Page 105 of Falcon

“That’s not necessary, ma’am,” she says.

“Oh please, of course it is. And I’m Faith. None of that ma’am stuff.” I pull some cash from my purse and slide it into her hand. “Thank you again for bringing up my breakfast.”

She slides the tip into her pocket. “Thank you, Faith, and if you need anything, just call downstairs and ask for Sue. Enjoy your breakfast.”

She sees herself out, leaving me alone with the most delicious smell wafting from the room service cart.

Oh…this is going to be delicious.

And it was.

I devoured it like I hadn’t eaten in days, but that’s me. I’m a nervous eater.

And that’s what I am...I am a nervous wreck. I didn’t think I would be, but when the time came to finally get ready to leave, everything kicked into overdrive.

I ran through the motions, like getting ready for a date, utilizing every moment, leading me to right now.

I slip on my black Converse, my favorite pair, then take a good look at myself in the mirror.

I opted for a pair of distressed denim shorts and a red, tight fitted tee that sports Falcon’s official logo on the back. I’ve kept my hair down and loose, with slight beachy curls.

I went a bit heavier on the makeup than I normally would, popping on some eyeliner and a bold, red lip. I feel…hot.

And the minute I tell myself that, the doubt starts creeping in like hot barbwire wrapping itself around me.

Is this something I should even be wearing to this? What the fuck do you wear to a WFC fight? Especially as a guest of the main event? Am I trying too hard? Is this even right? Should I dress up more? Dress down? Take off the makeup? It would draw less attention to me and I wouldn’t have to be nervous.

“No!” I say the word out loud, staring into my own eyes in the mirror. “Enjoy yourself, Faith. Let it all go. You’re fine. It’s time to live.”

My cell begins violently vibrating on the nightstand, and I rush over to grab it, swiping my thumb over the screen and pressing speakerphone.

“Hello?”

“Miss me?”

Marco’s rich, buttery voice seeps through the phone and over my skin.

“Who’s this?” I tease.

“Ouch. I’m wounded.” He laughs, and so do I. “Are you excited about tonight?”

“Well, if we are being honest here, I’m terrified.” I sit on the edge of the bed and brush nonexistent fuzz from my legs.

“What are you terrified of?”

“Crowds. Living up to expectation. Others and their opinions because I’m there with you.”

“Is this about what Jennifer said last night? Christ, Faith, she’s a belt rider and that’s all she’ll ever be. Keep doing what you did during your first interaction. Stand up to her. Let her know she can’t push you around. I’ll always have your back when you do. Eventually, she’ll realize she can’t win here.”

“I know, I know. It’s just my nerves getting the better of me. I’ll be fine.”

“I know.” I hear him say something to someone away from the phone before his voice resumes with me. “Your car is downstairs. Vincent is waiting in the lobby. You won’t be able to miss him. He’ll bring you here and give you your pass. Frank, at the door, will escort you down to your seat.”

“I won’t see you before you fight?”

“No, unfortunately, but afterward…you’re mine.”

I exhale a deep breath, squirming at the simple thought.

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