Blush: A Strangers-to-Lovers Romance Read online

  Blush

  Rachel De Lune

  Contents

  Untitled

  1. Leo

  2. Leo

  3. Leo

  4. Astrid

  5. Astrid

  6. Leo

  7. Leo

  8. Astrid

  9. Leo

  10. Astrid

  11. Leo

  12. Leo

  13. Leo

  14. Astrid

  15. Leo

  16. Leo

  17. Leo

  18. Astrid

  19. Astrid

  20. Leo

  21. Astrid

  22. Leo

  23. Astrid

  24. Leo

  25. Leo

  26. Astrid

  27. Leo

  28. Astrid

  29. Astrid

  Leo

  Untitled

  Also By Rachel De Lune

  About Rachel De Lune

  For every woman who's ever desired more

  © All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written consent from the author, except that of small quotations used in critical reviews and promotions via blogs.

  Blush is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Blush © 2020 Rachel De Lune

  Cover design by LJDesigns

  Editing by BNW Editing

  Proofing by Roxane LeBlanc

  Rachel De Lune on Social Media

  Facebook

  Instagram

  www.racheldelune.com

  Created with Vellum

  For my beautiful friend, Lou.

  You are such a huge part of my author life, and one of the most gracious and generous people I know. And right now you need all of the support in the world.

  While Leo and Astrid aren’t superheroes who can fly in and rescue you, they do have a happy ending and that’s what I’m wishing for you. A speedy recovery, and a happy ending from this ordeal.

  In support of Lou, Blush hasn’t been formatted in her usual amazing style. I’ll leave that to her when she’s back fit and healthy.

  A huge thank you to Kris who stepped in and got Blush ready for publication.

  1

  Leo

  The funeral gutted me.

  I chose to stand at the back of the crowd, hidden by umbrellas and wall-to-wall black. Oliver wouldn’t notice me here. Why would he? He was burying his brother today—my best friend. But I couldn’t take the risk of making his day harder than it already had to be. Just looking at Grace made me want to turn around and walk away. But I owed it to Maddison to be here.

  I hadn’t spoken to Grace since the fight. The guilt slayed me every time I thought of what we’d done. Or rather, what I didn’t do.

  Her face was ashen. She sobbed for the entire service, and each time I chanced a glance at her, guilt kicked me in the guts again. I was the friend who didn’t stand up to him, didn’t force him to think about his actions. I didn’t stop him from going through with his plan. And now Maddison Ray was dead.

  News of the fight and the infamous Mikey Kenner’s arrest spread through the ranks of everyone who was anyone in the underground fight scene. His network and club were shut down, and although he didn’t throw the punch, Mikey was on the hook for a hell of a lot of charges including gang-related crimes. I wasn’t sorry. Whatever deal he and Maddison had, nobody deserved to die in that ring.

  Grace was left heartbroken, but at least she had Oliver to pull her through. I knew I had to find the right time to fill him in on what really happened, despite my own guilt. That was something I could salvage from this disaster.

  Why couldn’t he just be happy with what he had? Maddison never could take a minute to appreciate what was right in front of him. And now, he’d paid the ultimate price.

  Zuri, our coach-come-manager, was itching to fill the void in the market for big fights, now the biggest ring in London had gone to ground. The Club—the crappy named venue that Maddison and I had been fighting at—was back to normal by the time Maddison’s funeral was over. The next bout lined up, and the crowds ready to pay.

  If anything, the home club of the fighter who was killed in the ring pulled in more punters. Seeing us bloodied and beaten on the floor wasn’t enough, now people knew it could get deadly. And they wanted a piece of the action.

  “Leo. I need you to fight, boy. I have big match up. Perfect for you.”

  “I’m not sure, Zuri. Since Mads, it doesn’t feel right.”

  “Maddison wanted this. He gave everything for it. Don’t quit because you’re scared.” Zuri had been working this line for the last couple of weeks, pushing me to agree. Maybe he was right? Maybe I needed to get out of my head and back to normal.

  “Next week. I promise big money. You were his friend. He would want this.”

  But I wasn’t sure Mads would want it all now, not knowing what it had cost: the girl he loved, his family, and lastly, his life. Luckily, I wasn’t going to make some dumb-ass deal with a London mobster before my fight.

  “I want an extra five percent, and don’t fucking screw me, Zuri. I’ve seen the fights here. You need something big right now, and with Mads gone, you’ve got jack shit, except me. The little twerps you have aren’t going to do it, not yet, at least.” I knew because I was one of those twerps a few years back.

  “Three percent.”

  “Seven. Don’t screw me, Zuri.” I shook my head at him and levelled a stare. He needed me more than I needed him, and I’d use that to my advantage all night long.

  “Fine. Five.”

  “I’ll see you Saturday night.”

