Bad Professor (An Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (114 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Fenton

I
woke up to my head
pounding and my phone ringing. Kya's bedroom door was shut. I would have
slammed mine if I could stand the sound. Instead, I answered my phone.

"It’s
me," my sister said.

"Where are
you? I thought you were going to stay here?" I rolled over and blinked at
the clock. "You're up early. I thought you would sleep in after your
shift."

"Kinda hard
to sleep in at my place," Dana Maria said.

I sat up and
rubbed a hand over my eyes. "Are you still in your car? That's why you
were supposed to be staying here. You can't keep doing that, Sis."

"It’s the
best way to save money. And stop giving me advice, Fenton. I've seen your life
and I gotta say, I think it’s a bigger mess than mine."

"That's not
fair. You've only seen me a few times. Maybe Vegas isn't bringing out the best
in me," I said.

"Don't blame
the town, Fen. And remember, you can't fight everything and everyone,"
Dana Maria said.

"Yeah? And
who should be the first for me to kiss and make up with?" I thought about
our father and how he was never friends with anyone.

"I saw your
picture. Maybe you should start with that girl of yours. She was ready to fight
for you. You should return the favor. Anyway, I was just calling to let you
know I'm alright. I'll see you around, Fen." She hung up the phone.

I could not bear
to face the bright sunlight of the white decor living room. Still holding my
phone, I flopped back in bed to check the damage. The photograph was
everywhere. It was great publicity for me despite the probation. It was even great
publicity for the golfer; he looked like the hero good guy. I wanted to spit on
him. The only thing that stopped me was Kya.

If Kya had been
the untouchable good girl, the Country Club Princess, before, she was done now.
All the headlines and captions lambasted her. All the articles talked about her
going wild, letting loose, and, my personal favorite, tarnishing her halo. She
was in my territory now.

I would have felt
bad for her, if I did not remember catching her with the golfer just outside my
bedroom door kissing on the couch over glasses of champagne. The surge of anger
burned off some of my hangover. I got out of bed and marched to her door. What
would I say?

I turned and went
to the kitchen to make a hangover cure. I was just choking it down when I
noticed the folder and note on the counter:

  
I had to tell you about the offer. It is too
good to pass up. I understand you want to do everything on your own and that
makes sense to me. I'm the same way. That's why I am pursuing other athletes.
Now there's no pressure, I'm not depending on you. Make this decision for
yourself.
–
Kya

I opened the
folder. She was right; the deal was very generous. The contract was for a
surprisingly long period. It would set me up for long enough to get settled. It
would help me survive the ups and downs of my MMA career.

I tore the
contract to shreds.

Kya had not
mentioned anything about us. She had not explained why I caught her kissing
Jackson McRay on the sofa. She had very carefully kept work and personal life
separated. I should have respected that. It seemed the more I tried to maintain
that separation, the worse my life got.

"Don't have a
hangover, do you? Because I'm going to make you drink that egg thing that
Aldous always cooks up." Kev let himself into the suite and joined me in
the kitchen. "Jesus, what does that little scrap of paper say? Is that a
new offer?"

"I'm not
taking it."

Kev leaned on the
kitchen counter. "You didn't think I would reach that conclusion on my
own? What's with the shredding?"

"I just don't
want any more distractions. I need to focus on defeating Maxwell Lewis," I
said.

"Oh, right.
So it has nothing to do with Kya Allen," Kev said. "I thought you two
were becoming a thing."

"She's only
interested in me as a client." I pointed to the scraps of contract and the
note.

Kev read the note
and shook his head at me. "You realize she was only doing the right thing.
She owed it to you and to her clients to pass along the new offer. Takes
integrity to do that even if it jeopardizes her personal interests. I mean, I
guess. That's what I hear about integrity, anyway."

I chucked Kev in
the shoulder and he complained about the bruise all the way down to the waiting
cab. He distracted me with his normal litany of near-conquests and sexual
fantasies. I had to smile. It was impossible to brood when Kev Casey was
around. The ride was quick and by the time we met Aldous at the gym, I was
ready to focus.

"Go
team!" Kev said. He peeled off to chat with a pair of female boxers.

I started the
circuits that Aldous timed. He had obviously seen the photograph, too, but my
coach did not say a word. He would not say a word unless I brought it up. I
worked harder. I would not be in Las Vegas training for the title fight without
my manager and my coach. No matter how much I wanted to be a lone wolf, I was
part of a team.

I had not realized
it before. Kev and Aldous were more than team members. Despite Kev's disgusting
conversational skills and Aldous' habit of preaching, they were my friends and
family. I had never struggled to separate our personal relationships from
business. We all lived what we did.

Kya was the same.

