His smile widens.
“From a salad kit,” I add, and Victor laughs out loud.
“It sounds great, Tia, but I’ll have to take a rain check.”
I sag against the kitchen chair. I press my lips together to suppress the question on the tip of my tongue.
He runs upstairs. I eat my salad by myself. Nineteen minutes later—I wasn’t staring at the digital numbers on the oven clock—Victor comes downstairs. He’s wearing black jeans and a white shirt with long sleeves that hugs his defined muscles in a delectable way.
I rinse my utensils and plate in the sink before placing them in the dishwasher.
“You shouldn’t have come to the gym today.”
I freeze. “Why?”
“Sometimes we spar until someone is down for the count.” His eyes are studying me.
I gape at him. “Isn’t that overdoing it?”
Victor bursts out laughing. When he regains control over himself, he says, “What do you think of the gym?”
My pulse increases. “It was intense. I got scared.” I pause to swallow hard. Blood rushes to my cheeks. “But not because of the fighting. Because I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
I’m vulnerable and exposed, and avert my gaze to the floor. Victor’s shoes appear in my sight and his warm fingers touch my cheek.
“Look at me, Tia.”
My head tilts back. His green eyes watch me carefully.
“No one can hurt me, except you.”
“Me?” My heartbeat picks up.
“And the fact that you don’t know it drives me crazy.”
“Your dad hurts you all the time,” I blurt out of nervousness. “Based on what you and Alek have told me and from seeing him today in the gym. Did he give you a hard time because we were there?”
Victor lets out a heavy sigh. “He has a lot to lose. The sponsors, the hype he created for my first fight. He has a lot of money on the line.”
Victor lets go of my face and takes several steps backward. Leaning on the wall, he crosses his arms around his chest. His jaw’s clenched and his neck muscles twitch. He rubs those muscles as if he’s trying to relax them and smooth them.
“My dad is selfish. He wants me to be like him, minus the mistakes he made.”
“What mistakes?”
“The marriage. The kid.”
My heart splits with pain.
“All he wants is to get the prize money from the fight and invest in his business—the one thing he really cares about.”
I cringe. “Isn’t it your money? You’ll win the fight after all.”
“I’ll keep some, but I’m planning to give my share to my mom.” He releases his crossed arms and drops his hands to his sides. “I hate what he’s done to her.” He rubs his hands on his jeans.
“Now I’m confused… Why are you training at his gym or spending time around him at all?”
“My mom tried her best to delay my professional fighting career, so she pushed for me to go to college. She was convinced college was the right move for me. I went with it, to make her happy. The problem was we couldn’t afford it, so my father helped with the tuition in exchange for me practicing with him to become a pro fighter after I graduate. Moving to Las Vegas with him is part of the deal.”
