Love of the Game - The Complete Collection (Box Set) Page 4

  “No man will manhandle a woman, especially my woman, around me and get away with it. Yes, she is magnificent and still a great athlete.”

  One of the reporters in the back shouted, “Is she as good in bed as everyone guesses?”

  Nikolai stiffened and seemed to surround her more fully as she stared forward in stunned silence. “Another question like that and you will eat that microphone. We are done. You want an interview, that is no problem, but you ask questions such as that and it all stops.”

  With that, he put his hand across the small of her back and cleared a path into the hotel. In the elevator, he didn’t release her.

  “Thanks for that.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  Nikolai sighed heavily. “Demitria, you have no need to thank people for doing the right thing. Outside of your family, I think you have had some very bad examples of how people treat each other. We will work on getting you used to niceness again.”

  Then he pulled her close and dropped a kiss on her forehead. She’d never wanted him more than she did right this minute.

  At her floor, he guided her to the suite she shared with Claire. Her assistant opened the door with concern that immediately morphed into a smug grin at the sight of Nikolai’s arm around Demi’s waist. He helped her inside and settled her on a chair.

  “That shiner is bigger than I remember. Let me get something on it. You okay?”

  Nikolai excused himself with a final look at Demitria and she watched as he left the room in long strides. Claire closed the door behind him.

  “Demi! Tell me what is going on? You’ve been in major infatuation-slash-lust with that man for years. I thought for sure your family would be smothering you by now.”

  Demi shook her head slowly. “I have no idea. He just told the reporters outside we’re dating. I can’t believe he just said it like that.”

  How I wish it were true.

  “Claire, I can’t spend time alone with Nikolai. I’m so susceptible to him. I want to jump him constantly. Even stranger, I want piggyback rides or something. It’s so bizarre. I’m an idiot around him, I always have been.”

  Claire didn’t answer but Demi hadn’t expected her to. She smoothed her hair in a comforting gesture and helped her to the shower, standing guard in case her friend needed help.

  When Demi slipped on a tank top and pajama pants, Claire got her settled on the couch with a drink and the remote in easy reach before heading out to fill her prescriptions.

  Her head pounded less violently and she was losing that feeling of having her finger at the back of her throat. The moment she closed her eyes, she fell asleep.

  It was almost dark when her phone rang. She jerked awake, confused about where she was and why she felt like crap. Sitting up too quickly, she grabbed her head in agony, and put the phone carefully to her ear. It was Claire.

  “Hey…” she mumbled, feeling hung over. “I’m okay. I’m okay. My head is foggy and I’m a little dizzy, probably from sleeping. When do I ever sleep during daylight? I don’t have time for this, Claire. Where am I supposed to be?”

  Demi hated the feeling of disorientation she couldn’t shake. “I think I need that nausea medication. Will you grab some ginger ale? I’ll live. Nikolai has better things to do than babysit me. Tell Dad to relax. Okay, I…I need to go, Claire.”

  She tossed the phone away and stumbled toward the small half-bath, dropping to her knees in front of the toilet. There was nothing to throw up, but she dry-heaved hard and the pressure it caused in her head had tears running down her face.

  When warm hands gathered up her hair and placed a cool washcloth on her forehead, she was too grateful to be embarrassed. Finally, the cramps stopped and she tried to stand.

  Nikolai lifted her easily and stood her in front of the sink.

  The heat of his chest sinking into her back felt better than anything so simple had a right to. He turned on the cold water so she could wash her face and brush her teeth.

  When she was done, he handed her a small towel. The moment she put it on the counter, he lifted her carefully behind her knees, and carried her back to the couch. Instead of laying her down, he sat with her on his lap and rubbed her back. He kept her snugly against his chest.

  “I’m…sorry, Nikolai. I should have told you to leave me in there alone. I didn’t know you were here.”

  “I would not have left if you had demanded it of me.” He kissed the top of her head. “Demitria, it is important you know the difference between being weak, which you are not, and needing help because you are hurt. I am happy to help you, honored actually.”

  Demi placed her hand over his heart and fell back to sleep.

  The most feared man in wrestling held her close, savoring the scent and feel of her in his arms. For the first time in many years, his heart relaxed.

  Chapter Six

  Nikolai Sascha Petrov had come to the United States when he was seventeen, fresh off a boat from Russia, having worked his way over on a fishing trawler. He’d managed to find work at a fish market in Seattle, Washington.

  He was illegal, underage, and barely spoke English.

  The young man’s love for America, a burning desire to make a better life for himself, and the commitment to send money to his mother back home was strong. The menial job paid twice what he was able to earn in his homeland and he was content.

  His unusual size and natural grace caught the attention of Mikhail Stavos. Nikolai would soon realize that Mikhail always kept his eyes open for new talent.

  Stavos approached and talked to him for a while. They struggled with each other’s accent. The older man told him that when his shift ended, they needed to talk more. He gave him a business card and money for a cab.

  When Nikolai showed up at the training facility for Stavos Wrestling, he was certain he was setting himself up for disappointment.

  By the time he’d been in the ring with two of Mikhail’s wrestlers for ten minutes, the older man was clapping loudly with a huge grin on his face.

