Zel: Markovic MMA (8 page)

Spend your Friday night with me? Weigh-in. Wedding. Dinner.

He tapped his phone against his thigh while he anxiously awaited her reply. It came a few minutes later.

Yes!

Smiling like a fool, he typed back a quick message, letting her know that he would make sure her name was on the VIP seat list for the weigh-in and then escort her to the wedding at the Bellagio.

“Hey, it’s time.” Ivan rapped his knuckles on a locker to get Zel’s attention.

Inhaling a deep breath, he set aside his phone and got dressed. It was a short walk to the holding rooms where each fighter and his team waited for their turn to walk onto the stage for the televised weigh-in. After the weigh-in, he would have time to change into his suit for the presser that would follow. Once that was done, his obligations to the league were completed for the night.

And then Sara is all mine…

Feeling those pre-fight jitters, Zel stretched his neck as he waited for the elevator to reach their floor. He was already in his walkout gear, his T-shirt and trunks nearly skin-tight and emblazoned with the Markovic MMA logo as well as the various brands who paid to promote him and the league. He hated these weigh-in spectacles. The pressure to perform for the cameras had never been something he enjoyed. He liked to brawl in the cage. He was good at that part.

But this? Posing aggressively? The trash talk? It just wasn’t his style. He wanted to walk onstage, step on the scale and walk right off, but he couldn’t. The contracts he had signed demanded that he play the part—and so he would.

When the elevator reached their floor, he followed Ivan and the other trainers on his team. He glanced across the hall just in time to see Sara come into view. A black dress hugged her curves, accentuating the fullness of her breasts and that luscious ass he had worshipped last night. Surrounded by her entourage, she walked toward the weigh-in room to take her VIP seat.

Their eyes met across the crowded lobby and instantly the sparks of desire ignited his lust. A gaggle of her fans stepped into the way, thrusting cell phones at her in search of the perfect selfie and momentarily obstructing his view. Zel slowed his pace as he crossed the distance between them. She’d just finished smiling for the last photo when he neared her.

As they passed, Zel was so close he caught the bright citrus scent of her perfume. Briefly, Sara’s fingers touched his. Paper crinkled against his skin. Without looking down, Zel accepted her note, the giddy nervousness of his schoolboy days suddenly fresh in his mind. He didn’t dare glance at his hand, afraid to alert anyone to the note she’d just passed.

Fist clenched, he followed Ivan without breaking step. It was only when he reached the safety of the holding room with the rest of his team that he uncurled his fingers and looked at the note in his hand. The folded slip of paper held a perfect lip print in the sexiest shade of red.

Suddenly, he couldn’t stop imagining all the places he wanted her to leave lip prints like that. His mind refused to focus on the task at hand. Even when it was his turn to weigh-in, he was consumed by thoughts of Sara and the night ahead of them. He was oblivious to the cameras or the promoters and even his opponent. He peeled out of his walkout shirt, stepped up to the scale—and spotted Sara sitting right there in the front row.

Wickedly sexy, Sara flashed a playful smile and wink. His groin tightened and he prayed he wasn’t about to sport wood right here in front of everyone. It would be a press photo he would never live down.

Across the stage, he met Mace’s cold stare. His opponent looked like hell. The usually bulky fighter was now ripped so lean his skin looked drawn and tight. Every sinewy cord was visible in the other man’s neck and arms. Cutting all that weight had reduced him to his leanest state, but he seemed glassy eyed and almost confused.

As he stepped on the scale, Zel locked eyes with Sara. They shared a sizzling glance, and his heart thumped wildly in his chest. He gulped and broke eye contact. The professional fighter within him urged common sense and reminded him that he needed a clear head and rest for tomorrow night’s fight.

But the red-blooded man within him, the primal side that drove him inside the ring, had other ideas. Dirty, sexy, sweaty, all-night until they both collapsed ideas.

Suddenly, Mace wasn’t his biggest worry anymore. He would win this fight if he relied on his innate talent and trusted the skills he had honed under Ivan’s watchful eye.

No, his biggest concern was Sara. One night with this woman, and he was ready to live again. There was something about her that made him feel invincible—and that was dangerous, especially with the hardest fight of his career and threat of her stepbrother looming just out of sight.

