In Sidney Halston’s latest sizzling MMA romance, a former title contender turns the tables on his knockout trainer with a lesson in seduction.
Once one of the most sought-after names on the mixed martial arts circuit, Antonio “Scarface” Marino watched his career go down for the count as he chased skirts and made tabloid headlines. Now he’s finally making a comeback, and it’s all thanks to Francesca Silva, a Brazilian bombshell as tough as any of her fighters. But who’s the real Francesca: the trash-talking trainer who rides him hard, or the vulnerable woman who blushes at his touch?
Francesca went to the mat to sign Tony because she believes he still has the potential to bring big success to her gym—if she can keep his head in the cage and out of her personal life. After a short-lived marriage soured her on love, a one-night stand is all she can handle. Now Tony’s kisses are stirring up complicated feelings—especially when he agrees to face her ex in the ring. Francesca’s used to freezing guys out. But Tony’s tempting her to give in to the heat.
But then he saw red hair draped over the back of a lawn chair a few
feet from the pool. As he opened the gate and approached her, he saw a magazine
lying open on her chest and a glass of wine on the small table next to her. She
had fallen asleep still wearing her formfitting business suit. Her high heels
sat neatly on the patio next to her. He had half expected her to open the door
wearing her pajamas, but God forbid she would ever have a hair out of place. He
wasn’t sure how to proceed. He kneeled next to her.
“Francesca, wake up.” No response. “Francesca.” He tapped her on the
shoulder. Nothing.
Slightly annoyed by the situation—he couldn’t very well leave her
outside—he gently scooped her up and stood. He was sure she would wake up and
kick him in the balls for touching her. For a brief moment he contemplated
tossing her in the pool as payback for being so judgmental and mean after the
fight. As if she’d heard his thoughts, though, she stirred slightly and nestled
closer to him, and any thoughts about retribution quickly subsided. Carefully
he opened the sliding door and walked inside and down a hall to the first room
he found.
He laid her gently on the bed, but as soon her body made contact with
the mattress, she startled and instinctively jumped up off the bed in one quick
movement. “What the hell?” Her eyes were wide, and she was standing in a way
that reminded him of a fighter about to pounce on his opponent.
He held his hands out in front of him. “Calm down. It’s just me.”
“T-Tony? What the hell are you doing?” She looked from side to side,
as if trying to figure out what was happening.
“You were asleep.” Suddenly he felt ridiculous. “Outside.” He indicated
toward the door with his thumb. “You fell asleep outside. I couldn’t just leave
you there.”
Still standing in her defensive pose, she snapped, “What are you
even doing here?”
What was he doing there? What the hell had been the
point? Oh, yeah . . . he was going to give her a piece of his mind. Instead, what
came out of his mouth was, “What’s up with your hair?”
She looked at him as though he’d grown a second head, then brought
her hands to her hair and pulled out the rubber band holding it in place. “What
the hell, Tony?” She ran to a mirror. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
She was in the middle of smoothing her hair when he put out a hand
to stop her. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I’ve just never seen you look . .
. not perfect. Do you sleep in a suit?” He reached out and touched the lapel of
her white oxford shirt.
“Oh, stop.” She shooed his hand away, still fussing with her hair.
“I fell asleep. I didn’t know you’d be stopping by.” She pointed at him.
“Speaking of clothes, I’ve never seen you dressed up.”
He looked down at his slacks. “I went out.”
“Figured you would,” she said, her hands on her hips.
He ran a finger down her arm; he couldn’t help
it. He wanted to stop, but he needed to touch her; for months he’d been dying
to touch her. “You look beautiful. You always look beautiful.”
DELETED SCENE
Francesca felt a hand press against her lower back and a warm breath close to her ear.
“I wouldn’t leave you alone for one second, if I was here with you.” She whipped her head to the side to see Chavez, Tony’s opponent, uncomfortably close. Next to him was another guy. Both were crowding her.
“So, you want to get out of here?” Chavez asked.
