Breaking the Hate: The Breaking Series, #1

By Ember Leigh

Sadie's job is to smear her brother's opponent — not fall in love with him.

 

But when the hotly contested matchup between her brother Brute and her crush Hawk brings them all to the same city, a chance encounter turns into much more than a one-night stand.

Sadie finds herself walking a fine line between responsibility, deception, and head-over-heels love.

One thing's for certain: all hell is gonna break loose when her brother finds out she's been secretly dating his rival.

This is the prequel novella to the Breaking series, which follows swoony alpha fighter heroes and the women that bring them to their knees.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ember Leigh
• Release date: Oct 4, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227852083

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Sadie had been waiting to get to Denver for months.

Like a teenybopper waiting for just a glimpse of One Direction, Sadie had been counting the minutes until her plane landed in Colorado and she was officially within a mile radius of her celebrity MMA crush, Hawk Romano.

She’d only ever seen him on television, of course, and in plenty of online rag mags dedicated to showcasing the best—and worst—of the professional MMA fighting circle. That was as close as she was allowed to get—legally, professionally, and ethically. Not that Hawk would even know that she was in the same city as him during his upcoming pay-per-minute fight, but she wondered if there was some sort of radar that might alert her that the object of her insane, outrageous, and totally forbidden crush was nearby.

Because even though he was in the same city, she couldn’t let anyone know she was keeping an eye out for him, much less excited to see him. No, the Hawk hunt had to stay a secret. Their paths would cross eventually; it was just a matter of when? and would she be able to contain herself?

Sadie took a deep, cleansing breath of that crisp, mountain city air as she headed for a trendy bar she’d googled while on the plane. She had checked into the hotel, her workday was over, and now she was ready to enjoy this brand-new city with her brand-new business expense card. The hipster joint, BARFLY, was outfitted with high industrial ceilings and exposed brick. She headed straight for the bar, the murmur of conversations settling pleasantly around her.

The drink menu came on a piece of reclaimed driftwood, featuring drinks with cacao nibs and jalapeño-watermelon concoctions. Facing the story-tall display of glittering liquor bottles, she ordered and then nursed an exotic mint julep that sent prickles down her forearms from how damn fresh it smelled.

Just like everything in Denver, apparently.

Sadie absorbed the chill vibes of the bar, concentrating on not thinking about her to-do list for the upcoming two weeks. Yes, this was a work trip, but it felt equal part vacation, especially since she was sure to glimpse Hawk Romano at some point. Even though, if this were a normal vacation, she wouldn’t be surrounded by coworkers and family members who prohibited her from lusting after the hottest man in the universe. But here in reality, she couldn’t even utter the word Hawk without inviting a diatribe and at least three punches in the drywall.

And that was how it had been for as long as she’d been lusting after him. She’d simply learned to keep her Hawk-traction to herself. Buried away. Covered in barbed wire. And en route to Sweden.

Nobody sat on the stools around her as one drink turned into two. By the time she ordered a third, she was sufficiently sauced but wanted just oooone last taste of the tantalizing tonic. After all, snow was falling onto the streets of Denver, which she could see through the enormous bay windows, so she needed something to keep her warm for the walk back.

She tipped the bartender for the third time when he brought the last drink. As she brought it to her lips, the sip turned into a sharp inhale when she spotted the newest person to enter the bar. She sputtered, trying not to choke, as her cheeks ignited.

She set the drink down but couldn’t look away. After all, maybe her eyes deceived her. Maybe these mint juleps were psychedelic.

Or maybe that really was Hawk Romano sauntering toward the bar, looking a billion times hotter than every single TV spot she’d ever seen.

She tried not to gawk, but it was impossible not to. He moved with the subtle confidence of a world-renowned fighter, the type of cocky saunter that just begged someone to start something. From one glance alone, it was obvious he could kill a man if need be.

His dark hair was cropped close to his head, those famous namesake bird tats barely visible on his skull. She’d been studying him long enough to know he didn’t often buzz his hair down so that they showed, so not only was this a celebrity meeting, this was also an exotic bird sighting.

Hawk eased onto the stool two seats down from her. She took a perfunctory sip of her drink, trying to act natural. He’d come alone. The bartender took his drink order and quickly returned with a glass of something sparkling and clear and lime. She recognized the classic look like you’re drinking but it’s really just water trick.

Hawk’s gaze flicked her way. She froze, a deer in headlights. She mustered what felt like a smile and then forced her gaze to the shiny wood of the bar. She needed to play it cool. But what did that entail? Sitting rigidly with indecision until he wandered off and she cursed her cowardice? No. She needed to talk to him. Say something, at least. Introduce herself as a fan. Get an autograph that she’d hide in that same vault in Sweden, away from her parents’ and brother’s prying eyes.

She knew they were destined to cross paths; she just never imagined that it would happen here, on day one, before she’d been able to mentally and physically prepare herself to be near his beefcake perfection.

