Emma
Mike picked me up in the evening for Dawood's boxing match. Dawood left a long list of instructions for me before he left. At the top of the list, if it got too much for me to stomach the fight, I should not hesitate to tell Mike I wanted to leave. The second one was to stay away from all the men wearing suits. He didn't need to give me that warning because I would never go within a ten-meter radius of those mobsters.
I felt giddy as Mike drove us to the arena where the fight would take place. If Abi or any of my brothers found out I was going to such a place, they would not hesitate to skin alive Dawood. I was unsure how they would react if they knew Dawood's ties with the mob. Abi hated them to the core, and I had no doubt it won't go down well if he ever found this out.
"Since when has Dawood been boxing here?" I asked Mike when we reached an old building on the city's outskirts.
It looked like the building had not been used in years, but the cars parked around it told a different story.
"Since our college days," Mike replied.
"Didn't you guys try to talk him out of this madness?"
"Do you think Dawood listens to anyone if he sets any goal for himself?" Mike arched his brow at me.
I sighed because I knew he was right. Dawood Ordimez was not the kind of man who would let anyone else influence his decision.
"I guess you can talk him out of this," Mike said as we neared the entrance of the building.
"Dawood would never listen to me," I corrected him.
"You don't realize the power you hold over him. I have not seen Dawood care about a girl in years," Mike said and then pulled out a card from his pocket and showed it to the guard standing at the entrance.
"You mean he cared for someone before?"
The guard turned the handle of the heavy metal door as we both waited to get inside.
"It's not in my place to tell you anything about this. It would be best if you asked Dawood," he replied.
"He doesn't talk about it," I gave Mike an indignant look hoping he would spill the beans about my husband's mysterious past.
"I am sorry, Emma, but I don't think Dawood would like it if I told you anything. Give him time. I am sure he will come forth with it. From how he acts around you and cares about you, I think he is falling for you," Mike said as we stepped inside a corridor in the building.
I gave Mike a startled look. What did he mean by Dawood was falling for me? Mike ignored my look and took a step forward into the corridor. The corridor was dimly lit and carpeted. It led to a massive wooden door at the end, where two more guards were stationed.
"I have known Dawood since we were kids. We lived on the same street. I have never seen him so protective and possessive about any girl. Maybe I am wrong, but I do feel that you have succeeded in melting the ice around his heart," Mike stated, staring into my eyes.
"Dawood doesn't love me. We are just trying to make this marriage work because of our families," I took a deep breath.
I was feeling short of oxygen suddenly. Mike was Dawood's best friend since childhood. He was aware of his past, and he indeed knew Dawood better than anyone else. If Mike felt Dawood had feelings for me, could it be true? Was Dawood falling for me? I couldn't wrap my mind around it. Dawood Ordimez loving me, out of all people, was something I could never imagine in ten lifetimes.
"Good luck convincing yourself," Mike said as the guards opened the wooden doors, and we stepped into a vast square room.
There were stands on all four sides of a boxing ring in the middle. Men of different strata of society occupied those seats. Most of them were men from all strata of society. We walked towards the ring, and Mike halted when we reached the first row. The first and second rows consisted primarily of empty couches. Mike led me toward the middle of the row where Robert and Joshua, one of Dawood's friends, were already waiting.
"Good, you reached on time. The match will start in a few minutes," Robert said after the initial greetings.
A man sat on a seat in the bottom row of the stands holding an iPad and typing on it while surrounded by a crowd of men placing their bets. I felt my insides coil at the sight. It was not something that I could ever come to terms with. Dawood didn't realize what he had gotten himself into. It was the mob we were talking about, and if word got out, his political career would end before it even began.
"Why don't Dawood's father talk to him? This is madness. His whole career would be ruined if the word goes out," I told Mike, seated beside me.
"He had countless times, but as I said earlier, Dee won't listen to anyone on this topic," Mike sighed and leaned against the back of the couch.
The hall filled with a buzz as men wearing black suits entered the arena and filled onto the couches in the first row. They screamed raw power and were all tall and heavily built. The aura around them was lethal, and one look at them was enough to intimidate the strongest men. I cowered into myself as they all scanned the room. One man, in particular, had a predatory air around him. His cold grey eyes scanned every person in the room, assessing and analyzing until his gaze stopped on me.