  They brought in a tutor to assist him with English and he trained with Oscar six days a week. He worked at the facility and Stavos Wrestling sponsored him for citizenship.

  Within two years, he was a United States citizen with a good job, a car, and living in a small apartment over the Stavos garage.

  He brought his mother to the United States and bought her a condo in Florida where she wouldn’t have to be cold anymore. She called him several times a week just to tell him she loved him.

  He was her youngest and the only one of her children still living. His mother had lived a brutal life. Now, she sat at the beach across from her condominium and read books to her heart’s content.

  Everything he had, all the good things he’d been able to do, were because of Mikhail Stavos and the opportunities he’d given him. He would work for Mikhail for the rest of his life, in any capacity, no matter the offers for more money or fame.

  Nikolai had more than he needed and he understood loyalty.

  The memories of those first years in America warmed him. Looking down at the woman in his arms made him feel like he was the most powerful man in the world.

  The first time he’d met Demitria, she’d been a tall, lanky ten-year-old; already showing hints of the beauty she’d be as an adult. She would watch him in practice for hours, sometimes mimicking his movements.

  An accomplished dancer and gymnast, Demitria was too tall to do either professionally and no one seemed to know what she planned to do with herself.

  At fourteen, her parents sent her to boarding school. For four years, the family would take long vacations to visit her. They wanted their only daughter to grow and develop away from the wrestling scene and the testosterone-charged males who frequented their business.

  Little good it had done them in the end.

  He would never forget the day they were in training and she came to the facility to work out. Little Demitria had done a lot of growing up.

  From the first momen
t he’d seen her as an adult, Nikolai had felt a strange tightening in his chest.

  Wearing snug pants and top, she’d begun working the heavy bag, using a combination of martial arts and dance. She quickly bored of working out with an immovable object and asked Oscar to train with her.

  Younger, but beginning to come into his size, he couldn’t imagine sparring physically with his sister. When he refused, Demitria threw a fit. She managed to back him into the ring with her fury alone, kicking until he had no choice but to defend himself or get his head taken off.

  “Fight me, or I will find men who will, Oscar. Don’t just defend, attack, damn it!”

  Finally, his teenage temper broke and he lunged at her. He didn’t win quickly as he expected. She made him work hard, made him sweat, before he pinned her at last.

  Before he helped her up, she asked, “Will you tell me exactly what I could have done differently?”

  Over the next six weeks, she came every day, trained until she could barely walk. Then she called her father to watch as she faced Shredder in the ring. He was the only seasoned fighter who trusted himself not to hurt her.

  Nikolai fluctuated between terror and pride the entire match.

  The match lasted six minutes. By the end, they were sweaty and breathing hard. Shredder pinned her but pointed out that she’d stumbled and given him an opening.

  Her father remained silent for a long time. He took her aside and they spoke quietly before he called her mother. Mrs. Stavos agreed to let her fight and Mikhail shook his head. He knew he was outgunned in a match against the women he loved.

  Two months later, Demitria won her first women’s title.

  For three years, she held a title more often than not. Then, in a match of very little importance, another fighter caught her in the ear illegally and dazed her.

  The referee should have called the fight but didn’t. Her opponent chicken-winged her as Nikolai and Oscar charged from backstage. Disoriented and unable to defend herself, the woman had been able to dislocate the joint and tore the ligaments in Demi’s shoulder.

  Her face the moment it happened, without more than a whimper escaping her lips, still haunted Nikolai. He made it to the ring in seconds, immobilized the arm with his belt, and carried her through the building.

  Claire chased behind them, talking rapidly into her phone to the paramedics stationed with the stand-by ambulance parked in the loading dock.

  On the gurney, she didn’t make a sound, but the tears fell silently from beneath her closed eyes. His heart hurt for her and he would have taken the pain if it had been possible.

  That was when Nikolai knew that he loved her.

  For so many years, he’d avoided her. He didn’t look at her directly if he could help it because her eyes were almost too stunning to bear. Usually, he was unable to talk with her without feeling awkward and ignorant.

  He physically ached when she talked to others, her warm voice flowing over him, making him wish he could hear it while making love to her.

  He reminded himself daily that Demitria was not for him. He was not, and never would be, good enough for her.

  Nikolai watched year after year as she dated out of boredom. He knew most men didn’t interest or challenge her. When she lost her virginity at nineteen to a boy who’d been deeply in love with her, the entire facility walked on eggshells.

  She was furious for weeks. Since she didn’t believe anyone ever truly listened or cared what she had to say, she took to mumbling to herself while she hit the heavy bag. “That is fucking it? Give me a break! What was the big deal? I hate men.”

  Over time, she really did begin to hate them.

  A few months after her shoulder surgery, the tabloid explosion over the incident with Dean Swift humiliated her. Everyone in the organization knew she planned to break up with him. He used a ploy to force her to reconsider. She felt backed into a corner, made to play happy couple a little longer to avoid slut talk as she called it.

  The next time Nikolai faced him in the ring, he made Swift pay dearly for his little game.

