Alex (A Cocky Cage Fighter Novel Book 9) Read online

  “That’s great and all, Dad, but I am perfectly happy with all the money,” I assure him, knowing full well money can’t buy everything. If it did, I would be the IFC Welterweight Champion of the World, instead of a nobody as far as the cage fighting circuit goes. “And just taking a guess, I don’t think being homeless will help my love life.”

  So what if I’ve never been in love? Most of my friends’ parents are divorced or married and miserable anyway. And then there’s our dad, who still hasn’t gotten over the heartbreak of losing his wife twenty years ago. Why would I want to put myself through the torture of settling down if that’s all relationships have to offer?

  “Love doesn’t care about money,” he replies with a wistful smile. “I remember when your mother and I were living in our first apartment, this one-room studio with peeling wallpaper, a leaking ceiling when it rained, and hot water that only lasted two minutes of your shower, at most. You know what she used to tell me?” he asks.

  “Hurry up and become rich?” I joke.

  Ignoring my comment, his smile grows even bigger, and he says, “That falling asleep and waking up with me there with her each day made her the happiest woman in the world.”

  “But she was happier when you got to move into a nicer house, right?” I surmise.

  “You’re missing the point, son. Where we were wasn’t important to either of us,” he tells me on a heavy sigh. Then he asks, “I assume you have enough money for a bus ticket?”

  “A bus ticket?” I repeat. “You want me to take the bus? Why can’t I just ride back to the house with you and take one of my cars?”

  “You’ll take the bus, a cab, or walk carefully, especially at intersections; but from this moment until a year from now, the only possessions you own are in that duffle,” he says, pointing to the bag at my feet. “You’ll have to find a place to live; and when you run out of money, you’ll have to get a job.”

  “A job? How am I supposed to get a job when I don’t have a degree or any skills except halfway decent cage fighting?”

  “There are plenty of entry-level jobs out there. I washed cars and even valeted at a hotel in my youth,” Dad says. “Finding gainful employment is your decision to make now. Do whatever you want, whatever makes you happy. And know that I will always be here for you. Just call me if you need help and can’t do it.”

  I let out a sigh of relief hearing that little caveat.

  “So, if I just give up like right now, it’s done?” I ask for clarification.

  “It’s done,” my father confirms with a nod. “I’ll let you move back home. You’ll always have a place under my roof, but you’ll no longer have access to my charge account. Your trust fund will be zeroed out and closed. All your cars will be sold, and you’ll work for my company or find your own job to pay me rent, utilities, food, and insurance. Which means there will be little to no time for training or that fighting that you idiotically insist on pursuing…”

  “Wait,” I say, holding a hand up to stop him. “So, you’re telling me that my choices are live on my own for an entire year or lose my trust fund and be forced to give up fighting to work for you?”

  “You wouldn’t have to work for me, but I would expect that I could pay you a better salary than most companies,” my father replies with a smug smile.

  “Oh, my God,” I mutter, rubbing the sides of my head that is threatening to blow off.

  “You can do this, Alex. I have faith in you. When I was just twenty-one, I went out on my own, paid my way through school, and look at me now. Just think, if you succeed, in a year you can do whatever you want with your money. Anything you want to buy, whether it’s your own private island or a professional sports team, it’ll be your decision. I know you don’t want any part of the company, so here’s your chance to prove to me that you can live without this life of luxury.”

  “But I don’t want to live without the luxury,” I grumble. “And I have a girlfriend here…” Okay, so Savannah isn’t technically my girlfriend. She’s just a girl I spend a lot of time with, mostly naked.

  “It’s not as bad as you think,” Dad says, clasping a hand on my shoulder. “Maybe you’ll even surprise yourself. And you have to admit that without the money, you can finally see who your real friends are. How many of your buddies from last night would hang out with you if you were broke?” he asks.

  I start to say all of them, but I could be wrong. We would all still hang out even if I didn’t pay for everything, right?

