“Pound town,” I repeat.
“Yes, you’re gagging for a one–way ticket.” I squeal as I am dragged underneath my powerful man in a fit of giggles.
It seems I quite like destination pound town. I would sugge
st you take the scenic route.
We are in the shower and I am very relaxed. I can’t remember feeling so…sleepy. I have told him I love him and he hasn’t run for the hills—things are looking promising. Although I did notice he didn’t say it back.
“What are the plans for today?” I ask. He kisses my shoulder and continues washing my back.
“I have to do some training. I have a fight tomorrow night.”
My eyes widen and I jerk around to face him. “Fight… Josh. I don’t want you fighting anymore. I don’t like it.”
He frowns at me. “Tough shit,” he replies. “I do.”
I’m shocked. “Tough shit,” I reply as my face drops. He nods to confirm that I heard him right. I quickly wash the soap off and exit the shower. I’ll give him tough shit…tough shit, he really should keep that big mouth of his shut more often. I quickly dress and walk out onto the balcony. He, however, takes his time and doesn’t join me for at least twenty minutes. By that time I am fuming. I am not dating a fucking cage–fighter. No way in hell. What does he think this is? An episode of Conan the Barbarian? Annoyingly, he walks out onto the balcony holding our breakfast tray, looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Why would he? I have just been fucked every which way in a porno…which he produced. I’m an idiot. He smiles warmly at me as he sits down at the table and starts to remove the trays for breakfast. I cross my arms like a petulant teenager.
He raises a brow. “Are you eating?” Is he deluded? I shake my head. He hunches his shoulders and starts to tuck into his breakfast. I scowl again. He’s so annoying. He doesn’t even care I’ve got the shits. I walk over and pour myself a coffee. I really am starving and he knows it, the asshole.
“Don’t you care that I’ve got the shits?” I snap.
He continues chewing his food and shrugs his shoulders. “Not really.” He smiles as he swallows. My mouth drops open, of all the arrogant…I do wide eyes at him and he has the audacity to laugh. I’m so mad but for some stupid reason I find myself mirroring his stupid smile.
“What’s funny?” I snap.
“You are,” he smirks.
“What planet are you from? I am not dating a cage–fighter Josh. End of story.” He scowls.
“What planet are you from if you think I’m going to put up with your shit? You are not telling me what I can and can’t do, Natasha. Just because you love me doesn’t make you the boss of me,” he snaps.
I scowl again. Oohh touché idiot, trust him to throw the love–you thing in. “Why in the hell do you want to do this anyway? I don’t get it.”
“Sit and eat your breakfast,” he sighs as he points at my chair with his knife. I sit and start to eat my breakfast in silence and he smirks at me.
“Seriously Josh, I’m going to have a shiny new pair of earrings in a minute,” I hold up my butter knife and he laughs.
“Calm down psycho, I do it for exercise and the challenge,” he says.
“Challenge,” I repeat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugs. “Apart from you, I don’t really have any challenges. Without sounding conceited, most things come easy for me. I love technology. I would do it for free but it has paid me a lot more than I feel I deserve. That money has allowed me to buy the thoroughbred horses I love, so I find polo easy as well. My cars, houses and women. Everything comes easy. But when I fight it doesn’t matter how much money I make, or what my brain can do, or how I look. It just doesn’t matter, it’s just me and my opponent and the ring and if I can’t fight then I’m going to get beaten and that feeling of being equal gives me a massive adrenaline hit. I love it.” I narrow my eyes as I listen. “I know it sounds like a head trip but that’s how it is,” he says deadpan. I suppose that does make sense. I can only imagine how it feels to be so successful. I should be so lucky. I know I’m not going to win this argument and it’s true I don’t want him to have to change to be with me.
“Fine, but I’m not supporting this. There is no way in hell I am going to another fight.”
He smiles and picks up my hand and kisses the back of it. “Deal,” he whispers. “I have no wish at all to tell you what you can and can’t do.” He raises an eyebrow.
Margaret Stanton arrives at her solicitor’s office just after nine. She has travelled to Sydney to see this solicitor. She couldn’t trust anyone in Melbourne. They all know her husband. She is shown into his office by his secretary and she nervously takes her seat.
“Can I get you a coffee, Mrs Stanton?”
“No thanks, dear,” she smiles. The tall grey solicitor enters and shakes her hand.
“Mrs Stanton,” he smiles.
“Yes,” she whispers.