a waiter’s eye, he glanced at Aedan...and yes, I saw his lip curl in distaste.
I’d gotten it wrong, when we walked in. They were all looking at Aedan, but not for the reason I thought. “Why?” I whispered.
The restaurant seemed to grow very quiet, or maybe I was just so focused on his next words that it seemed that way.
“They think I beat you up,” he said.
The restaurant, previously so friendly and inviting, became a sea of hostile faces, all staring at us.
Judging us. Judging him for raising his fists to me and judging me for taking it and not running to a shelter.
You’re enabling him, the women silently hissed at me.
You’re letting him hit you and then letting him buy forgiveness by taking you out to dinner.
God, you’re pathetic. A few of them seemed more sympathetic.
She’s probably trapped. Co-dependent. Maybe there are kids.
Maybe she has nowhere else to go. I wonder if I should say something.
Everyone so sure they were right.
I stood on shaking legs. Aedan looked up, startled. He seemed to realize what I was going to do just as my mouth opened, but by then even he couldn’t have stopped me.
“HE DOESN’T HIT ME!” I yelled. The whole room turned to look at us.
“Sylvie—” started Aedan.
“This is my boyfriend,” I announced, acid dripping from my words, “and he doesn’t hit me. I was in a fight, you presumptuous, judgmental fucks!”
The room was completely silent. I could hear individual people breathing.
Aedan took out his wallet and counted some bills out onto the table, then stood up and took my hand to lead me towards the door. He was looking at me in total amazement...and respect.
I refused to move for a moment. I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him into a deep, long kiss, pressing myself up against his chest. He got over his shock quickly and kissed me back just as hard, his hands going down to my ass.
Only then did I let him lead me outside.
“Thank you,” he said, still sounding stunned. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I’m not having people think that about you,” I told him.
He stared at me sadly. “They’re right. I don’t hit you but I’m just a”—he stared down at his hands—“just a...thug.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“It’s still true. I’ve done stuff that...” He shook his head. “You deserve better. You deserve a good guy.”
I could see him fighting with himself. God, what was this thing that was tearing him apart on the inside? He’d brought me out on this date, he obviously wanted to be with me...and now he was pushing me away to protect me.
Well, the hell with that.
I pressed myself close to him again, feeling his warmth. “Maybe a bad guy is what I want. Because I want you.”
He took a deep breath and stared off down the street for a long time, not meeting my eyes.
When he finally looked back at me, things had changed.
He’d come to a decision. He gave me that same hot lick of a look he’d given me when I’d first seen him at The Pit.
Then he pushed me back against the nearest wall and kissed me with a raw, breathless intensity.
It was as if a dam had broken inside him.
He leaned in close. “Okay, then,” he muttered.
“If that’s what you want, Sylvie...that’s what you’ll get. ”