There was no
reason to keep her out of my life. She fit perfectly. All I had to do was show
her I was better than some Polo shirt wearing golfer. I trained hard, burning
off all the other distractions. I was going to win my next fight.

I meant to go
straight back to the suite and stay out of trouble, but suddenly, I was
striding through the casino. I saw Jackson McRay in his light blue Polo shirt.
He leaned against a video poker machine and toyed with Kya's copper curls. She
pulled back and smoothed her hair down, but then she smiled at him. I had to do
something. I would not cause a scene, but I would get Kya's attention.

"Oooh, Fenton
Morris. I've been dying to meet you!" The voice came through a strong
white light.

I blinked and
discovered a camera crew surrounding me. Actually, they surrounded a leggy
blonde in a short blue dress. I recognized her from all the headline websites
that had featured my photograph.

"Whoa, wait.
I'm not reality show material," I said.

"Oh, forget
about the cameras. I'm Sienna." She pressed against me and giggled.

I had to
appreciate the firm curves of her body and her blatant exploitation of my
appearance in the casino. Sienna was only skin-deep and easy to figure out. I
wrapped an arm around her waist and pretended the cameras were not there.

"You look
like you could be a good lucky charm," I said.

"Want me to
blow on some dice for you?" Sienna asked.

I laughed loudly and
paraded the reality show blonde farther into the casino. Kya looked up from her
video poker machine. Despite the outpouring of her winnings, she frowned at me.
It was not what I intended, but it certainly had grabbed her attention. She was
not the only one that could pursue other angles.

Over Sienna's
wriggles and giggles, I watched Kya brush off Jackson McRay. He looked ready to
punch someone until a horde of short-skirted fans surrounded him. Kya
disappeared from the casino. I suffered another half an hour of Sienna draped
over me and vamping for the cameras. Then, I unhooked her arms from my neck and
headed upstairs.

The bright white
decor of the luxury suite was lit only by the fireplace. Outside the wide
windows all of Las Vegas sparkled. Kya's door was shut tight. I wanted to knock
on it, but instead, I stood in front of the view. Las Vegas surprised me. I
loved it. Minutes from the neon and faux explosion of the Strip was the desert.
And, in between all the tourists and vacation facades, there were real people
working hard. For one moment, I was content. I could stay put. The suite was
silent and comfortable, Kya was in the other room safe and sound, and I felt
good.

Instead of waking
her up and ruining everything with words, I went to my room. There in the
middle of the bed, was a stuffed black cat toy with a red ribbon around its
neck. Kya had scribbled a quick note:

Saw
your tattoo and thought you might like this. Who says black cats are unlucky?
You don't need luck; we all know you're going to win.
–
Kya
 

I tucked the black
cat under my arm. The black cat tattoo was entwined in the skin art all over my
back, bits and pieces from my life. Somehow, Kya knew the cat meant more to me
than my first motorcycle, the first cash I won fighting, or my first pair of
boxing gloves. She had seen straight through all the skulls and roses, the
stone angel and guns and picked out the one thing that summed up my entire
childhood.

My mother's sweet
black cat, Lucy. That cat lay on her bed, purred, and kept her warm, until she
passed away.

"Don't
believe what people say about black cats, Fenton," my mother had said.
"Luck isn't real, good or bad. It's all up to you."

I carried Kya's
gift with me to the fight the next day.

"A mascot, I
like it," Kev said. "Let's bring the black cat to the ring, let it
get in Maxwell Lewis' head."

I smiled. "Go
team."

There was a
commotion outside the locker room. Kev yelled at someone outside the door.
"No one's coming in. No one!"

"Who was
it?" I asked.

"Not Kya
Allen, if that's what's got you worried," Kev said. "She told me
she's watching it on the big screen in the casino."

I jumped up and
down and tried to stay focused.

Kev continued.
"I just figured you didn't want a whole reality show swarming around
before you head out to the ring."

"Sienna?"
I asked.

"Yup. Said
she'll catch up with you after the fight. Just let me know if you want me to
take her off your hands."

Kev then launched
into an entire storyline of what he would do with Sienna and how the cameras
would have to stop rolling almost immediately. I welcomed his normal drone and
got myself pumped up for the fight.

"You ready
for this? You're ready for this," Aldous said.

"I am. And
when this one's done, let’s sign that endorsement deal. It’s time to take
things to the next level," I said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Kya

Maxwell
Lewis was hard. He answered every move Fenton made with a lightning fast
combination. The two fighters hardly broke apart. Instead, they locked together
time and again. I watched through my splayed fingers.

