"You work for me. You could look like you give a damn." This has me as worked up as the fight and I find myself raising my voice, which isn't normal for me.
"If I reacted to every good-looking man who threw fists, I'd never be able to focus on what's going on."
I sink onto the stool in front of me and rest my forearms on my knees. "What's really going on, then?"
"The man you're fighting has too wide of a stance." She cocks her head a little and sighs, pushing her chest out, though the shirt she wears hides her figure. "He's distributing his balance too far apart and he's leading with his right every time."
"So?"
"So if you open with a left hook rather than a right cross, it'll catch him on the wrong side and throw his balance off completely." She narrows her eyes and leans forward toward me. "His left foot is already too far out. A left hook will make him shift to compensate, and when he does, his center drops."
"And then?"
"And then you hit him with the right and he goes down." I watch her tongue draw over her bottom lip before she says, "You could end it in the first thirty seconds of the next round if you stop leading with your right hand."
I hear the bell and know I have sixty seconds to take the ring again, but suddenly, I'm fascinated by this woman. No wonder she was so focused and not screaming her head off like the others.
"Where did you learn to read a fight?"
"My father… I watched boxing with him when my mother was going through chemo." Her head dips and she looks back up at me as someone knocks on the door, nudging me to get out there. "Trust me. Do it my way and you'll win." She rises, and I stand from the stool.
It's clunky and awkward with these damn gloves on, but I kiss her hard and her mouth opens to allow me to explore her. Her hands come up and splay against my moist chest as I pull back.Her eyes are open and bright and her lips are swollen, and there's a smear of blood on her cheek from my cut.
"My stepsisters are up to no good," she says softly. "And if you let them distract you, that man out there is going to take you apart next round."
"You're worried about me."
"I'm worried about your judgment." She reaches up and touches the cut on my jaw with her fingertip, and I feel it sting. "And you shouldn’t be kissing me. You need to go fight."
I wipe the blood off her cheek with my glove. I'd rather stay here kissing her, learning more about that incredible mind. But she pushes me.
"Go," she says.
So I turn and walk out of the locker room and down the ramp toward the ring. The noise hits me when I come through the door, a wall of sound that fills my chest and vibrates.
Yegor's at the corner with the water bottle. He ducks through the ropes and pulls the stool, and I climb in and stand in my corner and roll my shoulders and feel the tape pull against my wrists.
"You good?" Yegor asks, narrowing his eyes on me.
"I'm good."
"Then end it."
The bell rings, and I come out leading with my left just like Mila coached me to. The hook catches him on the temple, and his head snaps sideways and his left foot slides out from under him exactly the way she said it would. His stance is too wide to absorb the force from a direction he wasn't expecting.
He stumbles and his gloves drop two inches. So I throw the right cross into the gap and it connects with his jaw, making his mouthguard fly out. His eyes go blank and his knees buckle and then he goes down.
The canvas shakes when he hits it. Then the ref hovers over him, counting, and the crowd explodes. I stand in the center of the ring with my gloves ready and my chest heaving as blood runs down my jaw mixed with more sweat.
That was the easiest KO I've ever had in a match, even for round three, and I owe it to Mila. She now stands in the front row clapping, and she finally has a broad smile. I lift my hands in the air as the ref declares me the winner, and the crowd goes nuts again. But now I can only look at her.
I can't believe what a lucky man I am that Mila is in my corner, and it causes me to rethink everything I know about her. I've already made up my mind about marrying her, but the notion that it's only about her family empire is gone now, replaced by a desperate need to consume everything she is and everything she does and make her a part of my life.
19
MILA
From the instant he takes the ring, Roman looks like a different man. He stands taller. His gloves are higher and his shoulders are squared. The advice I gave him helps him knock out the opponent in under twenty seconds, and I can't believe the explosive reaction from his fans. People everywhere are screaming and chanting his name as the ref calls the fight in his favor.
