Chapter 35

Christmas Eve.LucaMendes vs Tyler Wells. London.

It was only down the road and it was about time I got back to work. In person. It had been two weeks since he held me in my hotel room when I’d seen the first article, but it felt like a lifetime.

Salihacame round to our apartment, and we got ready together like we had during the season.

Singing along to ABBA, it was like nothing had changed.

And I got out mymotorjacketthat Nix had made for me. The one that matched my lipstick and I never wanted to remove. Until he would remove it for me when we got back tonight.

We were still going to wait until the end of the season to announce our relationship.

Crishad told me over and over to not worry. My job was safe despite my lack of social media and two-week absence.

I hadn’t heard fromPrixton, my new team, and it kept me up at night that they may no longer want me, given all the articles still coming out about me.

Nix reassured me that, no matter what happened, I wouldn’t be without. He could cover my annual salary with a day’s wages, but that wasn’t the point.

I wasn’t just Nix’s girlfriend. That wasn’t my identity .

I was Livie Quinn. Publicist. Media manager. Photographer.

I was a sister, a daughter. I was a true crime fan, an awful dancer.

I was more than my reputation.

I was a sexual abuse survivor. I knew that now. I’d accepted it.

But that wasn’t just what I was.

And I missed my old friends, my job, my life.

But, more than anything, I missed her. Me.

Tonight I would drink and cheer on my friend for beating someone to a pulp.

Because that was what I wanted to do.

Nix kept his hands off me but stood just behind, arms hovering, eyes scanning faster than the security team flagging us.

Georges andLiha held hands through the stadium crowd to the front rows, whereLucahad reserved us seats. Nix made wide eyes at me and tried not to grin at their open affection before flexing his hand and jokingly going to hold mine.

If only he could.

Crisstood on seeing us and hugged me tight in the dark. As we walked past the rows of seats, there had been a number of camera flashes our way, but nothing of any concern—nothing out of the ordinary when it came to NixonArmas.

“How are you holding up?”Crisstage-whispered in the loud arena.

“I’m okay,” I said with a smile, not allowing him to let go just yet.

“I’m so proud of you,Livia,” he said and held me at arm’s length, expression sympathetic. “Your dad would be proud of you, too. I know I’m not… I know it’s not the same. But I love yo u like a daughter. You remind me of Everly.”

I nodded and bit my wobbling lip. I didn’t know Everly particularly well, just that her relationship with her dad was tumultuous, but I knew he loved her even more than he lovedCiclati.

I looked around for her. With her odd ‘relationship’ withLuca, I’d expected her to be here.

“And this is amazing!”Crissaid and gestured to my jacket. “How are you managing to get these from the design team without my say-so? The pink tops, now a jacket…”

Lihalaughed and we sat as the fights started, the music blaring to announce one of the fighter’s entrances.

There were three fights before Luca’s.

Some were brutal, all entertaining, and a few had me clutching Nix’s arm, especially when a loud crack told the stadium a bone had broken.

“Just can’t keep your hands off me, can you?” he smirked before I jumped back.

But he was right. In his shirt and jacket, I couldn’t help but think of how I’d begged him to fuck me in the stairwell of that club in Japan. And if there was anywhere here we could sneak off to where we definitely couldn’t get caught.

I knew it was impossible, but my mind kept wandering.

“You can put your hands all over me later, Livid,” he breathed in my ear.

Damn it, I wanted to straddle him before all of these people.

He looked down at me with that cocky smile that forced my thighs to press together and my throat to swallow.

His deep chuckle sounded through me as a loud song came on, announcingLuca’sarrival. The cheers erupted and he was grinning,high-fivingthose with patient hands waiting as he walked down towards the boxing ring.

He wore black shorts, with sponsors down the side andCiclation the back. Despite everything happening between him and his team, he was aCiclatiracer through and through.

LucaMendes had been worried he couldn’t be both a boxer and a racer.