I felt my palm sweating as his eyes traveled from my head to toe and back to my face again. His eyes stayed fixed on me, and I tried hard not to tremble under the weight of his stare. One of his companions approached and whispered into his ear. The man with cold grey eyes listened intently and scowled. Then he disappeared behind a curtain on the opposite end of the entrance with the man who whispered to him.
"Who is he?" I asked Mike, who was looking in the direction where the two men had disappeared.
"Cian Byrne, the Boss of the Irish Mafia," Mike replied.
A shiver ran down my spine, remembering his cold, assessing eyes, "He looks dangerous," I whispered to Mike.
"He is the deadliest man in Boston. You don't want to mess with him," he patted my shoulder.
The two men returned after a few minutes and got seated on one of the couches on the other side of the ring, and I gave out the breath I was holding. Relief washed over me, realizing I was no longer in his line of vision. I didn't ever want to come across that man in my life. The referee announced the name of Dawood and his opponent, and the crowd erupted into a roar. Most of the stands had gotten occupied, and everyone was busy chatting.
A man built like a bull and must be taller than Dawood, if that was even possible, entered the arena through the curtains, and the crows gave him loud applause. I felt my breathing stop just looking at the size of the man. Was Dawood going to fight that hulk of a man? It was insanity. It was like signing his death warrant. I had never seen Dawood fight, but looking at the man climbing into the ring and how the crowd was going crazy, I was sure he was an excellent boxer.
"Is Dawood going to fight that?" I turned and looked at Mike, bewildered.
"Dawood is going to beat that," Mike appeared unfazed about the size man's size.
Mike was accustomed to Dawood fighting such men, but for me, it was nothing other than madness. Why would Dawood indulge in such insanity? What if something happened to him during any of those fights?
The referee announced Dawood's name as he entered, and the crowd's applause was louder than at the time of his opponent. They were chanting his name like a mantra and looked utterly enchanted. Dawood was wearing a black robe and black boxing gloves, unlike his opponent, whose gear was red along with his robe.
I watched, mesmerized, as he walked down to the ring and entered it gracefully like he was born to do just that. He walked to the opposite end of the ring from where his opponent was standing and then shredded his robe. Dawood was only wearing black boxer shorts beneath the robe. Butterflies swarmed my belly at the sight of half-naked Dawood despite the thick tension in the air.
Dawood's shoulders and back muscles flexed as he took a deep breath and turned. Our eyes met, and my heart hammered against my ribcage from the intensity of his gaze. The man before me wasn't the caring husband I came to know in the past weeks. It was someone else, and that scared me shitless. My stomach roiled and twisted like a snake. Dawood's face was emotionless, and his golden eyes looked blank. Warmth flashed in his eyes for a fraction of a second when they settled on me and disappeared in the next.
"I feel scared," I whispered to Mike.
"Relax, Dawood has it under control," Mike assured.
I wanted to tell Mike it was Dawood's expression that scared me. I never saw him such unhinged before, and to be honest, I never wanted to witness that side of Dawood ever again.
The fight started, and I watched my husband fight with such focus, like it was the last fight of his life. Every punch from Dawood was precision. Although his opponent was strong and had terrified me to the core, it didn't look like it bothered Dawood. He was fighting like a machine. Even if his opponent managed to land a punch, Dawood didn't even flinch. The first round ended with Dawood winning and me giving out the breath I had been holding.
Byrne walked to Dawood, who waited for the second round to begin, and whispered to him. Dawood gave Byrne a curt nod and then flexed his neck and arms. I asked Mike if he had any idea what Byrne could have said to Dawood, but he shrugged his shoulders in response. The second round started, and I noticed Dawood was not as focused as before. His opponent looked aggressive and succeeded in landing punches on Dawood.
The second round ended, and the referee asked the judges for the winner because this round was much closer. The judges discussed amongst themselves and announced Dawood's opponent as the winner of the second round. That meant there would be a third and final round, and whoever won it would be the winner tonight.
The man wiping the blood off Dawood's opponent's face pointed at me, and his opponent looked in my direction. I gulped down the lump in my throat and regretted coming here because the man was eyeing me like a piece of meat. I felt insects crawling on my skin as his eyes traveled down my frame. Nausea took over me, and I started taking deep breaths to calm myself.
Dawood hadn't looked in my direction after the first time, and the thought was unsettling me. I couldn't understand the reason why he avoided looking at me. Was he regretting me coming here to watch him fight?