  “And this ‘girlfriend’ of yours, what do you think she’ll say if she finds out you’re riding the bus or walking from now on?” Frowning while crossing his arms over his chest, he says, “I hope I’m wrong, but not everyone will treat you the same as before. That’s how you know their true character.”

  “Savannah won’t care,” I say, even if he’s already planted a seed of doubt.

  “We’ll see,” he replies with a nod. “I want you to be careful out there. I’ll have Rowe keeping tabs on you wherever you decide to go. We’ll co-sign, of course, if needed for housing. And for the love of God, don’t let anyone find out how much you’re worth. Not just because that would also void your trust fund if I find out you’re bragging about it; but because without our guards watching your back, you’ll be putting yourself in danger.”

  “I can take care of myself,” I assure him.

  My sister and I were born heirs to a millionaire, which is why Rowe taught us self-defense when we were kids, so we could try and protect ourselves if someone tried to snatch us up to demand ransom. Not that anyone could make it past our small army of guards without getting shot, but the threat has always been there. Training then became my favorite pastime, yet I don’t think my father has ever actually seen me fight. He thinks it’s a waste of time, but I’ve worked my ass off for ten years trying to improve and kick ass, earning respect in the sport even if I don’t have his.

  “Good luck, son. I hope I don’t see you for a year,” he says. And after a quick, masculine embrace, my father leaves me standing alone, on a bridge, with nothing but a duffle bag at my feet.

  Chapter One

  Six months later…

  Whitney Merchant

  “Today is not just any day; it’s the first day of the rest of my life,” I tell my sister Abby when she opens the front door of her and Senn’s house.

  “Overdramatic much?” she asks with a roll of her brown eyes, her little girl Eden resting on her hip and playing with Abby’s long, chestnut-colored braid.

  “Okay, so maybe it’s just the first day of a new single life, but still, that’s pretty damn important,” I reply. “Now gimme,” I say, holding my arms out for my niece, who leans toward me willingly with a toothy grin.

  “Hi, beautiful girl,” I coo at Eden when she’s in my arms and kiss each of her chubby cheeks. It takes a great deal of strength not to start bawling like a baby at the reminder of what I’ll never have.

  “I don’t know why you even agreed to go out with that chump Mom set you up with, much less stay with him for a year or however long,” Abby mutters as she leads the way into their living room where toys are scattered all over the floor.

  “Eleven months.” Eleven long months trying to be patient in a passionless relationship and make it work, yet all it took was one little pregnancy scare for Ryan to snap my heart into pieces like it was nothing more than a Kit Kat bar.

  “Mom's dates are better than no dates,” I say, taking a seat on the living room floor to stack blocks with Eden rather than admit the whole pathetic truth to my sister. “Besides, you know Vivian would nag the fu-udge out of me until I caved. Ugh, and she is gonna be sooo pissed when she finds out I won’t be marrying into the Blakely family, helping her climb the next social ladder in the messed-up version of Candy Land we’ve been playing my entire life. But enough is enough!”

  “What’s the rush? You’re only twenty-two. And you don’t need her to get you dates, Whit. The only people her and Dad associate with are pretent
ious pricks with sticks up their…dark places,” Abby argues, being careful of cursing around her daughter, who has started saying a few words like da-da, ma-ma, and bye-bye.

  “Some of them are…okay,” I argue. “And Ryan was nice; he was just so freaking boring!” And he didn’t love me enough to stick by my side once he found out I was broken.

  “By boring, do you mean he couldn’t make you see stars?” Abby asks while waggling her eyebrows.

  “He couldn’t show me the stars even if we were riding in a rocket ship on a continuous orbit around the moon while looking through a high-powered telescope,” I admit, which is freaking depressing on top of everything else.

  Abby laughs until she snorts while I glare at her.

  “Sorry,” she eventually says.

