Drago's Woman

This wasn’t what she was used to, and she found it hard to focus when she’d count the days away from her daughter. But all this research and planning was for Ava’s benefit. Without knowing her location, it wasn’t as simple as rushing in to save her.

For as long as Belle could remember, she followed orders. Going against her father, making waves—it was all new territory. But if what Drago said was true, and deep down she knew it was, her father wanted her dead. The death match wasn’t a game, and she had to remember that.

Her head was spinning, and by six she’d had enough of reading the small font of the printouts. Although her body had healed from her last fight, her heart was still broken. It would never be whole until she was with Ava again. All these sacrifices were for a reason.

She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand.

“Anything new?” asked Drago. He entered the office, bringing in the scent of the outdoors. She’d forgotten what it felt like to be outside, the sun on her skin. Being trapped in this office wasn’t much different than being shuffled from fight to fight in the back of a cube van. All she’d ever wanted was her freedom.

“Same stuff. Lots of legal talk that I don’t really understand.” Belle massaged her temple. “What have you been up to?”

“Making plans for tonight.”

She inwardly groaned. Belle had been pushing herself to the breaking point, and wanted to just disappear and forget all her problems. She sucked up her internal resistance. Whatever needed to be done, she’d agreed to be a part of it. “Are you going to tell me?”

When he didn’t answer, she looked up at him to gauge his reaction. She hadn’t even paid much attention to him since he’d walked in, too absorbed in her thoughts. He was wearing a dark suit, and damn he cleaned up nice. He smirked.

“What’s going on?”

He leaned over and closed both the open file folders on the desk. “You don’t know what moderation is, do you? You don’t know when to stop fighting, and you’re doing the same thing now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

“You need a break. You’re not a fucking machine, even if you like to believe it. I have reservations at La Concha downtown.” He ran his palm over her hair. “I want to see you smile.”

She swallowed hard. Belle couldn’t even remember the last time she put herself first. She continually pushed her body and mind, first because it was expected of her, and then for the sake of her daughter. Something had to give.

Belle shook her head. “We have too much to do here.”

He tilted her chin up, glaring down at her. For a brief moment she remembered the ruthless fighter in the ring, his hard body glistening with clean sweat, his daggered stare making his opponents tremble. Drago had been feared and unbeatable. She’d always been in awe at his skills. “I’m not asking. Get ready, Belle. You have plenty to wear in your closet.” His tone left no room for argument, and it felt good to give up control for once. She was tired of acting tough and resisting the voice in her head. Belle wasn’t even sure who she really was underneath her skin.

It wasn’t easy always keeping up her barriers, needing to be strong and never show weakness. She stood up, taking a cleansing breath. Yes, she needed to get out, to get away from her problems for a night.

“You’re more than a fighter and a mother, Belle.” He ran the backs of his fingers along her jaw. “You’re also a woman. You’re allowed to have your own dreams, to have fun once in a while.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice. At twenty-five she already felt burned out.

Drago confused her.

She’d always looked up to him. He inspired her to be a better fighter, to be the best of the best. But she’d be lying if she said that’s where her interest ended. She’d blown off her feelings, calling them a crush. Every woman wanted him, so it was only natural to feel that pull.

Living with him day in, day out, she knew it was an excuse. She felt drawn to him, but he was much older, experienced, and could have any woman he wanted. Belle was a single mother, a washed-out fighter, and had too many problems to count. Men avoided women like her like the plague.

Now Drago was taking her out to a fancy dinner, making her dream up impossible fairy tales. In her world, harsh reality ruled.

After getting ready, she looked at herself in the mirror. It was nice to see her skin rather than shades of blue and green bruises. She ran her fingertips down her bare arm. It had been a while since she’d killed it in the gym. Part of her missed the grueling routine, and another part cringed just remembering the schedule her father demanded. What she needed was balance, to learn how to live by her own rules.