The giant screen
in the booking lounge was overwhelming. It made every heavy hit reverberate off
the walls. All around me, people drank and cheered, chatted and laughed. I
could hardly breathe. Fenton was fighting at the top of his game, but Maxwell
Lewis was an even match.

I was torn between
wanting to run to the arena and see everything, every kick and spin and chop,
and wanting to retreat upstairs to the suite and bury my head under a pillow.
It was impossible not to worry about Fenton, no matter how invincible he looked
in the ring.

At
least this time he's wearing gloves and there's a ref
,
I thought. No more bare-knuckle boxing.

I watched the odds
rise and fall depending on the moves the fighters made. Fenton was the top
choice, but Maxwell Lewis was looking good. Watching the statistics flash next
to the live fight was almost too much. I turned to run down to the arena.

"And he's
down! Fenton Morris has done it. Total knock out!" the announcer roared.

My knees went
weak, and I found a seat just as everyone else leapt to their feet. The
celebrations and lamentations quickly spread out of the booking lounge and into
the casino and bars. Soon, there were only few stranglers left to watch the
post-fight action in the ring.

Fenton's left eye
was swelling and his lip was cut, but he wore a huge smile on his face. I
leaned back in my seat and tried to catch my breath. He had won. A huge weight
was off my chest. I hoped now that we could move past all the mistakes I had
made and start over. He was on his way to the title fight and whether or not we
worked together, I wanted to be with him.

My breath caught
in my chest again. I wanted to be with him? The man that made passionate love
to me twice and then invited a stripper up to the suite? Was I completely
insane?

There had to be
more to the story. There had to be some way we could clear the air. Still, I
did not breathe as the ringside reporter shoved a microphone in Fenton's face.

"Some people
are saying you've redeemed yourself after the disastrous fight with Mario
Peretti. What do you have to say to that?" she asked.

"I have to
thank my team, the people that make sure I am fighting at my best," Fenton
said. Kev and Aldous joined him. Kev held the black cat I had given Fenton over
his head like a trophy. Fenton laughed. "They are the ones that help me make
my own luck."

I was right about
the black cat tattoo, so maybe I was right about Fenton Morris himself. There
was a good guy underneath his act. Maybe there was a simple explanation to what
happened between us. I left the booking lounge and headed upstairs. The least I
could do now was plan a celebration for him.

A quick
conversation with the casino concierge and a DJ and caterer arrived at the
suite within minutes. Hotel staff helped me rearrange the furniture, create
space for the party, and hang a congratulations banner across the wide picture
windows. When everything was set, I stood under the banner and waited.

It was impossible
not to admire the view and feel my heart soaring. There was something about Las
Vegas. I loved the glitz of the Strip and the nearby starkness of the desert. I
loved the chilly wind of the evenings and the hot beating sun during the day.
And, I loved that underneath the facade were real people. I wanted to be one of
them. I wanted to be part of this fabulous town.

"Great minds
think alike, Ms. Allen," Kev called from the doorway. He marched in
leading a long string of party guests. "Crack open the champagne and let’s
get this thing started."

"Oh, thank
God," I said. "I just realized Fenton might have decided to go out on
the town."

"The man
likes to party in private, especially to celebrate a win," Kev said.

"You mean he
might actually be himself tonight?" I asked.

Fenton's manager
laughed. "Oh, so you like the real Fenton? I figured. I never would have
guessed it at first, but you two seem to be a good match when you're not busy
messing it all up."

I accepted the
glass of champagne. "Well, maybe tonight can be all about celebrating and
nothing about work."

"Damn fine
idea," Kev said. He popped another bottle of champagne as more people
crowded into the suite and started to party.

"Who are all
these people?" I asked.

"Gym staff,
restaurant servers, valets, cab drivers," Kev said. He shrugged his
shoulders.

For all his big
talk and disgusting jokes, Kev was a good man. Everyone that helped him or
supported Fenton in even the smallest way had been invited to celebrate.

"You're a
class act, Kev Casey," I said.

"You flirting
with me?" he slipped an arm around my waist.

I laughed and
shoved his arm away. "Sorry, I've got some networking to do."

"Oh, so
you're thinking about settling here in Vegas? I meant to talk to you about
that. Opportunities abound. I bet your agency would love a foothold here,"
Kev said.

I blinked and
could not hide the huge smile that spread over my face. "My boss would
love that."

"Yeah, I got
the feeling you weren't rushing back to Chicago. Sometimes a place just grabs
you, like it’s got its own gravity and you realize you've just been floating
along until you find it," Kev said.

At that moment,
Fenton appeared in the doorway. There was the pull that Kev was talking about.
Fenton Morris pulled me in to his orbit. I was about to give in and go to him
when a tall blonde and blinding camera crew appeared behind him.

