Full Contact (Worth the Fight #2) - Sidney Halston Page 0,38
go here. Merda, Slade, I’m sorry. You’re right. This isn’t your department.”
Francesca normally had a big stick up her ass and never seemed frazzled. Hearing her apologize was disconcerting; he figured she must be really concerned about her dad’s illness.
The door abruptly opened and Travis strolled in, eating an apple, a huge man right behind him.
“Hey, boss. Hey, beautiful boss,” Travis said to them.
“Don’t you knock?” Francesca asked.
“Nah. Not normally.” He grinned wickedly and looked back and forth between them, “Wait…should I start?” He waggled his eyebrows as he took another huge bite of the fruit.
Slade leaned forward and slapped Travis’s shoulder. Then he addressed the man behind Travis.
“Yo, Antonio. You missed training again on Monday. We on for tomorrow? I was thinking we’d start with some weights. Get you back in fighting shape. Whaddaya think?” Slade said.
“Tony. Call me Tony,” the man said by way of greeting. “You’re the new trainer who’s going to put me in my place, yet you’re asking me what to do?” Even though it was said in a playful tone, Slade noted a hint of sarcasm.
Francesca stood up. “No. I’m the one who’s going to put you in your place.” She stuck her hand out. “I’m Francesca Silva, co-owner of WtF Academy. Slade is going to train you, but I’m the one who made the deal with your agent. You mess things up, it’s my ass on the line.”
Tony’s hand gripped hers as his eyes made their way down her tall, lean body, then back up slowly to her red hair. He leaned down and kissed her hand. “Haven’t seen your ass yet, muñeca, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t want anything to happen to it.”
Francesca rolled her eyes before yanking her hand from his grip. “Slade and I have some urgent business to take care of. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Francesca—que nombre mas bello para una mujer tan bella. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
“Acho que você está cheio de merda.”
“I have no idea what you just said, but that sounded sexy as fuck,” Tony said.
“Wasn’t that Spanish?” Travis asked.
“No. Portuguese. I don’t speak Spanish,” she said to Travis, then turned back to Tony. “I said you’re full of shit. Stick to English. And don’t flirt with me.”
“Hold up—are you Frankie?”
Francesca looked taken by surprise. “Who told you that? I haven’t gone by that name in a long time.”
“My old trainer, Lucio, was a friend of your dad’s. He told me all about your dad and that I’d be working with Frankie. I pictured some old beer-bellied has-been full of tattoos. I was very wrong.” He gave her hand a final kiss before leaving the office.
When they were alone again, Slade turned to his partner. “Come on, let’s tackle all this paper. It’s still early—we can get this all cleaned up. I’ll grab one pile and you grab the other. I’ll throw away the junk mail and make a pile for the other stuff.”
An hour later, when they were finally finished, Francesca leaned back in her chair. “That was as fun as having a Pap smear.”
“Eww, Frances. That’s too much information.” He shook his head and changed the subject. “I have to get Tony’s ass in gear. Did you see him? He’s completely out of shape.”
Francesca nodded. “Cain has a fight coming up. I think Tony should sign up for a fight on the same bill. He’s arrogant, and the only way to get him to listen is to get his ego involved. If he loses a small-time fight, he’ll work hard. We need him in tip-top shape for the big fight at the end of the year.”
“Tell me about it. If he wins the big one, between the prize and the endorsements our cut would be about a quarter of a million. Not to mention the fighters who’ll contract us to train them.”
“That’s if he can get his shit together.” Francesca stood and walked around her desk. She placed a hand on Slade’s shoulder. “Listen, Tony’s not your usual fighter. He’s a huge pain in the ass.”
“We all are. I can handle him.”
“No. He’s here because it’s the last stop. Both his agent and his endorsement contracts are about ready to pull out. The guy used to be the golden boy of MMA, but he has a major chip on his shoulder. Sleeps with anything that walks, drinks like a fish, and sometimes doesn’t even make it to the ring.”
“I know he’s a prima donna—he’s already missed training. We can’t cater to