Page 40 of Love Punch

Arthur took a deep breath, then looked up from the phone to meet my eyes. “…It’s you,” he said. “Or rather…it’s Bartosh. His manager is offering a rematch, and it seems the promoters are already on board.”

I could feel my heart rate ramp up instantly. The thought of a rematch against Oleksandr Bartosh…well, my first thought wasyes.Because I knew I was better than him. I knew I could do it. I was capable of winning.

But then I took another look at Arthur’s face. Thos big, earnest eyes. “I can’t, can I?” I said.

“Why can’t you?” There was a hint of challenge in Arthur’s voice. There always was. Even when I could tell he didn’t want me to fight, here he was, trying to get me to talk it through. To tell him why I felt how I felt.

“You’ll never forgive me if I go back to it. If I let myself get back into that frame of mind,” I said.

Arthur put the phone down on the counter, face down, and reached out to take my hand. I took his, and, after a second,pulled him close. So we were sheet to sheet. No kissing, no sexual fission running through the space between us for once. Just the two of us, breathing the same air, feeling one another’s hearts beating.

“It’s not about whether I’ll forgive you, I always will,” said Arthur. “It’s about whether you’ll ever forgive yourself if you turn this down. And I think the answer is no. You won’t. You’ll regret not fighting when you had the chance for the rest of your life.”

“And if I lose?” I whispered. Months ago, I would have admitted that fear to no-one. But I could say anything to Arthur when it was just the two of us.

“Will you lose?” Arthur asked. His voice was quiet, but when I looked down at him, he was arching one eyebrow. Another challenge.

“…no,” I said. I could feel the trickle of fear deep down, but with the knowledge that Arthur might be OK with it, the usual roar of challenge, the feeling that I could do anything, was drowning out every bit of fear. I was stronger than Bartosh. I was faster, and cleverer, ad if I hadn’t showboated and he hadn’t cheated in the last fight… “I’ll have him down in two rounds.”

Arthur drifted one finger down my arm, along the words I’d had inked in service to him. “There’s a space here,” he whispered, pointing at a conspicuous blank patch of skin close to my wrist. “You only get to fill it if you fight.”

“So I fight?” I asked. I knew now that I wanted to, but only as long as he let me.

“You fight,” he said. “And I’ll be waiting on the other side.”

I was ready. I would win. And I would retire knowing that no matter what, the most beautiful man in the world would be stood by my side.

Chapter 18

Arthur

Apart of me regretted even telling Bradley about the invite to renew his fight with Oleksandr Bartosh. I knew what it would cause in him, and that his distance from me would increase every passing day — and it had. Then again, there was no way I could keep it a secret from him.

That didn’t make the weeks any easier. We were still sleeping in the same bed, twined around one another every night like lovers should. In a way, it had made us stronger, the half-reversion to the relationship we had always had. Assistant and boss. Though made easier by the fact we could communicate physically and not just verbally now.

It was Jase who’d suggested I do something for myself, in amongst everything else I’d added to my plate. “Just take one day off,” he had said. “Just one day to yourself.”

There had maybe been a little more finagling and arguing afterward, but eventually he had gone behind my back and told Bradley that Sophia had invited me back to the tattoo studio to talk art.

So there I was, stood outside the tattoo parlour and wondering if I should just turn round, head home, and eat ice cream in my pyjamas for the day, when Sophia opened the door and beckoned me in. “I was wondering when you’d turn up!”

The tattoo parlour was as immaculate as always, but unusually the front room was occupied. There was a new pleather bed laid out in the room, and a young man was laying on it, a huge network of purple lines criss-crossing his back where the woman who was tattooing him had transferred her template.

“Arthur, meet Cindy. She’s my newest junior artist. Well, my only junior artist for now,” said Sophia. Cindy looked up and waved as we passed her. I got a closer look at the man’s back. Cindy was tattooing a huge tree, the branches of which reached past his shoulder-blades whilst the trunk stretched all the way down to the small of his back.

“Come on, I’ll show you what I’m working on in the back room,” said Sophia. “I’ve asked if I can bring you in to observe, and he’s allowed it. As long as you’re discreet. I told my client that you’re very used to working with celebrities.”

I nodded, wondering who was behind the door. Sophia was known for her discretion and skill, and many celebrities had crossed through her door and into the back room. Some of the rich and famous wanted new tattoos, some wanted a discrete cover up of ones they regretted. And some…

“Theo?!” I screeched as I finally focused on the man who was laying on the tattoo bed in front of me. “No. Fucking. Way.”

Theo Tyler, Bradley’s sports-car racing cousin, looked at me like a deer in the headlights. He was laying bare-chested, and my eyes were immediately drawn to the only tattoo on his body. In cursive black lettering just below well-defined pecs, were the wordsSlower than Sebastian García.Theo was blonde, and didn’t have much body hair anyway, which meant that the tattoo was stark against his skin.

Theo’s eyes widened to a comically large size when mine met his again. “P-please don’t tell anyone. It’s just a stupid, just a…”

“Chill, I won’t tell Bradley,” I said. “I can keep secrets.”

Sophia’s head whipped between us like she was watching a tennis match. “Bradley…Theo…Oh. TylerI get it now,” she said. “Well, this can be classed as a major fuck up. An astronomical one, if you really think about it.”

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