Because that was the truth—the man radiated manliness, bulkiness, pure pheromones and cologne. Even from two seats away she caught a whiff of something she assumed was the highest-end designer fragrance that only top MMA fighters could afford as he slipped his winter coat off. She knew, because her brother had a bad habit of dropping too much coin on shit like that.

Big biceps strained at the sleeves of his simple black tee. Her mouth parted, and she was unable to retrieve her jaw.

Courage licked through her, perhaps aided by the newest sip of alcohol. Why not say something and just see what happened? It wasn’t like the paparazzi would know. She looked around, trying to gauge if anyone in the bar was secretly filming or snapping pics. Hawk had a fiery reputation in the MMA world, and equally explosive in the regular celebrity gossip mills. It didn’t help that he had a temper in the octagon and had dallied with a healthy number of younger A-list celebs at this point.

And really, she didn’t care about his past. She just needed to make sure that she didn’t show up in any pictures with Hawk.

If that news leaked? She might as well quit her job now.

Suddenly warm, she tugged off her coat, cursing her lackluster preparation for meeting the man she’d masturbated to for the past year. Blonde fly-aways felt like tentacles after the snowmelt dried. She rummaged through her purse—no lipstick, no lip gloss. Not even a mirror. Nothing but exhaustion after the workday and flight from New York to Denver.

The bartender flitted by, and she raised her hand in a jerky motion. ’Scuse me!

He glanced her way while he filled a tumbler with Sprite. Yeah?

I need to… She licked her lips, glancing over at Hawk. His gaze moved—had he been looking at her? I want to buy another…something.

The bartender popped a cherry into the drink. One second.

She measured her breaths while the bartender finished his current order. When he returned, she leaned forward and whispered, I want to buy a drink for Hawk.

What?

Hawk. He’s— she paused, unsure how to make this look not-obviously weird. That guy to my left. His name is Hawk. I mean, it’s his fighting name. He’s a—never mind. I want to buy him a whiskey. Top shelf. Neat.

The bartender lifted a brow. Sure.

She watched as he prepared the tumbler, her mouth dry. Was she insane buying an alcoholic drink for an actively training fighter? Yes. But if she’d sent over a glass of water, it might have been construed as an insult. She swallowed hard as the bartender finished preparing the drink and handed it over to Hawk. She only caught the undertones of what the bartender said. Hawk sat raptly, squinting a little as he listened, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass.

The bartender jerked his head in Sadie’s direction.

Hawk’s gaze immediately followed it.

Their eyes met for a brief, scorching second, which sent Sadie’s stomach tumbling to her feet. She downed the rest of her drink—What are you actually doing, Sadie, you shouldn’t have engaged, holy shit, what if everyone finds out???—and tried to convince herself to stop giving a damn.

It was done. She couldn’t take it back now, even though she should have never done more than look. Besides, it wasn’t like Hawk would truly be interested in someone like her, she reasoned. Not with these garish octopus leggings and day-old mascara. According to his rap sheet, Hawk was used to top-shelf beauty vloggers, ex-Disney stars turned musical divas, and the occasional random beauty who slid into his DMs and then inked a modeling contract directly after.

Hawk didn’t stop for overworked PR gurus who barely remembered to brush their hair.

What were the chances that her business partners—which consisted of Mom, Dad, and her brother Brute—would find out? If anything, she could make up an adequate lie about why she and Hawk were spotted within arm’s reach. They all would expect—demand, more like—that she quickly exit the bar and craft an insider tip about Hawk’s pre-fight activities. This shit was common in the weeks leading up to the main event. Any semblance of doubt or rule-breaking was capitalized on.

And Sadie would know.

Because her brother Brute was fighting Hawk in two weeks, and she’d been the captain of the smear campaign against him. A role she hated as much as she needed.

As she swirled deeper into her thoughts, she barely noticed the warmth at her side. The way all the hairs stood at attention on her forearms. The hint of overly expensive cologne that invaded her senses and draped her with longing and security.

She turned and gasped.

Hawk had arrived.

CHAPTER TWO

Hawk had certain expectations about Colorado. The weed, for starters. Incredible mountain views, for another.

But he certainly hadn’t expected to start settling into his temporary fight home and immediately get hit on at the bar.

Not like he minded. No, this cute little blondie seemed nervous and awkward in a way that he needed more of in his life. He grinned down at her, relishing the way her gaze flashed back and forth across his face.

You buy me this? he asked, as if there was any doubt. He turned the tumbler in a slow half-circle, lapping up the surprise that washed over her heart-shaped face.

What? No, I uh—yes. Yeah, I did. She cleared her throat, crossing and uncrossing her legs.

Sweet of you. He eased onto the stool at her side, pushing it away a little. Can’t drink it, though.

Yeah, I figured, she blurted, and then slapped her forehead. I mean—

You know who I am, don’t you? He tried not to sound cocky about it. Hell, he was still getting used to the fact that he was technically a celebrity. Sometimes the fame came more from who he hooked