I stand and clap, smiling up at him, and now his eyes are only on me. My chest swells with pride. I've never coached someone how to win a fight, but when I saw how easily he could catch the guy off guard, I couldn't say nothing.
Radimir leans toward me from the next seat and claps his hands with the rest of Roman's cheering fans. "That left hook was new. He doesn't usually lead with it."
I grin at him and know exactly why he did. Radimir can only wink at me, like he heard me telling Roman what to do. It's a good feeling knowing his men are coming around to appreciateme now. Though I'm not sure what good it will do in the long run if he keeps chasing after Sofi and Sabine.
I move toward the ring, but Sofi's already up, pulling Sabine by the arm, working their way across the ring. Though Vera stays seated and watches from her chair with her coat buttoned and her purse on her lap. She looks like she doesn't want to be here but showed up to make sure Roman saw her.
"Roman!" Sofi gets to him first and wraps her arms around his neck, and he pats her on the back a few times and peels her off. "That was amazing. You're incredible. How do you even do that?"
"Practice," he answers, but his eyes are locked on me where I stand at the edge of the ring outside the ropes. I want to stay smiling, but seeing them paw at his bare flesh is degrading. I don't understand the mixed signals he sends me.
"I'm serious, that was—Sabine, did you see that? Did you see what he did?"
"I saw it, Sofi." Sabine rolls her eyes at Sofi's exaggerated excitement. "Good fight. You looked strong out there."
"I felt strong." Roman is still looking past them toward me, but now my own happiness is subdued again, hidden behind a calm expression while I wait for them to have their fill of his halfhearted attention.
Is this what it will be like the rest of the ten years I have to work for him? One of them will grope him and try to consume his attention while I stand by waiting for him to give me orders? That thought sours any trace of pleasure I had left in my chest. I keep letting myself get my hopes up that Roman might really see me, and it's foolish of me. He wants power and money, not me.
"We should celebrate," Sofi says, still holding onto his arm with both hands. "This week? Dinner? You promised us dinner."
"I did," he says, finally turning to look at them. "We'll set it up." And my heart shrinks a little more. I'm still just the tired little girl looking up to the older, wiser man who could look my way but doesn't.
"And the gala," Sabine says with a smile aimed directly at Roman's face, holding eye contact. "Mother has had our dresses for weeks. We're very much looking forward to it."
"I can't wait," Sofi says. "Oh, my God. Is there going to be dancing? Please tell me there's going to be dancing."
"There'll be dancing," Roman comments, but he's lost me.
My mind fades into the past and how many times I wanted my father's attention to fall on me instead of Vera. I was the good girl. I did all the right things, but no matter how much I strived for his attention and affection, no matter what I did, it was never enough. One problem after another kept him focused on work and his marriage, while I shrank deeper into depression and hopelessness.
I turn away from the ring, moving back toward the locker room where I suppose I'll wait for Roman to finish with his adoring fans and find me, to tell me what work he wants me to do next. The voices behind me fade and the crowd noise quiets as I slip into the locker room, hoping for a moment alone. But a doctor is waiting inside with his kit on the bench, and two of Roman's men lean against the far wall with their arms crossed.
Of course, there are protocols to follow after a fight. He should be checked out, and he probably wants some water and maybe some pain medicine. I'm the last thing he'll think about now.
"Hey," I mumble, taking a seat on the bench where I sat less than ten minutes ago. Yegor jerks his chin up and the doctor shifts his weight. No one makes a move to chase me out of the room, so I zip up my emotions and let my head drop.
But when Roman walks into the room ripping off his gloves and the tape that keeps his wrists supported, he doesn't look like he's in the mood for a conference or a checkup.
"Out," Roman says. "All of you."
"I should at least check your ribs," the doctor says, moving toward his bag. "If one of them is cracked?—"
"They're not cracked. Out."
The doctor looks at Radimir and Yegor, and they push off and head for the door. I rise to follow, but as I pass him he grumbles, "Not you." It makes my spine go stiff and I stop, turning around to face him.
Roman sits on the bench and continues pulling tape off his wrists. He winds it around his fist in a ball and drops it on the floor and starts on the other hand. The cut on his jaw has dried, and there's a line of blood crusted along his neck.
"Good fight," I say. "I can help you get cleaned up… I just need some peroxide or something." I start moving toward the door, but his word stops me.
"Stay."
"Well, I can't very well clean you up without supplies," I protest, but he glowers at me.
"I said stay."
I stop with my back to the door and try not to let all the intrusive thoughts fly off the tip of my tongue. He doesn't understand that if I stay around him when he's all sweaty and half-naked like this, I'm going to think things. And if I think the wrong things, it sends me into an emotional spiral. It's easier to remind myself that he isn't interested in a relationship with me if I'm distant.
