When two paths get crossed unintentionally, Nora Rose Lannister has to find a balance between her life and new found relationship with Axel Salvatore. Will it all be too much?
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"No. I jump to conclusions and overthink when you a...
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Five minutes until the fight. I am ready. I've been training nonstop for this moment. I sit in the back room, headphones in, blocking out the noise. Conversations buzz around me, but I'm not paying attention. My focus is elsewhere—on the fight, on the rush, on the win. I snap out of my haze when my coach waves a hand in front of me.
"Nora." His voice breaks through the music as I pull out my headphones. "You ready?" I nod once, and he doesn't need anything more. "Great. Let's go." Rising from my seat, I follow him out the door, down the long corridor leading to the arena. The sound of my footsteps echoes as anticipation curls low in my stomach. Cameras flash in my face as I walk, but this isn't anything new. It never is. The lights. The bets. The paparazzi. The fights.
This is my life. Gangs, businessmen, and whoever else join the chaos, placing their bets and cheering for a winner. But nothing ever stays underground for long. I learned that the hard way. My hoodie is pulled low over my head, my eyes on the floor as I push through the crowd. Boxing is the only thing that's ever given me a sense of control, the only thing that dulls the edges of my home life that has been nothing but a mess.
But underground boxing? That's different. It opens up a world I never knew existed—and one I can't imagine leaving. Most of my time is spent training or hanging out with friends, and that is enough. Love isn't something I need.
No pain. No feelings. No problems.
The paparazzi never miss a chance to pry.
"Red, any future prospects?"
"Nora, when will there be a Mr.?"
I ignore the questions, keeping my head down and my focus sharp. The crowd buzzes around me, some cheering, some just watching, waiting to see if I slip. Then, out of nowhere, someone bumps into me so hard it jars me back to reality. I stumble, and my airpod drops to the ground.
"Oh, I'm sorry," I say quickly, crouching to pick it up. My fingers close around the AirPod, but when I look up, the apology dies on my tongue. Brown eyes—rich, steady, impossible to ignore—lock on mine. For a second, the chaos of the crowd fades. The lights, the cameras, the shouting—it all blurs into nothing. All I feel is the weight of his gaze holding me in place.
"That was definitely my fault," he says, his voice low, a laugh curling out of him like smoke. It's the kind of sound that slides under my skin, warm and disarming, and before I can stop myself, I'm smiling back.
"I'm guessing you're the star of the night?" he asks, casually tightening the watch on his wrist, though his eyes never leave mine. The noise of the crowd presses in, cameras flashing, people screaming my name, but it all feels muted beneath the sharp pull of his attention.
