Outmatched

“Where did you go to?” Fairchild came to a stop in front of us. “One minute you were there, the next, poof.” My boss flicked me a look. “There’s no doubt who’s to blame. You can’t seem to keep your hands off this one, Morgan.”

I tensed against Rhys and felt him squeeze my hip in reassurance.

“What can I do for you?” Rhys bit out, and there was no hiding his impatience.

Concerned, I looked up at him to gauge his expression, and he was staring blankly at Fairchild.

Fairchild narrowed his eyes at Rhys’s tone. “Well, for a start, we can finish our conversation. Now, I’m happy to come look at that gym of yours, but I’d be even happier to do it if you’d just listen to me.”

Feeling Rhys’s grip on my hip turn bruising, my concern escalated. “Rhys, what’s going on?”

“Or perhaps Parker can convince you since she seems to be holding your balls captive.”

I sucked in a breath at Fairchild’s insult.

Rhys made a step forward in agitation.

I pulled him back, not understanding what was happening here. “Rhys?”

“I’m trying to set up a private fight for your boyfriend, Parker, and it will make him a lot of money.” Fairchild looked from me to Rhys and then back to me. “Perhaps you can convince him not to be a fool and accept this invitation.”

With that, the slime strode back to the garden party, and I watched in stunned silence before turning to Rhys. Avoiding my gaze, he marched toward the house.

What the ever-loving …

Hurrying after him, I caught up in the foyer. “Rhys!” I grabbed his wrist, pulling him to a stop. He glared down at me in a way I once would have found intimidating but now just found maddening. “Where are you going? What is going on?”

He flicked a look at a passing server, and then removed my hand from his wrist. He then clasped my hand in his, and I could feel his anger as he pulled me along behind him. We cut down a hall that was clearly off-limits to guests, and Rhys pushed open a door. He guided me in first, and I stumbled into the room, hearing the door close behind him.

We were in what I could only presume was a TV room that faced the front of the house. There were two short steps leading to a lower level, where a massive seven-seater sofa was placed directly in front of a projector screen. On the shelves beside Rhys and I was a modern projector along with shelves and shelves of DVDs.

“Why are we in here?” I turned to face him. “Fairchild—”

“Wants me to fight. Yeah.”

“In exchange for helping you with the gym?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, expression dark but removed. He didn’t respond.

Suddenly, everything made sense.

“This was your plan? From the moment you met Fairchild?”

“My gym is in trouble. It was an opportunity.”

For some reason, that stung. “I see.”

“Do you?”

His countenance, although still cloudy, was no longer distant. In fact, his green eyes were burning in a way I recognized. A shiver tickled down my spine.

This one was the good kind.

“Rhys,” I whispered, “how far are you willing to go to save your dad’s gym?” I stepped toward him and placed a tentative hand on his hard chest. His heart was pounding. “Don’t do it. It’s not worth what it’ll cost you.”

Our eyes met and held, a heavy silence falling thick between us. My breathing shallowed as his eyes dipped to my mouth, resting there as he bit out, “What about you? What about what you’re willing to do to impress Fairchild and the people who sniff at his ass? Why the fuck do you care what these people think?”

Confused by the subject change, I moved to step back, lowering my hand, but Rhys caught my wrist and pulled me against him. I uttered a little gasp, one hand falling against his abs while he kept the other imprisoned against his chest.

“Rhys?”

“Why?” he growled.

I didn’t understand why I was the object of his anger. It wasn’t that he was transferring his frustration with Fairchild to me; I realized that Rhys had been visibly annoyed with me almost from the moment we’d arrived. What was more alarming, however, was the current of sexual heat that accompanied that annoyance.

I didn’t understand it.

Rhys kept telling me this was just a job to him.

Yet he was looking at me now like he wanted to devour me.

“Rhys?”

“Why?”

My nerves were stretched taut by this point and my patience snapped. “I don’t care what these people think!”

“Bullshit!”

My chin jerked back at his vehemence. “Not bullshit.”

Rhys’s eyes widened marginally at my cursing.

Defiant, aggravated, turned on, confused, I tried to pull away again, but his other arm wrapped around my waist, imprisoning me against him. “Let go.”

“Why do you care what these people think?”