Chapter 10
TEN
Mr. Landry said they would see me at training, so either he lied or forgot.
“Two punch!” my father commands. I quickly smack my fists into the pads on his hands.
“Duck.” I do as instructed, my muscle memory working even as my mind flits away.
I should focus—we are in training camp for a reason.
I have a big fight coming up, one that will determine my rank and allow me to challenge and be challenged by those in the top three.
It’s what I need to be a champion. This is important, it’s my life, but my thoughts are elsewhere, and it’s evident when a padded hand smacks into the side of my face in an easy-to-avoid move.
I straighten, dropping my guard as I gape at my father. “Pay attention!” he snaps. “Where is your head?”
“Here,” I mutter around the mouth guard even as I straighten my shorts. They are shorter than the ones I normally wear. The brand sent them for me to try, and their Nexus colors are bright as hell.
“Then prove it!” he shouts as he slaps his hand pads together. “Give me ten.”
Snarling, I drive my fists as hard as I can into the pads, and he stumbles back under the assault, but that only makes him grin. “Good! Again!”
We repeat it numerous times before he lets me have a ten-minute water break. It doesn’t last long enough, and I’m sprawled on the mat when Luke appears above me. He’s another fighter in my weight class, though slightly newer. He offers me his hand, and I let him yank me up.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
“Don’t thank me yet. We’re up.”
I climb into the ring behind him, wrapping my hands and putting my mouth guard in before we face each other.
Luke is quick, but he tires easily. He doesn’t have the stamina to last in a long match with several rounds, so it’s easier to end it swiftly. The plan comes into my head as naturally as breathing. It’s how I win, learning my opponent’s fighting styles and adapting mine to theirs.
I’m brute strength, and although I’m slower, I have the stamina to last all the rounds. If I can drag this out, then I can wait until he’s tired, and the win will be mine.
The bell rings, and I ignore the other fighters who gathered to watch.
Luke and I don’t often spar. He might be new, but he’s rising quickly in the ranks, and my dad wants us both at the top of our game.
When we do spar, someone always gets hurt.
This is punishment for not paying attention and I know it.
I can’t be shown up, so my father wants to push me.
Well, he’ll get what he wants.
Luke dances in front of me, throwing a few jabs, but I duck under them, and then he suddenly attacks. Speed and strength meet as he tries to catch me off guard. He’s emotional and relies on that. I bring my arms up for protection as he moves me back across the ring from the force.
He pummels my raised arms with a grueling snarl, and my back hits the ropes before he pulls away. I move forward to meet him again and duck under his feral punches, returning a few of my own that have him dancing out of the way.
This goes on for two rounds before I see my opening.
He’s slowing.
My bare feet glide across the ring, my arms up in my guard. Sweat drips down every inch of me, and my muscles burn as exhaustion sets in, but I push past it.
He swings slow and becomes sloppy, leaving his chin unprotected.
I duck under his neck as he throws two desperate jabs, then I unleash my cruel uppercut.
He doesn’t stand a chance. I pull back a fraction early so he doesn’t take the full force, but even so, he hits the mat hard and doesn’t get back up.
Dancing back, I bounce on my toes and wait as my dad checks him then grins at me.
“Winner, Nikko.”
Smirking, I glance at the other fighters to the right to see them handing money to each other. Luke groans, and I reach down and help him up. He sways slightly, his eyes blurry. “Shit, Nikko, you could have gone easy on me.”
“You won’t learn if I do. You’re good, Luke. You’re fast and strong, but you need to work on your stamina. It’s your weakness. You’d be unstoppable if you could last.”
He nods and stumbles to the ropes, where the others help him down.
“Stop coaching him and focus on your own training,” my dad says before he heads out to check on Luke.
Clapping makes my head jerk up, and I freeze when I see the crowd watching from the practice mats at the side.
My heart stops and everything else fades into the background as I look at the one person I’ve wanted to see this entire time.
Zia stands next to Mr. Landry and Charlie, who holds his ever-present clipboard.
My eyes lock on him as I climb from the ring and untape my hands, unable to look away as I walk over.
