Neither man saw me as they locked together, each determined to see the other bleed. I jumped over the white couch and grabbed the bottle of champagne Jackson had brought in. I stood up on the white cushions and waited for an opening.
Fenton slammed an upper cut into Jackson’s gut and I knew the next punch in the combination was a right hook to his cheek. Fenton could not afford to bruise or possibly break his knuckles on Jackson's face. So, I raised the champagne bottle high in the air and swung it down as hard I could.
There was a sickening thud, and Jackson crumbled. Fenton froze, his clouded blue eyes confused. Then, he blinked and saw me.
"Please tell me he's not dead," I said.
Fenton leaned down to check Jackson's pulse. "Not dead, not even fractured. Too bad."
He stood up, and I launched myself from the couch into his arms. "Thank you, thank you. I can't believe you came. I'm so sorry. Oh, Fenton, I never would have forgiven myself if you had gotten hurt. Oh my God, the fight! You have to go."
Fenton held me, his hand smoothing down my hair. "Shh, it's fine. You took him out in the first round. We have plenty of time. Are you okay?"
I felt my body shaking but the strength of his arms soon dispelled it. "I'm fine. You came for me. Wait, why did you come here?"
His lips curled into a smile inches from mine. "I came to see you. I wanted to make sure you were safe. Dana Maria told me about Jackson, and after what I saw with Sienna, I was worried."
"Oh," I said. I loosened my hold on his neck. "Thank you."
Fenton shook his head and laughed. He brushed a soft kiss across my lips. "I came for you. Turns out you were right. You said in your message last night that you had good luck. Well, I want some of it. Hell, I want you."
"You can have all my good luck. I don't believe in it anymore. I just believe in you."