“Leave me alone.” Francesca took a step away from the men when she realized she was not in the safest spot and they were just too close to her. She was in a semi-secluded hallway with bad lighting. One end of the hallway seemed to be the exit to the parking and the other led the way back into the arena. She tried to turn and head back to the arena but the other guy stood in front of her blocking her path. She turned and Chavez was right behind her with his arms crossed and a big creepy grin. “Get outta my way, Chavez.” She took a step forward but he took a step to his side. She stepped to the other side and he again took a step. “Really?”
“What?” He laughed. “You’re free to go,” He stood aside and did a slight bow and swiped his arm across. As she went to pass him, he extended his arm and grabbed her by her waist. She caught a whiff of the alcohol in his breath.
“Let me go!”
“One kiss.” He said as he leaned forward, she could hear the other man snickering behind her.
“I said, let me go,” But even as she said that, she grabbed and held on to the arm that was wrapped around her waist. As she twisted herself free, and before he even knew what was happening, she was behind him with one arm around his neck and the other holding his arm behind his back, uncomfortably high. “I told you not to touch me, you sonofabitch! I can dislocate your arm if you move a muscle.”
“What the f***?” She heard Tony practically growl from behind her.
“Let go of me you, c**t.” Chavez whimpered.
Before she could tell Tony she had the situation under control, Tony dislodged Francesca’s arm from around Chavez, and grabbed Chavez’s neck with his hand. “What the f*** did you call her, mother****?” He said as he squeezed.
The man’s face was red and his eyes bulged out as tears leaked out the sides. The other
man lunged toward Tony and before Tony could react, wrapped his hand around Tony’s throat, just like Tony was doing to Chavez. Without hesitating, Francesca quickly grabbed the man’s wrist with one hand and with the other one, rammed the palm of her hand against the man’s elbow, immediately hyperextending it and breaking it. The man yelled and collapsed and Tony released Chavez.
“Call the cops, Francesca. Go.”
“Yeah. Call the f****ing cops, b***h, because I’m pressing charges. You attacked me first.” Chavez said, holding his shoulder. His friend in a ball on the floor clutching his broken elbow.
“You wouldn’t let go of me.” Francesca shouted.
“You f****g touched her?” Tony barked and took step forward but Francesca grabbed his forearm to keep him from any further violent act.
“She almost dislocated my shoulder.” Chavez said. “If you hadn’t come in, she’d ‘ave
broken my arm.”
“Just go.” Francesca said. “I won’t call the cops and you take your friend to the hospital. There’ll never believe you over me so just get the hell out of here.” The two men looked at each
other and nodded before leaving.
When they were gone, Tony reached for Francesca and patted her cheeks, shoulders, arms. “Are you okay? What the happened? Did they hurt you? I’ll kill them.”
“I’m fine.” She stopped him from his continuous patting. “Tony, I’m fine. I told you I was raised with fighters. I’m a black belt in jiu jitsu. I used to fight professionally until I was eighteen. He deserved it, but I attacked first.”
Tony stopped what he was doing and looked down at her, dumbfounded. “You w-what?
You mean you didn’t break his elbow by accident? You knew the exact technique. You were
holding his arm when I walked out purposefully?”
She nodded. “I told you, I know jiu jitsu.”
Sidney Halston lives her life with one simple rule: “The secret of getting ahead is getting started.” Mark Twain, or even simpler, “Just Do It” Nike.
And that’s exactly what she did. After working hard as an attorney, Sidney picked up a pen for the first time at thirty years old to begin her dream of writing. Having never written anything other than very exciting legal briefs, she found an outlet for her imaginative romantic side and wrote Seeing Red, among four other novels currently in the works, including the sequel to Seeing Red. That first pen stroke sealed the deal and she fell in love with writing.
Sidney lives in South Florida with her husband and children. She loves her family above all else, and reading follows a close second. When she’s not writing you can find her reading and reading and reading… She’s a reader first and a writer second.
When she’s not writing or reading her life is complete and utter chaos trying to balance family life with work, and writing (and reading). But she wouldn’t have it any other way.
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