Fifty Shades of Fairy Tales Omnibus by Roxxy Meyer Leigh Foxlee

Author:Roxxy Meyer, Leigh Foxlee
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wild & Lawless Writers

Beauty Tames The Beasts

A MMA manager gets tangled up between two fighters.

By Roxxy Meyer

***

Beauty Tames The Beasts

“I need you to talk to the Beast for me,” Daniel says after he closes the door to my office.

“I’m guessing this is about his recent behavior?” I quirk up an eyebrow as he sits in a chair on the other side of my desk.

Daniel Milligan, my boss for over five years now, smiles that smile that makes his black eyes crinkle at the corners. “You know, Bella, I should start paying you for psychiatric services, too.”

I return his grin. At Strength Inc., Daniel’s company and one of the most respected fighter representation firms in the mixed martial arts industry, I’m known as “the calm before the storm.” I earned the nickname thanks to my ability to talk and listen to fighters who’ve hit a rough road and help bring them out of it. I’m no Carl Jung, but I’ve got a way with words and people. I’m a part of the management team, but I often find myself doubling as a fighter’s armchair therapist.

Lately, David “the Beast” Harker, one of our heavyweights and a prime candidate to win the heavyweight championship, has entered a downward spiral. He’s lost both of the last matches he’s fought--a prior unheard of happening in the Beast’s impressive record of only one loss over a career spanning thirty plus matches. He’s been surly to the media, way beyond the image bravado many fighters in this industry use to psych out their opponent. And he’s missed three meetings Daniel has called with him.

It all started when we signed for a match pitting him against current heavyweight champion, Jacques St. Pierre--media darling and a force to be reckoned with in the ring. I’ve never known the Beast to get so unnerved by an opponent, and my gut tells me more than this upcoming title match is bothering him.

I drive over to the Strength gym where our fighters practice and train. There I find the Beast sparring with another heavyweight inside one of the three smaller practice cages we have. He doesn’t notice me approaching the wire mesh until I call out to him.

“Hey Beast,” I say, and his massive head turns. “Come here.” I curl a finger at him.

He glowers. His midnight black, short hair curls behind his ears and is plastered against his skull with sweat. It beads his wrinkled forehead and runs down into his hazel eyes. “What do you want?” he growls, then goes back to sparring.

“Daniel wants us to have a little chat.” I cross my arms over my white t-shirt, which is clinging to my small but pert boobs in this summer heat. Even though the gym is air conditioned, I still haven’t cooled off after the walk from my car over black top that’s pouring out waves of oppressive warmth.

He still practices with his sparring partner, as if I’m not even there. I sigh, run a hand through my long, straight blonde hair and walk to the gate that leads inside the cage.

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