  According to Mads, I never took fighting seriously or had the same drive as he did. He wasn’t wrong. I liked that I could fight hard and win. The money was good and afforded me my own kind of luxury: a nice apartment and the comfort of not having to work a dead-end job. Plus a bunch of tailored suits and shirts, even though there was nowhere to wear them. That was enough for me. If I didn’t fight, big deal, I’d find something else. It wasn’t something I had to be “king of” to find my happiness.

  Fuck knows what I’d do after this, but that was for another day.

  I’d always worked out hard in the gym. I needed to if I wanted to keep my winning streak in the ring. But since Maddison’s death, it was like I was training against a ghost. When I pushed that second round of reps, I felt like he was there with me, spurring me on, encouraging me, being that voice inside my head that planted the seed of doubt to make me want to pick up the weight bar again.

  So, I did. But it didn’t dull the ache that had taken up home in my chest—the feeling of loss that I couldn’t quite shake.

  I’d never been in better shape. I wasn’t the tallest. At just six feet dead, I had more of a swimmer’s build. And the ridiculous amount of freckles covering my body didn’t do much for intimidation. But I worked with what God gave me. And the ladies, sure as shit, never complained.

  For the rest of the week, I ate right, trained right, and slept. Some.

  Nightmares weren’t ever something I’d worried about in the past, but watching your best friend die in front of you changed that. The dream was always the same: dark room, spotlight, and Mads’ body on the floor. Blood seeping through the sheet I’d covered him in. But as I went to move the material off his face, I woke up, drenched in sweat, and my heart stampeding in my chest.

  Four in the morning wasn’t my usual alarm call, but the nightmare wouldn’t let me rest. I felt like crap, a
nd that wasn’t what you wanted the morning of a big fight. I dragged my ass out of bed and hit the shower. When I came back, I made the bed, pulling the covers taut over the super king mattress. With everything in its place, I headed into the gloom of the kitchen and made the caffeine drink that would hopefully, wake my ass up.

  I never understood the appeal of coffee. The fancy-ass machine on the counter was just that—fancy. Girls liked coffee, though. Tea was my choice. Couldn’t beat a good English breakfast brew, preferably with the full-on fry up to go with it. Not today.

  I text my little sister, sure she’d be cursing the early hour, and asked if she wanted to hang out later. To my mother’s horror, she was a sports fan—didn’t matter what it was, she watched it and avidly rejected anything remotely girl stereotyped. She came to the other fights with me and liked The Club, but I wouldn’t let her watch me.

  The apartment was too quiet this early, so I shoved my feet into my running trainers and went for a jog, just to pass the time. The city was just waking up, and still quiet, given it was a Saturday, which made my path easy to navigate. I headed to the large park about twenty minutes from the flat and ran through grassy areas and tree-lined paths.

  After an hour, I got bored with killing time and headed home. With the restless night, and my constantly agitated state waiting for tonight, I was piss-poor company. The day dragged, and Gwen had plans, which meant I couldn’t use her to eat up the time.

  It felt like something was looming, and I couldn’t settle. This wasn’t my usual pre-fight routine, but then, nothing was quite the same since Maddison.

  I got sick of killing time at home and thought I might chill the fuck out at The Club instead of on my own. Zuri was waiting for me around the back when I arrived, looking at me as if I was running late instead of being two hours early.

  “Hey, what’s up?” I asked as I chucked my bag on one of the benches and headed out to the bar to grab a bottle of water.

  He followed, looking as if I’d already lost the fight.

  “A lot rides on this, Leo. Don’t fuck up.”

  “Zuri, I’m good. I promise.” I was. Despite the nightmares, I did feel good.

  “Here.” He slammed a wad of cash in front of me. “Part of the bonus. Now don’t fucking let me down.”

  I gave him a stare, already fucked-off that he was interrogating me like this.

  “Who’s with you tonight?”

  I was dreading that question. Mads had always been in my corner, just like I was for him. That kick to the gut caught my breath as the falsity of the statement rang in my head. I didn’t have him. Not when it mattered.

  “I’ve got this.”

  “Don’t get cocky, Leo. You don’t got shit until you win.”

  I’d had enough of Zuri and his little pep talk. Grabbing a water from the fridge behind the bar, I headed back down to the fighters’ locker area.

  My feet paced the floor, and after a while, the feeling of being caged crept over me. Stewing in all of the history and memories was the perfect way to get me fired up. I needed to be mad. Mad for Maddison, for his family, and most of all, mad at myself for being a pussy. I might not have known that the fight had been rigged, but I knew enough to make Mads listen to reason. I put it all on Grace to appeal to his better side and stop him. I went to her because I knew what he was planning was a mistake. I should have done better. I should have stopped him.

  I would never do that again.

  Danny, one of the little twerps hoping for his next big fight, came in to help with the warm-up. He wrapped my hands and set the bindings in place, secure, tight and with just the right amount of give as I clenched my fists. Prepare to win. That’s what went through my head with every meticulous thread and loop of the material.

