Streets of Valencia (#2 in The Billionaire Series)

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER SEVEN

No, this was the fighter she'd seen punching the bag in the gym. This couldn't be Juan, but it was, as that fighter had been him. Federica's eyes remained wide with surprise. She'd thought him foreboding before, in an alley way? Federica reflected on this: she remembered his bruising on that first day, considered his scarred lip, and took in the bulk she feared and, sadly, she admitted, admired. He fit the profile of a pit fighter.

Suddenly, he glanced up. Federica held her breathe. She hadn't spoken that loudly, only a gasp of his name had left her lips, but his gaze fell on her without further seeking the location of the sound. And, for that moment, he held her surprised stare with a satirical smile that quickly washed away any shock she felt. It was possibly a moment, but Federica's shock ebbed away as disappointment replaced it, fueled by that mockery and her own saddened feelings.

He was mocking her? But, of course he was mocking her. How had she forgotten the events of the alleyway? He'd mocked her then, had dared her to come here, and she had done just that. She'd told him she needed permission to go anywhere, and still, she'd snuck out of her house to come here, pushed by his words. Now she possibly looked like an amiable girl.

Embarrassed and mortified by her own doing, she closed her mouth with a finality, and stared at him with a soft, polite smile as she held his stare, and waved her greeting. She was already here, and was curious to see this fight. Interested or not, she would still support him.

But Juan's lips remained curled in that same form, until his gaze flickered over her in slow perusal. Heat blasted her body: how much dumber could she get? He'd swayed her with 'enlightenment' in that alleyway, and now she was in this club, about to watch his fight. Now he possibly thought her a naïve, sex intrigued girl for being present. She had to correct him. She couldn't let him think that. She'd done this for herself, not him. She would show him that, she promised.

"What's this?" the speaker said, pulling his gaze back to the arena. "Who-hoo, señoritas, Gonzalez is already picked his price."

This didn't help, especially as her cheeks darkened. Glances were cast on her, including from the offender, who braced his already covered hands on the top railing and cast a sensual glance over her, smirking appreciatively. She felt disgusted, but tilted her chin upward and maintained a strong stand. When would explanation and clearance time come? Cynthia, her supposed best friend, cat called. She glared at the girl who only laughed.

"She's mighty fine, brother," the speaker said as Antonio jumped onto the ring, ducking in through the ropes. Santiago climbed up with him, and everything Federica had ever seen in any fight club proceeded. Bruno got to work on his shoulders, while Santiago and Emilio drilled advice after advice on him, but from the sudden smile, she guessed Santiago had just made a joke.

"Defender, offender," the speaker called. Santiago, Bruno and Emilio both jumped off.

"Take him down, brother," Santiago said. "He's nothing; you can beat him as quickly as you want it."

Federica's brows furrowed curiously, and continued to frown as the boy came to stand with them, body tensed as he watched the ring. She wanted to point out that between the two in the ring, they seemed both a formidable match, but she reconsidered this. Experience would later lend a hand to Martinez, especially if he played his cards right.

After watching so many matches with Cynthia, she knew experience with your opponent was equally good and bad. She silently hoped it was good for Juan and bad for Martinez. Roxana took her arm again. She didn't need to turn to know the girl was suddenly nervous.