Feeling Rhys tense beside me fueled my indignation. Relying on years of practice dealing with unjustifiable snobbery, I kept my voice pleasant. “I’ll sit with Rhys, but thank you.” Before Fairchild could say anything, I pulled away, taking Rhys with me, and led him to two seats in the back.

“Sit up front.” Fairchild stood over us.

“We’re good.” Rhys didn’t even look at him, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he reached for my hand to hold it on his knee.

For a moment, I thought Fairchild would argue because he hovered over us longer than appropriate. Finally, however, he strode away, back toward the bar.

“Fucking psycho,” Rhys muttered under his breath.

I squeezed his hand. “What do you think this is about?”

“One guess.” He cut me a dark look. “We’re about to see a match.”

Understanding dawned and anger rippled through me. “One of yours?”

“I’d place money on it.”

Ugh! That man! My skin was hot with anger as I sat stiff beside Rhys. “I am so sorry.”

I felt a tug and turned to Rhys as he pulled my hand against his chest. “Don’t you apologize. I mean it.”

Seeing the sincerity on his face, I nodded, but that didn’t mean my guilt miraculously disappeared.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Fairchild called from the back of the room, “some of you may know that we are in the presence of one of the finest boxing champions of his generation. Rhys Morgan.”

I looked over my shoulder at Fairchild, along with the rest of my colleagues. Rhys stared straight ahead. When Fairchild began to clap, forcing everyone else to join in, I wanted a hole in the floor to open so Rhys and I could disappear from the awkwardness of the moment.

“Jesus fuck,” Rhys murmured.

“I agree,” I whispered. “Jesus is probably asking himself, ‘What the fuck was his Father thinking making this guy a billionaire?’ That is … if you believe in that stuff.”

Rhys grinned at me, and a pleasurable ache spread across my chest at the sight of it.

“So, without further ado,” Fairchild said, his awful voice ruining the moment, “I have procured footage from Morgan’s most memorable fight with Cal Davis. Settle in and enjoy.”

The lights went down and the screen flickered to life.

If it weren’t for the tension emanating from Rhys, I might have enjoyed watching him fight. However, knowing about his best friend, understanding the soul-deep fear Rhys had of ending someone’s life or leaving his brother alone in this world, killed that enjoyment.

Instead, I tried to take Rhys’s mind off the fight playing out on the screen, and the man behind us, who was attempting what felt like underhanded mental warfare to get Rhys to do what he wanted.

I leaned into Rhys, my voice low, my lips touching his ear as I whispered, “You are unfairly hot.”

He stiffened a little but didn’t move away as I continued. “I could ignore it, the hotness, I mean, if you weren’t so funny, charming, sweet, kind, and loyal. It takes your hotness to combustible levels. Oh, and the bike. The bike that—” His mouth cut off my words.

I clasped his face in my hands, feeling the bristle of his unshaven cheeks as he kissed me hard and deep in the dark of the theater. The sounds of the fight became background noise as I made out with him in public.

And I didn’t care.

As long as I was distracting him from Fairchild’s underhanded antics, I remained unconcerned what anyone thought of my actions.

Rhys broke the kiss to whisper, “I ain’t sweet, dahlin’, but fuck, you definitely are. Taste it too.”

The lights suddenly came to life, and we blinked against it. Our colleagues murmured around us and we realized the fight had finished. I could feel their eyes on us, but Rhys and I were engrossed in one another.

He brushed a thumb over my lips. “Thank you.”

Understanding, I smiled. “That kind of distraction wasn’t really a hardship.”

Rhys chuckled, pressed a cute kiss to my nose, and stood, taking me with him. Glancing around, I saw I was right—my colleagues were looking at him, entirely fascinated.

They may have known he was an ex-heavyweight boxing champion, but knowing and seeing were two different things.

“Isn’t he something?” Fairchild said to the room as he walked toward us. “Now that our viewing entertainment is over, my guests must be hungry. My staff has laid out a world-class buffet in the dining room. Follow Andrew.” He gestured to the exit where Andrew the house concierge waited. “He’ll show you the way.”

Rhys and I moved toward the door, but Fairchild blocked our path. He held up a hand to stay us and waited until everyone else had left the room before opening his mouth. “Morgan, you and I need to talk.” His eyes cut to me and his expression hardened. “I need to speak with Rhys privately. Please follow the others to the dining room, Ms. Brown.”