She shook her head and remembered she was here to do one thing and one thing only. Get him to agree to the rematch.

But knowing that and doing it were two very different things. The more she became acquainted with Van, the more she felt for him. And the more she liked him.

She hadn’t counted on that at all.

Being in such close proximity didn’t help either. She’d always had her reasons for avoiding the fighters, but being around Van was knocking those reasons down. He wasn’t remotely like what she’d thought he’d be. Sure, he was gruff and sort of cranky, but the man was in a lot of pain. And he was dealing with the loss of his career.

You couldn’t expect someone in that situation to be the picture of cheerfulness. If anyone understood that, it was her. She knew better than most how hard breaks could crush your spirit. Not that she considered herself crushed, but it was difficult some days to find the energy to keep fighting for what she wanted. Giving up and giving in were easy. Maintaining the courage to face down your fears, that took some doing.

And maybe that understanding of what Van was going through was part of why she was starting to feel something for him. It wasn’t necessarily that she was attracted to him, although he was attractive in his own way. If you liked big, fit guys who loved animals and books and felt their purpose in life was to protect those they loved. It was just that he was so much more than what she’d thought a fighter would be.

He was smart. Funny. And had a smile that could light up a room—as cliché as that sounded. She had to wonder too, if being kept away from the world for so long by her father had resulted in a heightened curiosity about the opposite sex.

After all, Van was the first man she’d spent time with who wasn’t her father or one of his underlings. And more than that, he was the first man she’d ever been alone with. Could that be making her feel something? She certainly hadn’t expected to like the guy. Especially when he represented something she didn’t really understand. Fighting.

Van had already told her that fighting was so much a part of him that it was like breathing. Was that really so much different than who she was? After all, she’d been fighting for her independence since she turned eighteen. She thought about it for a long moment.

Yes, they were very different. Van wasn’t just a fighter, he was a protector. And she? She was a destroyer. Her gifts gave her the ability to do one thing with great power. To persuade, with the end result being complete ruination. Her kind had been the destroyers of men since there had been light and darkness in the world. And it was something her father loved to exploit.

If only she’d been born powerless, her life would be a very different one.

Monalisa dropped her head and stared at her feet. What was she doing here, besides the obvious? Yes, she was here to get Van to do her father’s will. And beyond that, she was here to get the coin that would give her freedom. But this mission, this job her father had given her, it was one more chip out of the crumbling wall of her life. One more small effort on her father’s part to tear her down and keep her for himself.

She couldn’t run. She couldn’t hide. She had no real means of escape. Once again, she was faced with the truth that she had no options. She either did what her father wanted, or she suffered the consequences. She glanced toward the first floor. Maybe she should just go downstairs and tell Van the truth. She’d thought about it once before. Maybe if she explained everything, really explained, he would give in and agree to the rematch. She’d promise him anything to help her.

Well, not anything. Or…maybe she would. But Van didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d demand such a high price from a desperate woman.

But then again, maybe he would send her home to her father to deliver the message that Padraig’s precious rematch was never going to happen.

She sighed. This was her life. A series of difficult decisions capped off with this, the granddaddy of them all. She thought some more about going downstairs and talking to Van. Who knew? Maybe he’d come up with a solution. That thought gave her a small glimmer of hope, even though she knew there was no real solution outside of the obvious one.

Her feet started moving before she could rethink it. She went downstairs slowly but deliberately. She thought she’d heard Van’s office door close earlier, so she went in that direction. It was shut, but she could hear him talking to someone. Was he on the phone?

She went a little closer and listened. She heard a woman’s voice, then him. He seemed to be repeating the woman over and over. What was he doing? The sentences didn’t make a lot of sense. Then she realized that with each word he spoke, his accent diminished. Like he was deliberately trying to sound more American. How odd. She didn’t think he was difficult to understand. In fact, his Russian accent was sort of charming.

Maybe even a little bit sexy.

Van was such an interesting person. And she realized that despite what she’d learned about him so far, he was still an onion with many layers to be peeled. It intrigued her that someone with his level of success, fame, and fortune would continue striving to better himself. It made her like him even more. And although she didn’t think he needed to do anything about his cute accent, he clearly thought he did.

She smiled and shook her head. A guy like that had to be willing to help her, right? She reached out to knock on the door, but her cell phone vibrated in her back pocket.

She pulled it out and checked the screen. Her father was calling. She was supposed to have called him when she got in last night but, like always, he was the last person she wanted to talk too.