If I’m not careful, she’s going to be the death of me.

The thought didn’t scare him nearly as much as it should have.

Chapter Six

Sara couldn’t believe her first real date with Zel was a wedding! She wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be good luck or bad luck. Considering her track record with men, she decided she had probably unwittingly doomed her relationship with Zel by agreeing to come as his date.

But Alexei was like family to her, a man who had been something of an older brother for the past ten years, and she wasn’t about to miss out on such a wonderful moment in his life. During their short phone call earlier that afternoon, she hadn’t gotten much out of him about the identity of his bride, just her first name and the story of how he had met her. It seemed like a sweet romance, and she was happy for Alexei.

Standing at the front of the Bellagio’s beautifully decorated east chapel, Alexei exuded confidence and power in his crispy pressed and cleanly tailored dark suit. Ivan stood next to him in a similar dark suit and seemed to be giving Alexei last-minute advice. Ivan was probably one of the few men that Alexei would actually listen to when it came to women so she hoped Ivan was giving him some useful pointers for navigating the ups and downs of marriage.

From what Sara had heard from friends back in Houston, Ivan had settled down very happily into marital bliss. A few rows ahead of Sara, Erin Markovic looked stunning in a cobalt blue cocktail dress with a fantastic black belt that nipped in her already tiny waist and accentuated her fit curves. By the looks of it, Ivan had finally found someone he enjoyed spoiling with lavish gifts. Diamonds dangled from her ears and glinted around her neck. The rock on her left hand was slightly bigger than the diamond she wore on her right.

Yet the tender smile on Erin’s face anytime she looked at her husband was enough to convince Sara that theirs was a match based on true love and deep devotion. Sara remembered Ivan from his early days in Houston. Back then, the Russian brute was known for violence and mayhem. He was the man who never questioned the orders that came from Nikolai and did whatever was necessary to grow their territory and gain more control over the city.

Despite that hard reputation, he had never been unkind toward women. That seemed to be his line in the sand. Once, he had come into Besian’s club Harem, the spot where she had started her career, with Alexei. She still remembered how uncomfortable he had looked and how quickly he had lumbered out of that club and disappeared. Maybe even all those years ago he had been looking for something a little different than his peers.

It seemed that he had found what he was looking for in Erin. She reminded Sara of a ballerina with her slim build and graceful way of moving. Apparently that saying about opposites attracting had some truth to it because she had never seen two people who were more different—or so obviously happy.

“I didn’t think I was going to make it.”

Sara glanced to her right at the unexpected sound of Besian’s familiar voice. He gestured to the open space next to her in the pew before sliding into it. Unbuttoning his suit jacket, he flashed her a smile and then leaned forward so he could make eye contact with Zel. They exchanged a brief glance before Zel turned his attention to the front of the chapel. She didn’t fault him for the public display of coldness toward Besian. The last thing he needed was someone digging around and trying to publicly tie him to a known mob boss with his dirty hands wrist-deep in loans and gambling.

“It’s a good thing I have friends with access to private jets. There wasn’t a seat left on any of the Houston flights coming to Vegas. I had to make a deal with the devil for my seat,” he said, brushing lint from his pants. “The things I do for my friends!”

She caught his double-meaning in the sly look he directed toward her. Leaning closer, she asked in a whisper, “When were you going to tell me about
him
?”

“
That
is a conversation I wasn’t prepared to have over the phone or via email or text.” He checked his phone for any messages and switched it to silent before tucking it back into his pocket. “We’ll discuss that later tonight.”

“Tomorrow,” she corrected, a faint blush making her face hot. “I have plans.”

Besian eyed Zel’s hand as it moved to her thigh, just above her knee, in a gentle but clearly possessive gesture. That seemed to be Zel’s unspoken way of telling Besian that the rules were different now.

“I see,” Besian replied with a hint of a smile. “I can’t wait to hear the story behind that.” As he fetched a jawbreaker from his pocket, he glanced back to see the last few guests trickling into the room. He made a grumbling sound before popping the candy into his mouth. Voice lowered, he murmured, “Stay close to me tonight until I smooth things over with our old friend.”

