I knew Rafe was behind most of this, but I did not know that not even Lainey knew about the pregnancy.
“Why would she keep it from you?” I ask. “You’re her best friend.”
“I wondered that too,” she says. “I was even hurt by it. But I realize now she was just afraid. She’s still afraid, Dom. And she needs you.”
I offer a stiff nod. It’s not an answer or a white flag by any means. Mila isn’t the only one hurt by all of this, and I still need time.
“Just talk to her,” Lainey says. “Please?”
“I’ll think about it,” I tell her.
As Lainey shuffles off with all her things to the locker room, I take in a breath and let it out again. I’m about to head out the door back to my car, but for some reason I am pulled to the back, towards the ring.
I turn the lights on and they flicker with a clamor before everything lights up. Even though the room is empty, silent and cold, I can still hear the sound of the crowd, the cheering and booing, the announcer, the bell.
My hand instinctively touches my face again, softly because it still hurts like a bitch. It’s not the first time I’ve been injured in the ring. I’ve been hit hard enough that I spent two days in the hospital before. I’ve also broken an ankle and had a collapsed lung. But something about this was different. This time felt more detrimental.
I walk over to the ring and step inside, standing in the middle with my hands in my pockets, turning slowly to look around the room. Visions of Mila flash through my mind, making my head hurt as I remember her calling out to me, trying to warn me.
The back door opens, but I don’t look. My eyes are locked on the spot where Mila was standing before I got hit. Before she screamed. It isn’t until someone starts talking to me that am able to pull my mind away from that moment.
“How did I know I’d find you here?”
I turn to see my dad walking up.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Looking for you,” he says with a smirk as he steps into the ring with me. “Jesus, son. He walloped you good.”
“Yeah, well, he fights dirty,” I mutter.
“No shit,” he chortles.
“So is that why you came looking for me?” I ask, my guard up. It’s an instinct when I am standing in the ring. It’s also an instinct when I’m standing in front of my father.
“I came looking for you because I heard about the fight and wanted to see how you were doing,” he says.
“I think my face says it all,” I tell him.
“Your face shows the outside. But it’s the inside I am more concerned about,” he says. I turn to look at him through my one good eye. My dad is many things, but empathetic is rarely one of them. Especially when we aren’t on good terms.
“I’m fine,” I say, turning to stare in a different direction, my shoulders squared, my hands still in my pockets, and my heart on lockdown.
“Bullshit, you are,” he blurts out. “I know you well enough, Dominic. You’re going through hell right now.”
I whip back around. “No shit,” I snap. “I just got my face cracked open. I found out through you that my girlfriend is pregnant with my child, and my professional life is nose-diving because I have no access to my inheritance. Hell isn’t even comparable to where I am right now.”
“Golden Rule isn’t going to let Shaeffer bid,” he says calmly, and it makes me even more riled up.
“What the hell are you talking about? I lost the fight. Fair or not. There’s no fucking way he won’t contract with them now.”
“Except for the fact that they know about the fight and how he won,” he tells me, mimicking my stance and shoving his hands in his pockets. “It was enough to make them dig into the dark archives of his history. And between me and some of his pastclients, they realized that Rafe Shaeffer is not a man they want to partner with, ever. They also realized who they do want, and it’s you.”
My brow stitches together as I attempt to keep up. “You talked to James Rickman at Golden Rule?” I ask.
“I did.”
“And he knows about Rafe,”
