The Last Round
THE LAST ROUND
Emmy L. Montes
Copyright © 2015 Emmy L. Montes
All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your support and respect is appreciated. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.
Cover designed by:
Jena Brignola,
Bibliophile Production
Edited by:
Nichole Lynn Strauss,
Perfectly Publishable
Proofread by:
Christine Estevez
Interior design and formatting by:
Christine Borgford,
Perfectly Publishable
Romantic Suspense Series
Disastrous (Book 1)
Cautious (Book 2)
Contemporary Romance
Perfectly Damaged (Standalone)
Table of Contents
To Alex,
I loved you then. I love you more now. And I will love you always.
Love,
Emmy
People say, “You never know what you have until it’s gone.”
Julian
THIS IS BULLSHIT.
The last thing I need right now is a press conference. I was just released from rehab for God’s sake. I want to murder Jonathan for setting this up. Swiftly, I push the door and walk toward flashing cameras, footsteps hurdling closer and the shout of my name. “Julian! Julian!”
I inhale deeply, relaxing myself. I’m really antsy today; I just want to go home. Let’s get this damn show over with. I step behind the podium and search the crowd. Eager journalists and reporters stare at me, their desperate gazes attempting to gain my attention. It’s hopeless. I’ve played this game before; I know what each and every one of them will ask.
For example, the guy with blue eyes and long, shaggy black hair, his body covered in a fitted navy-blue suit. I’m sure he’ll ask something regarding my training. I nod for him to go first. He clears his throat. “Julian, what are you doing to get ready for your next big fight?”
See what I mean?
Of course, I answer quickly and concisely to get this over with.
I continue to amuse myself with this guessing game I like to play in my head. The next one is a tall, lean, blonde bombshell. She’s wearing a short skirt and a revealing blouse. I’m sure she’s a writer for a gossip magazine, which means she’ll dig a little deeper. She’ll for sure ask about the rehab. I allow her to go next. “Hello, Julian.” Her neon-pink lips and she gives a wave. I wink in response. “We’re all happy to see you’re out. Many are dying to know if the bad boy image you’ve easily created will slowly fade away due to your recovery.”
Bingo.
For the next fifteen minutes I go back and forth with the questioning, and quite honestly, I’m growing irritated. I just want to leave.
My gaze stretches across the space when a distinctive screechy tone is louder than the others. A short brunette missteps as my eyes land on her. She manages to maneuver her way through the crowd, squeezing between others. She moves closer; my stare narrows as I take her in. She’s small, and her clothes are too large for her petite figure. She’s a plain Jane.
I almost skip her, but then decide to allow her to go next. Maybe it’s her presence or the fact she looks like she doesn’t belong.
I know how it feels, to not belong.
I nod for her to go on. Why the hell not, she’ll be the last one from the crowd anyway.
Her eyes widen, shock spilling from her gaping mouth, a sly grin then touches her lips. After a few seconds she composes herself and straightens, an attempt to seem larger in size. It fails, she’s the smallest person in the entire room. I give her a smile of encouragement, but her features turn critical. Great. She’s turned into reporter mode, which means I might’ve made a mistake.