Chapter Twenty-Five
The week passed in a blur, and despite all her planning, the night of the gala dinner arrived too soon.
She’d driven by the venue once with Kieran.
Scoured the website and memorized the gallery with Nat.
Alex even scheduled them a tour under the guise of venue shopping for his wedding.
None of that prepared Lily for standing outside Alastaire’s.
The sprawling estate held court on a tree-lined street in Lincoln Park, only blocks away from Lake Michigan. Domed white windows with fleurs-de-lis carved into the mortar brightened the dark brick facing. Framing the looming wooden double doors was a white portico with six towering white columns.
With her hand tucked in the crook of Kieran’s arm, Lily followed Neal across the sidewalk and through those double doors.
The inside of Alastaire’s was a sea of smug, smiling faces and shaking hands.
In the white-and-black-tiled foyer, a musician spun out a mellow melody on the piano—but it was muted under the din of chatter.
Far too many people, in far too small a space. Couldn’t folks say hello somewhere other than the lobby?
The crowd shifted, thankfully before her stomach churned, and one of the knots in her chest loosened. Men in dark tuxedos and ladies in luxurious dresses filled every corner of Alastaire’s. From the open bar tucked into the corner to the filled banquet hall, there were people everywhere.
Her grip on Kieran’s arm tightened, and he crossed his hand over his chest to give her a squeeze. “You’re alright.” He whispered the reassurance. “Just act like Alex. You’ll fit right in.”
“Be nice,” she whispered in return. “Alex is a sweetheart.”
“I never said he wasn’t.” Kieran steered her into the banquet hall and located the seats saved for South Side MMA. White linens covered long tables, lit with soft, floating candles. “I only mean he could schmooze his way into a six-figure endorsement.”
Alex definitely had a way with people.
Lily slipped her clutch onto her assigned chair and straightened, smoothing her hands down her sides.
The red dress had been an almost perfect fit.
The bust needed to be taken in just a pinch, but the sales associate promised Kieran with a flutter of her lashes she could have it altered within a few hours.
They collected it after the beach, and now here Lily stood, dressed like she was born to rub elbows with business owners and investors.
The satin might as well have been painted on her skin, and thank God because the sheer tightness of the dress was all that held her breasts in place.
For her hair, she’d twisted it into a loosely knotted chignon bun, with several curled tendrils left free and framing her face.
The video she’d made had been the first “Get Ready With Me” video she’d ever posted to the gym’s Hit It page.
She followed it up with a “Fit Check” video featuring Kieran in his sinful tuxedo.
“Well.” Lily glanced at Neal, who was already twenty feet away and deep in conversation with a tall gray-haired man. “What now?”
“Now we mingle. There’s an hour of hors d’oeuvres and an open bar before the dinner service starts.” Kieran cupped the back of her arm and caressed her skin with his thumb. “Up for meeting some other local fighters and Chicago business owners?”
An image of the second, more secluded bar she and Alex had discovered upstairs flashed in her mind. Lily offered Kieran a weak smile. “Would it be terrible if I left the schmoozing to you and Neal?”
“I understand.” He squeezed her arm and stepped away, leaving her with one last, hungry appraisal of her body. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
He followed after Neal and in moments was shaking hands and clapping arms with other fighters.
Lily tapped her French-tipped nails against the table and exhaled. She needed a drink.
The upstairs was blessedly less crowded than the banquet hall and lobby. Though people lingered, there was room to move and breathe.
After ordering a screwdriver at the bar, she meandered by the balcony and stared down at the throngs of people.
Kieran was easy to spot. Even with a hundred feet between them, she gravitated toward him.
Whether they were at the gym or even when she’d stayed at his home, she’d begun to sense when he was there—like her spirit was attuned to his.
She rested her elbows on the balcony railing. People flocked to him. For someone so surly, he sure knew how to work a room. Two middle-aged women iced in gemstones flanked him, each appreciating one of his flexed arms.
Lily’s stomach twisted, and she knocked back her drink as if it were a shot.
It’s not real. Kieran was going home with her, not some older woman offering him a good time.
But he was going to choose the gym. That was real. She knew it in her bones.
“Not a fan of the pomp and circumstance?”
Warmth filled the space beside Lily, and she turned, finding a handsome man leaning against the balcony with a dark drink in his hand.
He wore a classic black tux with bow tie and white shirt.
Wavy chestnut hair was slicked back atop his head and blue eyes studied her from behind ruddy cheeks.
He was good-looking, but old enough to be her father, and not built enough to be a fighter.
Business owner, then.
“I don’t mind it. It’s just a bit overwhelming.” She held out her hand. “I’m Lily.”
“Roger.” He accepted her outstretched hand and gave it a polite shake. “You work for South Side MMA, isn’t that right?”
While it wasn’t a secret, he didn’t look like the demographic to scroll through Hit It. “Yes. And you?”
He had an easy smile that shone with straight white teeth. “I’m on the board for the Local Legends Charity.”