  Mikhail traded Swift to another company but the damage was already done. Gradually, Demitria withdrew. She smiled and spoke politely with the opposite sex but wouldn’t even consider dating. It had been almost three years since her last boyfriend.

  Nikolai thought she seemed lonely...maybe as lonely as he was.

  Everything changed for him one day several months before when Mikhail asked Nikolai questions about his daughter. The older man had realized that Granite always seemed to know where she was or what she was doing.

  They were in the office when his mentor mentioned casually, “I wonder why Demi came to train today wearing sweats.”

  With his eyes on the gym floor through the large window, Nikolai unthinkingly responded, “She was not wearing sweats. She was wearing black pants and a pink top. Her hair was in one of those snug ballet buns that look so pretty…”

  The instant the words left his lips, he saw the trap. He turned to face Mikhail. “Sir, I…”

  A smile broke across Mikhail’s face. He said gruffly, “Nikolai, of all the men available to my daughter, you are the only man I think would be good for her. Why have you not approached her?”

  Noting the younger man’s shocked expression, Mikhail laughed. “Do you have some inferiority complex regarding Demi?”

  His body stiffened in response, his natural reaction to lie.

  Mikhail shook his head. “You are sadly misguided, my friend. I do not know how you have not noticed her fascination with you all these years, Nikolai.”

  Disbelieving but hopeful, he went to think. Never an impulsive man, Nikolai watched Demitria carefully. How she reacted to him as a man, not just as her father’s protégé. A new approach that had shown him what he’d been blind to for so long.

  His hope had grown.

  He noticed that the normally confident Demitria blushed around him a lot. She was his fiercest fan and supporter, bashing reporters who dared to say anything negative about him. Without letting him know, she asked Mikhail about his mother and bought books to send the older woman that she found in Russian when they traveled.

  After a particularly brutal match, she begged Anastasia to have Nikolai checked by a doctor when his ear bothered him for more than a couple of days. The day he ran out of water on a training run, she sent Claire over with more.

  Always, she pretended it wasn’t her idea. She believed her instructions were being followed to keep her actions a secret. Demitria was shy around him, unsure of herself. Polite but distant, not trusting herself to say too much directly to him.

  He’d returned to Mikhail two weeks ago and asked permission to pursue her.

  With a smile, the older man replied, “Only if you promise to move slightly faster than you have. My god, man, we talked three months ago! It took you all this time to realize you are the only man she wants? I miss her spark. She’s been on autopilot since she stopped competing and she needs something to shake her up. You are the only one she will have.”

  “No,” Nikolai said honestly. “I cannot believe that could be true.”

  “Believe it. Go get her, Granite.”

  The vision of a man’s fist hitting her face – a sucker punch – brought a part of him to life he hadn’t known he possessed. He caught Demi before she hit the pavement and lowered her gently, shouting to Claire to watch over her. Nikolai knew she called 911 within seconds.

  In that moment, Nikolai accepted that every part of him had claimed Demitria as his.

  Chapter Seven

  Rising to his feet, nothing else mattered but hurting the coward who dared to hurt his woman. Brad hit her and stomped away to yell at the stunned reporters who trailed Stavos performers everywhere they went.

  Red-faced with spit flying from his lips, he screamed, “She is a fucking dyke bitch and got less than she deserved. If she had a dick, she wouldn’t have dropped so easily. Stupid cu…”

  He never finished the sentence be
cause Nikolai spun him around and planted his fist in the other man’s face.

  Nikolai did not fight the way Granite fought.

  This wasn’t the ring. As a man defending his woman, there were no rules, there was no referee, and the only goal was causing pain. He went for the piece of shit’s face and body…hitting him again and again in places that would hurt for weeks.

  The police and paramedics pulled up but no one stepped in.

  One of the reporters gave a statement and an officer replied, “He hit a woman linked to the biggest fightin’ machine on the planet? He gets what he deserves. Just hope Granite don’t kill him. I’d hate to take that big sumbitch to jail.”

  Then he leaned back against his patrol car to watch.

  Nikolai beat Brad until he couldn’t stand anymore, until he begged for mercy. Then he got in his face, growling in fury, his accent thicker than anyone had ever heard it since he’d entered professional wrestling.

  “That is a fight, you fucking coward. You do not hit women…not ever. You go near that particular woman again and I will beat you worse.”

  He added a string of words in Russian that sounded positively violent then turned to the waiting paramedics, powered the other man into the air by his throat, and slammed him to his back on the gurney.

  Leaning close, he added quietly, “You fight professionally, for anyone, and eventually you will face me in a ring. When that happens, I will get you again.”

  Then the world rushed back and he ran to Demitria.

  Brushing the paramedics aside, he lifted her, and carried her to the car. He remembered to yell at one of the cops to meet them at the hospital and they were gone.

  Nikolai had never seen Demitria so still. He hated that she was hurting but let himself enjoy the feeling of being able to hold her and look at her up close for the first time without her being aware.

  When her shoulder was demolished, he’d been in such a panic to get her out to the ambulance; he’d been unable to enjoy the feel of her in his arms.

  Today, he looked his fill and realized she was even more beautiful than he thought. Flawless skin and long lashes competed for first place with her full lips and wing-like brows.