All hope of Fenton
being himself vanished as he grabbed the reality show star and sauntered into
his party. With the cameras rolling, Fenton was in full-on party mode. Tequila
appeared in front of him and he tipped it back, taking a lime wedge out of
Sienna's mouth. The crowd cheered as Sienna's entourage poured into the suite.

Kev gave me an
apologetic look, and then swooped in to wrap his arms around two of Sienna's
skinny, sequined friends.

"Let's get
some music going!" Fenton yelled.

The DJ started and
the living room became a dance floor. Fenton pulled the reality star into the
center and ground himself against her. She shrieked and danced, writhing
against him while the cameras ate up every bit of it.

"Not really
your scene?" Aldous asked. He appeared behind me with a small plate of
snacks, but no alcohol.

"Is it really
his?" I asked.

Fenton's coach
chuckled. "He plays it up good for the cameras. Saves money on a
publicist, I guess."

So
this is all business to Fenton
, I told myself. It was
only fair. I had let my dotted line get in the way, and now he was letting his
one-man brand keep me away. I straightened my shoulders and finished the glass
of champagne Kev had poured me. Then, I dove into the dancing crowd. It was
hard not to smile as everyone was having such a good time. I finally gave into
the music and found that dancing was a much easier way of getting through the
crowd.

In fact, I was
having so much fun dancing that I was surprised when Fenton slipped his hands
around my waist and turned me to face him. Sienna refused to relinquish her
hold and gyrated against his back, but Fenton's blue eyes were on me.

"I just
wanted to say congratulations," I said over the music.

"Where's your
date?" he asked. "The golfer?"

"Jackson?
He's not my date. I'm not interested in him. I told you, I was just pursuing him
for the vitamin supplement people. That way I don't have to bother you
anymore," I said.

"You don't
bother me," he said. He shrugged off Sienna and moved closer to me.

His whole body
changed, became less rigid. I watched as the act slipped away and it was just
Fenton that stood before me. He took my hand and pulled me off the dance floor.
My heart pounded harder than the music as he handed me a glass of champagne.
People patted him on the back and congratulated him. He smiled and nodded, but
focused on me.

"Is your eye
bothering you?" I asked. I wanted to reach up and soothe the swollen area,
but stopped myself.

He shook his head.
He took another swig of tequila and watched the surging party.

"It was an
amazing fight," I said. "I watched from the casino. It was terrifying
to see you on the big screen."

His lips quirked
up in a smile, but he said nothing.

"We need to
talk, don't we?" I asked. "Can we talk?"

"I wanted to
thank you for the black cat," Fenton said. "My mother had a black cat
that she loved. It was the whole reason I don't believe in luck. You make your
own luck, right?"

"You're
welcome," I said. "I don't think tonight had anything to do with
luck. You might not show it, but you work hard."

"Maybe it’s
time I start working smarter, too," he said. "I talked to Kev and
Aldous and they deserve a raise. I'm willing to sign your deal. Tell your
clients they've got my endorsement. Build in a percentage for my manager and
coach and send over the new contract. I'm ready to sign."

"That's
great, it's a great deal. You won't regret it," I said. "But that
wasn't really what I wanted to talk about."

"Let's just
get the business out of the way," Fenton said. He pushed away from me and
was swallowed back up by the happy crowd.

I stumbled back
against the wall and leaned there. All he was interested in was the business
deal. It hurt. Now, I knew how it felt and now I knew why I had kept it between
us this whole time. Everyone I cared about disappeared. The only constant was
my work. A steady paycheck took care of me and new clients filled my days. That
was all I had needed. Until I met Fenton Morris.

I watched him
rejoin the leggy blonde. Together, they flirted for the cameras and danced late
into the night. Finally, the camera crew put down their equipment and joined
the party. The dancing got wild, then sloppy, then slow. People broke off from
the crowd in pairs and small groups. The party broke up somewhere close to
dawn.

The wild hope that
Fenton would be different when everyone left died when Sienna stayed behind. I
thought maybe once everyone was gone that Fenton would change back into the man
I had seen glimpses of before. I hoped I would be the one to see him drop his
act and be himself. Instead, he was wrapped up tight with Sienna on the white
sofa and I felt sick from drinking too much champagne.

I tipped the
catering staff as they started to clean up and then slipped out onto the
balcony. If I kept my eyes on the horizon, I could see the desert and forget
about all the fool's gold and glitter. I leaned against the railing and was
glad for the cool breeze. I had nothing to complain about. Fenton would sign
the deal, I would get my bonus, and with it, I would be able to convince my
boss to let me set up my office in Las Vegas.

I tried to
concentrate on work and not the crumbling feeling in my heart.