The third round started, and both boxers looked out for blood. They both tried to hurt each other as much as possible and successfully landed punches on each other. Dawood's opponent said something to him that was inaudible because of the crowd's loud cheers, and I saw Dawood's expression changing from blank to enraged.
Everything after that was a blur as I watched Dawood beating his opponent into a pulp, horrified. He looked like a man possessed, and the expressions on his face shook me to the core. I hadn't felt this way when Byrne looked at me nor when Dawood's opponent was leering at me. My stomach churned as he landed one after another punch on his opponent's face which got covered in blood.
The crowd went silent, and everyone stood up from their seats. My legs shook, and I was not sure how long I would be able to stand on my feet. Dawood's expressions scared me to the extent I started hyperventilating. Mike noticed my discomfort and held my arm, I looked at him, but all I could see was blood. He was saying something, but I was unable to hear it. Dawood's face floated in my vision, along with the bloody face of his opponent, until everything started darkening around me. I tried to speak, but no voice came out of my mouth. My vision blackened as I swayed, and then darkness engulfed me.
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Loud voices woke me up, but my body was still not in my control. I tried to push my eyelids open but failed. I felt like a boulder was placed on my chest, and I was crushing under its weight. I gave up my attempt to open my eyes and instead focused my mind on the voices around me.
One voice unmistakably belonged to Dawood. I could recognize it even in a million voices, I could not differentiate what they were saying at first, but their words became more apparent as the seconds passed.
"Were you out of your mind? It was not a death match," the first voice said, and after forcing my mind a little, I realized it belonged to Mike.
"He called my wife a whore," Dawood hissed.
"It was not the first time your opponent provoked you, Dawood. It is mostly part of every match. You can't lose your shit like this. If something happens to that man, you will get into a lot of trouble," Mike sounded pissed.
My mind was stuck on Dawood's words, 'he called my wife a whore'. Was that why he lost control and acted like a man possessed? The reason behind his anger was that his opponent insulted me. What shocked me was that Dawood had almost killed that man because of it. I couldn't control myself anymore and tried opening my eyes again while trying to sit up.
"I think she is awake," another male voice sounded along with hurried footsteps in my direction.
When I finally pushed my eyelids open, four faces peered down at me. The most concern was Dawood's expression, "Hey, are you okay?" He knelt beside me and asked, cupping my face.
I tried getting up, but Dawood held my shoulders and gestured for me to keep lying. He was still wearing his boxers, and blood stains covered his face and torso. Dawood was an anomaly with his golden brown hair plastered to his forehead, his golden eyes warm and concerned for me and the shattered blood.
"Is he alive?" I asked.
"Yes, for now," Mike replied with a scowl.
"You don't need to worry about him," Dawood leaned over me and brushed aside stray strands of hair that had fallen on my face.
"I want to go home," I said, tracing my tongue over my dry lips.
"Give me a few minutes to shower and change, then we will leave," He replied.
I sat up on what I noticed was a bench that was inside the changing room. My head spun for a second as I pushed myself up. I was still in a haze and swayed a little. Dawood moved forward and held me by my shoulders, "Careful. You might fall," he whispered gently.
"I am okay," I assured him when I was sure I could manage sitting without his support.
"Drink this. You must be thirsty," he handed me a bottle of an energy drink, and I gulped it down in a single breath.
Dawood pulled from me, and my body protested the loss of his touch and the heat from his muscular body that engulfed me. He went into the shower asking his friends to stay and watch me while he showered. His friends stayed silent, especially Mike, watching me with his scrutinizing gaze.
"Do you think that man will live?" I asked Mike.
He didn't answer me, just kept staring at me, which was puzzling me, "You will need to watch him tonight. He always has a rough night after a match," Mike said, ignoring my question.
I looked at him, startled. What did he mean by a rough night? Did he know about Dawood's nightmares? Of course, he did. He was his closest friend and confidante.
"I will if you tell me, what is the reason behind his nightmares?" I looked at Mike in resentment.
"I can't. You will need to ask Dawood," his tone was firm.
I didn't force him after that, and we waited silently until Dawood walked out of the shower in a fresh pair of clothes. We came home, and my mind was nudging me to stay in Dawood's bedroom tonight, but I couldn't bring myself to say it to him. I was hoping he might ask me to stay with him, but he didn't and headed to his room.
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