And as much asCriswas proud of me, I was like a proud big sister ofLuca.

It was then that the room around me — with all its energy, excitement and noise — slipped from my hold.

I realised I was smiling. Truly smiling.

Luca’smanager greased his face asLuca’strainer gave him a pep-talk that I could hardly hear.Lucawas nodding away, shaking out his arms and his legs. Until he saw me.

A slow smile spread across his face and he raised a finger to the trainer talking.

He strolled over and frowned in mock shock. “Why aren’t you shoving a camera in my face, hmm?”

I blinked before grabbing my phone.

“This must be one of the few times you’ve seen me working with your eyes and not through a camera lens,” he joked, then gestured for me to stand. He crushed me in a hug. “I love you,Quinnie. So many people are rooting for you. Know that.”

And I did. There was something aboutLuca, the way he told me how it was with Nix at the beginning… he saw things for what they were and wasn’t afraid to say it with kindness.

No one could underestimate his heart.

There were more flashes of cameras as he lifted me from the ground but I didn’t care.

This was meant to be a low-key event, but all I wanted was the hug I needed from him .

“Come on,Ciclatialways comes first,”Lucabeamed but there was a strain in his voice. “Quick, take the picture before my manager shits himself.”

But he turned the camera around for us to take a selfie.

Some of the gel fromLuca’sface had got in my hair and I was looking down at it, trying to smooth out the matted mess as I walked up the aisle to my seat. Someone stopped me in my tracks, shouting, “LivieQuinn, right?”

The music changed to a dramatic rock song asLuca’sopponent entered.

As everyone cheered his arrival, I looked up to see the man who had called my name – he was white, mouth open and eyes dull and drunk — standing feet away.

And from there it happened fast.

He grabbed my arm and spat in my face, phlegm on my cheek that would normally make me heave if I wasn’t so taken aback.

Nix was up, standing in front of me, his arm out to protect me from the piece of shit. “I will fucking end—”

“No, Nix!” I shouted as Nix grabbed him by the scruff of his top, lifting him from the ground as he spluttered. The security we had hired surrounded us, andLucahad been stepping into the ring, hand on the boxing ropes, but his face grew stiff and furious. He jumped down behind the men, glaring at the spitter.

Nix looked over his shoulder at me and the begging in my eyes wasn’t enough for him to release the man.Lihawas holding my arm, offering me a tissue to dab at the spit, when I clocked the phone held by another man to the side.

“They’re filming, Nix,” I pleaded. “Don’t.”

And he dropped him as if he was a disgusting piece of filth. He looked to the security guards who reprimanded the stranger. “We’ll be pressing charges. And take that man’s phone.”

Thankfully, the screens above hadn’t caught the event, cameras focused on Tyler Wells amping up his fans. They’d managed to makeLuca’sanger and shock look like disgust at his opponent’s entrance.

Nix was at my side, ushering me out to the back the way we’d come. His hands were in fists as he calmed his breathing but when he turned to me, he brushed the tears from my cheeks. “What do you want to do?”

I said the words without really thinking. “I want to wash my face. Then I want to get a drink. I want to sit down and watch my friend win a fight. I want to go home and send that video to the police. To the editor of The Running Post. I want things to go back to normal.”

He nodded and turned to his men. “That’s not happening again. You want your jobs, you won’t let anyoneunvettednear her. No man is to touch her or I’ll kill them.”

“Nixon,” I warned.

“No,Livie,” he said, shaking his head. “You don’t understand. I didn’t care that the phone was recording. I didn’t care who it was that touched you. If it weren’t for your begs then I would have been the one in the ring fighting. The whole world can watch me protect what is mine, Livid. To hell with reputation, to hell with keeping us a secret. No one will touch you ever again.”

That night, after he found the video, he held me closer, tighter. I woke up in his arms, whereas normally, we dispersed in sleep.

“I’m okay,” I told him, taking his hand. “I’m going to be okay.”