  “It’s all just so frustrating!” I whine. “Why can’t I find a hot, decent man? One who can buy me a big beautiful house in a nice neighborhood with a giant backyard? Not an estate just for social parties but one with enough bedrooms to tuck in all the babies we…” Adopt. “Have after many, many wonderful, stargazing nights? You know, like a sitcom family, not the one we were born into?”

  “Sorry, Whit, but I’m pretty sure those families don’t exist except on all those old scripted television shows you watch,” Abby says, trying to burst my happy, fantasy bubble.

  “Oh, yes, they do exist!” I counter. “That’s what you have,” I say, gesturing to Eden, who is slobbering around the letter A block she’s trying to fit into her tiny mouth.

  “Everything may look perfect to you from the outside, but Senn and I still have our problems and the occasional argument where I just want to slap him silly.”

  “But you love each other and work out your issues,” I point out. “And I bet you have plenty of starry nights.”

  “Oh yeah, there are always plenty of stars,” Abby replies with a smile.

  “See! Where can I find a hot, sexy fighter who can give me both babies and stars?” I ask right before the answer to where to find at least half of that equation hits me. “Never mind! Gotta go!” I say, giving Eden a quick kiss on the top of her head goodbye.

  “You’re leaving?” Abby asks.

  “Bye-bye!” Eden looks up and tells me with a grin, opening and closing her tiny fist in the air.

  “Oh, my God, she’s adorable!” I tell Abby on my way out the door. “You’re so freaking lucky. I’ll call you later!”

  “Don’t do anything crazy that you’ll regret in the morning!” my sister calls out before I close the door on her.

  What if I want to do something crazy for once in my life?

  Seriously though, the breakup with Ryan was about more than the fact that I’m barren and he hasn’t given me an orgasm in, like, ever. The two of us had absolutely nothing in common. He was all serious, always working and watching the History Channel twenty-four seven. How boring, right? And I’m a spontaneous, I Love Lucy or any other funny sitcom kind of girl when I’m not shopping. I need someone who is exciting. Someone who will keep me on my toes and make them curl as frequently as possible. While Ryan may have been my first real relationship, and it hurts that he was so quick to pull the emergency brake, I know in my heart that he just wasn’t “the one” in or out of bed.

  The former is why I’ve decided to drive my horny ass over to Havoc --- well, after a quick detour home to change clothes.

  Dressed again in the shortest black dress I own and the tallest heels to make my short legs look as long and lean as possible, I tiptoe down the stairs as quietly as I can, hoping my mother won’t hear me.

  I fail miserably.

  “Where are you going looking like that?” my mother asks from the bottom of the staircase, wearing a caviar-colored pantsuit with her auburn hair smoothed back in a chignon. “Never mind. I don’t want to know,” she adds with a wave of her hand. “What’s this I hear about you breaking up with Ryan?”

  “Yes, we finally ended things,” I reply rather than admit I was dumped or why.

  “Well, you can do better than Ryan anyway,” she tuts while fidgeting with the pearls around her neck, surprising the shit out of me since I’m never good enough for her or anyone else. “You need to be home at a decent hour tonight to get plenty of rest. We have a guest coming over tomorrow afternoon, so you need to look your best.”

  “Why? What does your guest have to do with me?” I ask, annoyed and anxious to get to Havoc before all the fighters leave for the night.

  “Now that you’re single again, I know just the perfect match for you,” my mother says excitedly.

  “Mom, no!” I exclaim, wondering how the hell she’s already made a new life plan for me when Ryan and I just ended things this morning. “I’m not letting you set me up with anyone again. This is my life, and I’ll decide who to date!” I declare as I tromp down the stairs and past her.

  “Now wait just a second!” she yells as she follows me to the door. “You have no idea how important it is for you to meet Kenneth and hit it off with him tomorrow.”

  “I don’t care!” I shout back. “I’m not doing it. I just wasted nearly a year of my life with a boring guy trying to ‘hit it off’.”

  I try to open the front door, but my mother jumps in front of me and places her back against it.