Barely moving her neck, Sara looked toward the aisle of the chapel and felt her heart flutter in her chest when Nikolai Kalasnikov and his very pregnant wife came into view. He looked every bit the mafia don in that black suit and black tie. The dark ink marking his fingers was plainly visible, and at this distance, she could see the little bit of ink that even his shirt collars didn’t cover. Beneath that designer suit, Nikolai’s body was rumored to be a canvas of criminal and mafia ink, each piece recording his violent history and rise to power.

As if sensing her presence, Nikolai glanced to the right. His gaze skipped from Besian’s face to hers. His expression remained stoic and unmoving. There was only the briefest hint of recognition in his eyes before he returned his attention to Alexei. She swallowed anxiously at the mob boss’s dismissal of her. She hadn’t even warranted a frown. Surely that meant he wasn’t going to order Alexei to toss her out of the chapel—or worse.

Apparently unaware of the history that her husband had with Sara, Vivian smiled warmly at Besian and touched his upper arm before locking eyes with Sara and smiling again. Sara had come face-to-face with many beautiful women during her years of modeling and dancing but Nikolai’s wife was that kind of beautiful that belonged in a global glossy ad campaign for something like Cover Girl or Maybelline. She was
that
pretty.

She knew how to dress, choosing a black cocktail dress with a champagne pink bodice peeking through a delicate lace overlay, and accentuated her good looks with makeup. A smoky eye with a hint of shimmer. Lush red lips. A hint of blush. She’d mastered the art of hot rollers to achieve those incredible dark waves. Her jewelry choices were classic and understated, but Sara had an eye for diamonds and Vivian was wearing the absolute best.

When Vivian tugged on Nikolai’s hand to guide him to the bride’s mostly empty side of the chapel, she confirmed the rumors Sara had heard about her sweet nature. She was obviously thinking about how Alexei’s bride would feel with all those empty pews. Sara had been wondering why those pews were so light on occupants. It was clear Alexei’s wedding had been something of a rush. There were only three reasons Sara could think of to explain it.

One: Alexei was so desperately in love with this woman that he couldn’t wait even three days for a license and a quickie courthouse wedding in Houston.

Two: His soon-to-be bride was pregnant, and he wanted to assure her that he was excited about a baby and building a life with her.

Three: Something had happened—something dangerous to her or him or both of them—that necessitated an immediate marriage to protect them from the legal implications.

Or, maybe, it was all three.

After Vivian and Nikolai settled onto the front pew, Vivian said something to her husband who gave the smallest, almost imperceptible shake of his head. He slid his arm around his wife’s shoulders, and she leaned into him. Nikolai pressed a loving kiss to the top of her head. It was jarring for Sara to see the man who had terrified her almost ten years ago showing such tenderness.

“He’s as soft as a kitten these days,” Besian joked while tucking the jawbreaker wrapper into his pocket.

Zel grunted and said, “Even kittens can scratch.”

Besian chuckled as the soft tones of the ceremonial music filled the room. They stood with the rest of the guests and watched as the maid of honor, a platinum blonde in a delicate lace dress the color of a shell pink cameo, walked down the aisle. She took her place at the front of the chapel and turned back to watch the bride make her entrance.

Sara peeked around Besian to get a good look at the woman who had won Alexei’s heart—and she inhaled a sharp breath of recognition. Alexei had mentioned that his bride-to-be’s name was Shay, but Sara had never imagined that he meant Shay Sandoval, Shannon’s little sister!

Except she wasn’t so little anymore.

In the nine years since Sara had last seen her, Shay had blossomed into a stunning beauty. Sara had been very good friends with Shannon, especially since their men had run in the same street gang back then. Shannon and Ruben had been a few years younger than Sara and Lalo. Once, after one of Lalo’s more vicious attacks, she had tried to convince Shannon to get out of the life while she could. She hadn’t listened back then and Sara had a sickening feeling that Shannon was still running with her man, a true ride-or-die chica.

But Shay had always been such a good kid, so smart and ambitious and kind. Sara had been sure Shay was going places. Seeing Shay as a confident, poised young woman left Sara with all sorts of questions. Namely, where the hell was Shannon?