Page 9 of The Cinderella Secret
“I’ll add her to the Christmas list,” said Aiden with a laugh.
He was barely back at his desk when his cell beeped up a text.
Last minute cancellation on tonight’s fight. Torres broke his hand. You want in?
Aiden looked at the sugar skull with the painted lines and flowers that always reminded him of Cinderella’s mask. Did he want in? Yes. But fighting this close to home was definitely against the rules. But on the other hand… He was fucking bored off his ass. But she hadn’t been at any of his fights for the last six years and he was out of clues. She was probably happily living in Europe somewhere and never even thought of him.
Aiden hesitated, then typed in his response.
No. Better not.
He knew way too many people in New York to risk it and Cinderella wasn’t going to be there.
5
Ella – New York Fight
Twenty-three-year-old Ella Zhao hurried through the parking garage. It had taken her too long to slip free of her uncle’s security. If she missed this moment, she was going to have to wait, possibly months, for another opportunity.
An entire section of the parking garage was blocked off with plastic sheets, and two large trucks were parked in front. Three hulking men loitered by the trucks in yellow reflective gear. Ella fished in her bag for her invite. She held out the card with green devil face and the barcode on its tongue. The man in front pulled out a scanner and scanned the card. He gave a nod to the second man, who held open the divide in the plastic sheeting.
“Have fun,” he said, and Ella smiled perfunctorily.
Fights in the U.S. generally weren’t as good as the South American fights. The rise of legal MMA fights pulled the talent away. In other parts of the globe, where leagues and rules were rare and fighters had fewer opportunities, the fights were better quality. Ella didn’t specifically want to attend illegal fights. She enjoyed MMA, she enjoyed her own training, and she liked people with skills. But what she wanted, even six years later, was to find Number Nine.
Her uncle disliked illegal fights, disapproved of her attendance, and had instructed his security not to let her go to them. Hence her quick exit through the back entrance of the penthouse apartment her uncle had rented. She had never dared to tell him about Number Nine. She suspected that if she involved Bai and his security, Bai would certainly find Number Nine, but he would also go out of his way to make sure that Ella never did. So she was left with chasing slender clues and rumors and sneaking out to the occasional fight.
Number Nine rarely fought in the U.S. She was aware of only three fights in the States in the last six years, one of which was last year in Mississippi. She’d been three minutes too slow there. By the time she’d managed to get through the crowd, she’d only caught a glimpse of him and his car pulling away. But she’d gotten a better look at his trainer—an ex-fighter with a build like a bull and a rough thatch of hair like a dandelion. It had taken her a few months to track the trainer down to New York. He trained a few other fighters, legal and illegal. His roster was skilled, and Ella was certain that he would lead her to Number Nine.
The intervening years had not been exclusively dedicated to hunting for her luchador. Mostly they had been dedicated to law school, and now working as a lawyer for her uncle’s company. She knew the other lawyers at Bai’s firm were annoyed, as her uncle insisted that she take lead on certain cases, but it wasn’t her fault that she was better than they were.
She’d been excited when Bai had announced that they were moving to New York for the year, and even more excited when he’d presented her with the DevEntier problem. She’d known the moment he gave her the file that it was what he’d been grooming her for. Her father had worked for DevEntier and Randall Deveraux. They owed the Zhao stock shares and a seat on the board for the work he had done. Ella’s one job was to go and take those things away from the Deveraux.
She smiled just thinking about it. It was going to be a cake walk.
The air grew warmer as she went further down into the garage. Music played at deafening levels, but she could hear the crowd cheering. The host for this evening was an ex-Golden Gloves boxer who knew how to put on a good show. He’d brought in out-of-country talent and a few up-and-comers for the fights. Then he’d completed the set-up with a complete bar, and the local gang as the designated drug vendor. It was everything rich people could want when betting on the physical devastation of another human being.
Number Nine’s trainer’s name was Josh, but went by the fight name Bull and she had it on good authority that Bull had a fighter on one of the undercards tonight. Ella got as close as she could to the fighter’s area. It was literally just an area blocked off with pipe and drape. Security guards stood like statues at the entrance. She saw one of them notice her and she moved to a less conspicuous spot along the wall. The best part of pipe and drape was that even though people acted like they were real walls, it was literally just curtains. Ella waited until the fight pulled everyone’s attention and then she slipped through the fabric. She came through into a prep area, and face-to-face with a startled Latino looking fighter.
“I’m looking for Bull,” she said.
He shrugged and then pointed further back. Ella followed his finger.
“Hey,” said a grumpy looking older man with cauliflower ear and a crooked nose. “You’re not supposed to be back here.”
“I’ve got a message for Bull,” said Ella.
The man scrutinized her. Her sneakers, jeans, and baseball cap didn’t look like she was attending the fight as a guest.
“He’s prepping his fighter,” he said.
“Yeah, Torres,” said Ella knowledgably. “I know. I just have to give the message and then I’m out.” That was actually the truth. She had to meet her uncle’s family for dinner in forty-five minutes. The move to New York had been fortuitous and had saved her months of scheming to figure out how to coincide a visit with a fight, but it came with its own set of time constrictions.
“Yeah, all right. Third room back on the left.”
“Thanks,” said Ella.
She went back toward the third doorway, a loose term since there was only a different color curtain in front of the area. At the back, she glimpsed an open area with a line of water coolers and a table of snack food. Ella was preparing her opening statement when she saw Josh come out carrying a water bottle. He turned away from her and went back toward the snack table and Ella hurried after him.
