That is, until the front door of the suite splintered open. Fenton charged through the broken door and headed straight for Jackson.
Jackson backed off with his hands up, palms open. "Now, look what a mess you're gonna make poor Kya clean up. I'm telling you, he's no good for you."
"Fenton, I'm so glad you're here. I'm so sorry," I stopped when he waved me into silence. Jackson still stood between us, and Fenton was concentrating on his opponent.
"This is ridiculous and you know it," Jackson said. "What, are you really going to waste your chance at the title standing around here trying to accuse me of something that will never in a million years stick?"
"You're not above the law," Fenton said.
"No, but I know an awful lot of people that create the law, uphold it, and defend it. Face it, someone like me is untouchable, especially for someone like you," Jackson said.
"Not with witnesses," I said.
"Just you? Of course you're going to take your lover's side. It will never hold up. It looks like you two banded together to con me into this endorsement deal," Jackson tossed the signed contract on the coffee table.
"I know you did something to Sienna. Fenton and his manager saw it," I said.
"Again, a conspiracy," he said.
"Then, what about all those dancers at my sister's club?" Fenton asked. "You really didn't think they would talk to each other, band together against a threat? You're banned, the word is out, and they will have no problem making statements against you."
"No one is going to believe that bunch of whores," Jackson said.
Fenton lunged for him, his first kick landed on the side of Jackson's knee. Jackson cried out in pain but stood his ground and tossed a series of wild punches at Fenton.
The air fled my lungs. Fenton was going to get hurt before his title fight, and it would be all my fault. He was going to lose the title because of me. I could not let it happen.
Neither man saw me as they locked together, each determined to see the other bleed. I jumped over the white couch and grabbed the bottle of champagne Jackson had brought in. I stood up on the white cushions and waited for an opening.
Fenton slammed an upper cut into Jackson’s gut and I knew the next punch in the combination was a right hook to his cheek. Fenton could not afford to bruise or possibly break his knuckles on Jackson's face. So, I raised the champagne bottle high in the air and swung it down as hard I could.
There was a sickening thud, and Jackson crumbled. Fenton froze, his clouded blue eyes confused. Then, he blinked and saw me.
"Please tell me he's not dead," I said.
Fenton leaned down to check Jackson's pulse. "Not dead, not even fractured. Too bad."
He stood up, and I launched myself from the couch into his arms. "Thank you, thank you. I can't believe you came. I'm so sorry. Oh, Fenton, I never would have forgiven myself if you had gotten hurt. Oh my God, the fight! You have to go."
Fenton held me, his hand smoothing down my hair. "Shh, it's fine. You took him out in the first round. We have plenty of time. Are you okay?"
I felt my body shaking but the strength of his arms soon dispelled it. "I'm fine. You came for me. Wait, why did you come here?"
His lips curled into a smile inches from mine. "I came to see you. I wanted to make sure you were safe. Dana Maria told me about Jackson, and after what I saw with Sienna, I was worried."
"Oh," I said. I loosened my hold on his neck. "Thank you."
Fenton shook his head and laughed. He brushed a soft kiss across my lips. "I came for you. Turns out you were right. You said in your message last night that you had good luck. Well, I want some of it. Hell, I want you."
"You can have all my good luck. I don't believe in it anymore. I just believe in you."
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