The bell rang.

Two rounds. Three rounds. On it went. Nick's face blurred into the background as Marco visualized the frat boy asshole who insisted on putting his arm around Alyssa's shoulders and grabbing her hand or arm every time she bent next to him.

Four rounds passed, then five. Nick had more strength and confidence, but Marco had speed and discipline on his side. Knowing he'd be best friends with a bottle of ibuprofen and an ice pack by night's end, Marco struck out with his left hand more than once and took one serious axe kick near his rebuilt elbow. It was worth it. The match was draining the rage out of him and clearing his head.

The bell rang.

"Marco?"

He turned and found Max standing off to the side. The older man's gaze landed on Marco's left arm and lingered for a moment. "You done for the night?" He voiced it as a question, but Marco heard the reprimand in the words. If he hadn't respected Max and counted him almost as family for the last decade, it might've been annoying. But he knew anything Max did, he did out of the true belief it was in your best interest.

Whether you wanted it or not.

Marco turned back to Nick, who was chugging a bottle of water behind him, and held out a gloved fist. "Thanks, man." They tapped fists.

"Always a pleasure, Vieri." Nick picked up his gear and made for the showers.

Max stood with his arms crossed. "You trying to hurt yourself? In my gym?"

Marco pressed his lips together and shook his head. "No, sir."

"Then what's the problem? You know that arm ain't ready to fight that hard. You'll be damn lucky to not earn yourself more physical therapy overdoing it like that."

"Wasn't too bad," Marco said, pulling off his gloves.

"Yeah? Why don't you stop back in here tomorrow and tell me how bad it is?" Max grabbed Marco's good arm, setting off a tension he couldn't help. Too much fight still coursed through his veins. "What's got you all tied up in knots, son?"

Marco stared at him a long moment, then figured it couldn't hurt to tell Max, of all people. "I might want something I can't have." Alyssa's face popped into his mind. Not the image of her looking back at him as she bent over his car-not the fantasy of Alyssa. But his Aly-girl, with that genuine open smile she'd worn when they'd first seen each other in the dining room at Whiskey's.

Max scoffed. "And why the hell not?"

Marco chuffed out half a laugh. Max saw everything in black or white. "Because it wouldn't be right." On so many levels. He unwound the tape from his hand.

"We're talking about a girl?"

Marco debated, then nodded.

"What's it say in here?" Max jabbed a finger against Marco's chest, just missing a tender spot where one of Nick's kicks had hit home.

Nothing I can admit. Nothing I can act on. Ever.

Marco swallowed, his throat suddenly tight and dry. "I think-" He forced some moisture into his mouth and air into his lungs. "I think it says I'm fucked."

"I'll finish up in here," Alyssa said, stifling a yawn. With Pete's blessing, she'd offered to help Eric clean the green room so she could learn what needed to be done. Forty minutes after beginning, all that was left to do was run the vacuum.

Eric gathered up the last of the garbage. "You sure? I can come back and finish that."

"It's just vacuuming. It'll take five minutes. I'll close everything up and then head out."

"All right. You're nice to have around, you know?"

Unsure how to respond, Alyssa ducked her head and busied herself unwrapping the vacuum cord.

Eric chuckled. "See ya tomorrow."

"Okay. Good night."

The door eased shut behind him.

She flicked on the vacuum and was surprised at how much her tired muscles protested as she pushed it back and forth across the carpet. With the whine of the vacuum filling the room, Alyssa tried not to think about those long moments when she'd been so damn sure Marco was going to kiss her. God, just the thought made her heart race even now.

And then he'd called her nave.

The dig hurt in places she didn't like to think about. At the age of twelve, Alyssa had lost her mother to a stroke. Her father lost his mind, searching for solace in bottle after bottle of vodka. When he couldn't find it, and when the liquor-induced numbness wore off, he'd taken it out on Brady and her, making her an unwilling witness to all that could go dark and ugly in the world. She was many things, but nave wasn't one of them.

And Marco Vieri damn well knew it.

With the flick of her thumb, she turned off the vacuum and the room went quiet. Alyssa's back and feet ached and demanded a break, so she plopped down on the couch and sank into the plush cushions. Thinking about her parents and the way she'd been forced to grow up after her mom died made her feel ancient.

She was fine now. She'd survived. Life was good. Nothing ever came from dwelling on the past.

She yawned again and her thoughts turned to Marco. Maybe she should just come out and ask him what happened in Afghanistan. Maybe if she understood more about that, she'd know better what to do to help him now. Or at least be there for him. But would he even tell her? Probably not.

But Brady might.

Alyssa drew up her knees and hugged them to her chest. Problem was, if she went to Brady, she'd have to explain why she was seeing Marco, why she'd taken the job here against his wishes, and why she wanted to know. That seemed more fraught with complications than she wanted to chance. She loved her brother to death and back, but his overprotectiveness and suspicious spidey senses knew no bounds.

The thought made her smile. I hope you're safe tonight, big brother.

She sighed and yawned again. She needed to get off this couch and back to the hotel so she could check in for the night. Tomorrow was the last shift she'd have to shadow another waitress for training, and then she'd be making a steady stream of her own tips, which would provide her with enough money to stay checked in at the hotel. Soon, she could even start apartment hunting...

Alyssa gasped awake in a pitch-black room. She flew into a sitting position and lights turned on around her. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she squinted at her surroundings, trying to figure out where the hell she was.

Oh, damn. She'd fallen asleep in the green room.

She yanked her phone out of the pocket of her jeans to check the time. 7:01 a.m. Holy crap! She didn't even remember falling asleep.