“Mr. Landry and Mr. Xander wished to come see your training. Hope that’s okay.” Charlie grins, winking at me when he catches my eye.
“Sure,” I answer, glancing at Zia. He doesn’t look like he belongs in a gym like this, not dressed like that.
He wears a silk shirt that’s neither white nor cream, almost an iridescent pearl that shines in the light.
It’s loose on his beautiful, unmarred chest, with a deep V leading down to a black corset belt that makes his waist look so fucking incredible, I can’t stop staring.
My fingers ache to trace the dip of his muscles.
His hair is swept artfully back, jewels drip from his ears, and his eyes and lips are darkened with makeup.
He looks like he walked out of a photoshoot, and I have no doubt his outfit costs millions and is worth every fucking cent.
Hell, I don’t have the money, but I’d throw it at him if I did just to see him in ten different versions of this getup.
“Nikko?” Charlie’s voice penetrates my lust-filled gawking, and I jerk my head up when I realize they are all watching me.
How many times did he say my name? Fuck, did Zia notice?
I glance at him, feeling embarrassed, and see his lips rolled in as if he’s trying to control his laughter, and I swear my face turns so hot, I might as well just melt.
He saw me checking him out.
Fuck me.
Luke should have knocked my ass out. It would have been less embarrassing than this.
“Did Luke hit you too hard?” Charlie chuckles, covering the awkward moment. “I was just letting you know they might be coming more often and that you did well today.”
I nod in understanding, looking anywhere but at Zia while trying to control myself and these urges. I want to fucking wrap my hands around his waist to see if I could span it. I bet I could, and for some reason, that thought has my shorts tightening.
I drag my gaze to Mr. Landry, trying my best to ignore Zia so I don’t traumatize everyone by getting hard in the middle of the gym.
Think, Nikko. Words. Don’t sound dumb.
“Thank you for coming. You didn’t have to. We appreciate your sponsorship,” I say formally, remembering the script Charlie made me practice.
“Cute. You were right, Z.” He grins. “He’s good. That was a smart move, waiting for him to tire. You are like a hunter who won’t let go of his prey. I’d hate to feel the strength of that punch.” He chuckles as he slings his arm around Zia, who shakes it off, but Mr. Landry puts it back. “Right, Z?”
I stare at the arm touching him, and something in my chest tightens as a feeling I don’t understand rears its head.
Mr. Landry’s eyes are sharp, and he seems to notice it, his smile indicating he got the reaction he wanted.
Zia just knocks his arm off again and grins at me, a sexy one that has me shifting back on my heels.
“I told you he was. You should listen to me more often. That win is practically mine,” he teases, and I glance between them. Are they friends? Lovers? More? Have they ever been? Does he know how soft and curvy Zia’s waist is? Has he felt it for himself?
The thought makes me see red, but I don’t understand why.
I bite my tongue so I don’t blurt out the questions fighting for purchase in my brain. It doesn’t help, though, just like normal. “Are you two lovers?”
I long for the ground to swallow me. I know enough to understand you don’t ask that, and their dual shocked, wide-eyed expressions confirm that.
“Nikko!” Charlie groans.
I don’t apologize. I want the answer, even if it isn’t appropriate.
“No,” Zia answers with a crooked smile that does something to me. “Julies is like an annoying brother to me.”
“Zia is not my type. Sorry, cutie, like he said, he’s a brother.” Mr. Landry chuckles. “Why, Nikko?”
“Just curious.” I shrug, and there’s this awkward silence when we all know I am full of shit. Luckily, my dad has perfect timing.
“Nik!” my dad barks, and I jerk back, looking at him. “Wash up. I want you to rest before training tonight.” He’s oblivious to the tension, but I nod at his order, swallowing hard.
“I better go do as I’m told,” I mutter, looking at Mr. Landry. “Thank you for your support.” I glance at Zia, who smiles at me knowingly. “Mr. Xander.”
Spinning on my bare heel, I practically run to the locker room.
My heart thunders and my legs are weak, but not from training.
Why the fuck did I ask that?
And why am I happy with the answer?