  Some people didn’t like this process or ritual. However, it was what ruled my life. Order and routine had been constant cornerstones in my life, and they applied ten-fold in a fight.

  As the noise began to grow, Zuri came to check on me. He gave me a nod, and left, letting me get on with my own schedule now he could see I was in the right headspace.

  Just another fight. Another chunk of change. Rinse repeat. Until it got old, or I found something new.

  The ghost I’d been fighting with in the gym made an appearance, pushing me forward as I bounced on my feet. Danny padded up, and I ran over a few drills, pounding my fists, kicking out, grappling. It wasn’t right. He wasn’t Mads. And that set a fire within my chest of hurt and pain that was far more effective than any pump of adrenaline. I stripped my shirt, grabbed my gum shield and went out to face the music.

  Roars echoed around me in greeting. I tipped my head and made my way straight to the cage. I had a job to do, and I never got dragged into the show with the low lives who bet on me to take a pounding. Taking their money was enough for me.

  That all-too-familiar kick in my stomach returned as I stepped on the matting, and for a moment, I saw the dark, shadowy ring from my nightmare—or it might have been my memory. The vision passed as I shook my head, focussing my eyes, and my mind. I blocked out the hollers and cheers, closing my eyes, and visualised what I was going to do to the guy in front of me. Attack Attack Attack.

  The vibrations of the music and the thudding of people buzzed through the floor and tickled the soles of my feet. It told me when the other guy came into my space.

  Taking a calming breath, I repeated my mantra before opening my eyes.

  A weedy-looking beanpole stood across from me, his arms pumping up the crowd. He looked like I could snap him in two. I pumped my shoulders up and down, loosening all my joints, ready to get this started.

  We met in the middle, tapping fists before standing back. It was on.

  But that fucking ghost was back. A vision of Maddison taking that final hit, his body going limp and dropping to the mat played in front of me, turning me to stone. And as the memory absorbed me, a shock of pain exploded across my jaw, and I stumbled back.

  The punch didn’t shake my vision, though. It was like I was living through Maddison’s fight. I was re-watching it, blow for blow as I felt it, too.

  My feet tripped and stumbled, and I was on the mat before I could right my balance. So was Mads. He was lying where he’d fallen, his body crumpled and bloodied. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to push it to the side. Push it away and bury it. But I couldn’t.

  Another volley of blows knocked me about, first my head, then my stomach and back, but I couldn’t fight it. I couldn’t see anything except Maddison’s body in front of me.

  Copper swirled around in my mouth, and I leaned over to spit it out, but he attacked again, the kick to my stomach flipping me onto my back. I hit the mat hard as I was dumped back down. I looked up and saw nothing but the spotlight from my nightmare, showing me, and all my weakness.

  I reached out my arm, wanting to hold on to Maddison, but my hand grasped nothing but air.

  “What the fuck, dude?” The muffled voice of the guy who’d had an easy ticket against me finally cut through my episode.

  He stood over me—concern plastered on his face. It was unusual for anyone to show mercy in this game. And I was sure my body wouldn’t see it as mercy when the bruises blushed my face and body, but right then, I was thankful.

  “Can’t, do this,” I choked out. The taste of blood was still leaking down my throat, and as any remnants of energy vanished from my muscles, I pushed to sit up. Slowly, the noise and atmosphere swarmed back to my senses, the boos and jeers now ringing in my mind.

  “Some fucking fight,” the guy complained and turned away. I let out a breath, just a fraction too soon. He swung back around and clocked me full on the cheek, sending me back down to the mat.

  This time I stayed down. I was done.

  The cacophony of rowdy spectators erupted all around, but I stayed where I was, happy to let things fizzle out before facing the consequences—although, I already knew them.

  I was done.

  Didn’t matter what Zuri
said—I wasn’t coming back. I couldn’t face the ghost of Maddison each time I set foot in here. It was too painful, and it wasn’t the hits to my body causing that pain. I was worse than a newbie first-timer if I couldn’t focus.

  The 5K in my bag would be all I saw tonight. Not the best severance package, but hey, I’d known this wouldn’t last. My head lolled to the side, and I saw Zuri huffing and puffing through the mesh of the ring. He clocked me, and his face turned a putrid shade of purple. Shit. I suddenly would have given anything to be anywhere else but in his ring.

  My body protested loudly at my attempt to right myself—my back and chest screaming at me to stay down. But, when I wasn’t seeing the dead body of my best friend, I was a stubborn bastard.

  My jaw felt a little off, numbness blocked the feeling from one side of my face, and my balance was shot, but I staggered to the door. It took all my strength to keep myself walking to the relative safety of the locker area where I collapsed onto a bench.

  “What the fuck did you do?” Zuri’s voice followed me through, and I groaned inwardly.

  I ignored him. Nobody needed to know how I’d choked.

  “Answer me, you shit. You know how much I lost?”

  “Keep my fucking money, Zuri. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I am. You don’t mess up like that.”

  “I know. I quit. You can find someone else to fight.”