  “We didn’t tell you or your sister because we didn’t want to worry you, but last month your father wasn’t in New York on business. He had a heart attack.”

  “What?” I gasp in shock. “Dad…dad had a heart attack?”

  While my mother is barely tolerable, I’ve always been a daddy’s girl. He may act all tough and unemotional to most people, including Abby, but not me.

  “The doctor put in a stent, and he’s been on medications ever since…”

  “But he’s still working! I saw him going to work just this morning,” I argue.

  “He refuses to stop working, because, well, the company’s in trouble. Your father’s trying to find investors to keep from going bankrupt or having to sell.”

  “I don’t understand,” I mutter as the room begins to spin. “How long has this been going on?” I ask.

  “Business has been slow for a few years now. Your father keeps assuring me everything will be fine, but I’m not buying it. His payout the last nine months wasn’t enough to even cover the mortgage. Our savings are dwindling. By this time next year, we could lose the house; but that’s only if your father doesn’t kill himself from the stress first.”

  “Oh, my God,” I say, unable to believe everything my mother has suddenly decided to dump on me. Wait, why is she suddenly dumping it all on me? “Why are you telling me this now?” I ask in concern.

  “Well, your breakup with Ryan couldn’t have come at a better time,” she says on a sigh. “Kenneth York is incredibly rich and handsome,” she informs me. “His grandfather just died, leaving him his entire estate because he didn’t get along with his son. Kenneth’s a potential investor your father has talked to…”

  “So, you want me to whore myself out?” I ask indignantly. It was one thing to date the guys in my mother’s particular social circle but quite another thing to go out with someone for his money.

  “Think about your father! Do you want him to work himself to death?” she yells at me. “Do you want us kicked out on the street?”

  “How is this my responsibility?” I ask.

  “If we had any other choice, I wouldn’t even ask this of you!” she replies. “But we don’t, Whitney. This is our last chance to save your father and his company that he built from the ground up. It means everything to him!”

  My dad’s technology business has always come first. In fact, Abby and I rarely saw him growing up because he was always working, and mom was always out spending his money. But still, I can’t stand the thought of him being sick or losing him.

  “All you have to do is meet Kenneth tomorrow night. See what you think of him. Can you at least do that for us?” my mother asks. It’s as close to begging as I’ve ever heard from her,
and I’m pretty sure her eyes are watering, which would be a first. She’s truly worried about my dad. Now I am too. Fuck, I don’t want him to die because I refused to help him.

  “Fine,” I reluctantly agree. “But that’s it. If I don’t like him, you can’t make me go out with him.”

  “We’ll see,” is my mother’s response.

  “So, how old is this guy? He’s not, like, ancient, is he?” I ask curiously.

  “Oh, well, he’s twenty-eight, tall, dark and handsome,” she gushes like a schoolgirl. “Wait until you meet him.”

  “Yeah, can’t wait,” I grumble. “Now will you let me go?”

  “All right, but you need to be ready in one of your nice dresses by six tomorrow, not a slutty one like you’ve got on now,” my mother says when she finally moves away from the front of the door, allowing my escape.

  “Just pull out the one you want me to wear,” I tell her over my shoulder since otherwise, I’ll have to keep changing or deal with her nagging all night long. My sister Abby would’ve worn the worst thing imaginable, but I know that sometimes you have to pick your battles.

  “Oh, and, Whitney, will you please not tell your sister?” Mom asks.

  “Why not?” I spin around and ask.

  “You know stress isn’t good for Abby. We wouldn’t want her leukemia to come back again,” she says nonchalantly. Great, pull the cancer guilt card on me. “And your father would worry about her getting sick again, making his heart condition worse.”

  “Jeez, fine. I won’t say anything to either of them. For now. But I can’t promise that I won’t eventually,” I reply.

  “Good. Now don’t stay out too late,” she tells me with a grin that annoys me so much I have to leave before I slap her.

  Chapter Two