Oh! “You’re the one who set this up?”
“With some help,” he chuckled, “but yes.” Roger slipped into her space and placed his hand at the small of her back, steering her away from the balcony. “Shall we get you another drink?”
Drinking quickly wouldn’t be good for her in the long haul, but it would be rude to turn down a drink with the man responsible for the whole event. “Sure.”
Refill in hand, Roger guided her to a high-top table where several guests stood around, sipping their drinks and sampling a plate of bruschetta.
“Hey, Rog.” A brunet with a full, trimmed, salt-and-pepper beard clapped the man on the back. “Excited to get this dinner out of the way?”
Roger lifted his tumbler to his lips, though a smile snuck into his eyes. “I love these dinners, Dean. They bring out the best in the community.”
“They certainly do.” Dean’s pointed stare—little more than a leer—followed the deep cut of Lily’s dress down past her breasts.
Almost instinctively, she lifted her drink and held it in front of her chest.
“I haven’t seen you around the circuit before, miss,” said a stranger with reddish-bronze hair. “Are you with one of the brands?”
Brands? Did he mean brand names, like the sponsors?
“Uh, no.” Lily shook her head and squirmed in her nude heels. As much as she hated the crowds, this small talk was possibly worse. Why had she split up from Kieran?
“Miss Lily works for Neal at South Side.”
Recognition flashed in Dean’s eyes, and he snapped his fingers as a grin split his face. “I knew you looked familiar! You’re that girl from the internet. The one who has everyone all worked up over Southpaw.”
The redhead groaned and shook his head. “You’re the one who ruined the betting pool.”
Warmth climbed up Lily’s neck, but she stuck out her chin, refusing to shy away from the man’s disparaging tone. “I just make videos for the gym. I have nothing to do with any bets.”
“Oh, of course.” Dean chuckled and popped a piece of bread into his mouth. He didn’t bother to finish before he spoke again. “Because your little video with his tongue down your throat had nothing to do with everyone betting on him to win.”
Never mind how inappropriate it was they were discussing her kiss, what the hell did betting have to do with anything?
“I thought this fight was for charity?”
“It is.” Roger set his drink atop the table and let his palm rest against the shiny surface. “Which means the only way to make a little extra on the side is through gambling. Tell me, Miss Lily, are you a betting lady?”
“No.” Lily pursed her lips. “I prefer numbers and facts.”
Dean snorted. “You shouldn’t be at South Side, then.”
The men shared a laugh, and Lily glared.
“Kieran’s a skilled fighter.”
“Oh, sure.” Dean nodded along. “No one is denying that.”
“Three years ago, I would have bet on him, too,” said the redhead. “But he hasn’t been in a real fight in a long time. And South Side just doesn’t have the facilities or the budget to train a prize fighter.”
“Seems to me like Neal trained a prize fighter just fine when Kieran was younger.” Lily crossed her arms over her chest. “You know he didn’t lose a single fight during his last year with Intimidators USA? Everyone thought he’d get nabbed up by the UFC. That’s a fact.”
“Yes, then he disappeared.” Dean shrugged. “Maybe Southpaw’s not a betting man, either. Maybe he knew he couldn’t cut it in the pro circuit.”
“I think he’s got a shot.” Roger swirled the dark liquor in his tumbler before tilting it back and draining the cup. “I prefer luck over numbers.” He shot Lily a teasing wink. “And Southpaw has Lady Luck on his side.”
Lily’s brows drew together, and she turned her attention to her glass. She couldn’t place her finger on what reaction Roger was trying to bait out of her, but nothing about their conversation felt strictly cordial.
“Don’t you think Herrera’s got him beat?” Dean asked.
Roger shrugged. “Maybe. I suppose we’ll find out in two weeks.”
Dean laughed and shook his head. “That’s not a lot of confidence for your own fighter, Rog.”
His own fighter? Lily’s gaze shot to Roger’s. “I thought you run the charity?”
A slow smile spread across his face. “I do.”
“But you have a fighter in the tournament?”
“Roger owns Riverside Gym,” offered the redhead.
Her eyes widened, and her grip tightened around her drink. Riverside on the Loop was the poshest gym in the city. With the best equipment, former Fight Fest Chicago members as their trainers, and several teams—they attracted the best fighters in the city.
Their monthly fee was also more than Lily spent on groceries in a week.
She sipped her drink, her gaze never leaving his. “I still think Kieran’s going to dominate.”
“And I respect your faith in him.” His hand settled at her back, and he tilted his head toward the stairs. “Come on, let’s find our seats for dinner. I’d love to chat with you about your social media presence and how you made South Side really explode.”
Lily polished off her drink and left the empty tumbler resting on the table. Somehow, she doubted how she did it was all he wanted to know. Still. Lily smiled and allowed him to lead the way. “Sure, maybe you can tell me about Riverside, too.”
“It would be my pleasure.”