Page 45 of Love Punch

“I’m OK,” he confirmed, but his eyes dropped to the floor.

I took a few steps forward and snack down in front of him, forcing him to meet my eyes. “Be honest with me,” I said. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Bradley gave a smile that was barely there. “OK, I’m a little bit scared,” he confessed.

“Only a little bit?”

“Of losing?”

“Not at all,” said Bradley. “I’ve been thinking about last time, and it’s not just the shame…he could have done some serious damage, and he wasn’t even punished. What if he tries to pull the same shit again?”

“I will be watching, and I will rain hellfire down on him,” I joked. Bradley’s lips quirked up properly this time. “In all seriousness, we know the ref is watching out for foul-play this time. Bartosh knows it. He’ll be too scared to try anything stupid. You haven’t got the rest of your career to worry about, he has.”

“And you think I can win?” Bradley asked, still not admitting it was a fear.

I kissed each of his knuckles in turn. They were bruised from the amount of hard training he’d been doing. “I know it. And when you win, I want you calling out to me like Rocky Balboa. And we can celebrate by having lots of sex and eating all the food you’ve not been allowed for weeks.”

“That sounds good,” he admitted. “Too good.”

Bradley hooked one finger under my chin and pulled my head up to his level, then leaned in and kissed me, slow and gentle. We didn’t need words. Just a slow burning kiss that could set the world on fire around us.

There was a knock at the door, and a timid-looking steward popped their head into the room. “Mr…Mr Bradley, you’ve been asked to attend the interview station,” he squeaked.

“I’ll be there now,” said Bradley, and kissed me again. I could feel myself blushing, and Bradley didn’t help by stroking along my cheek with his thumb. “If I win, you’re doing the next tattoo,” he said.

“When you win,” I corrected.

Bradley stood. “When I win,” he said. I wasn’t sure if it was to me or himself. But he seemed determined.

The stadium was buzzing with anticipation, and I was in full boxer’s-assistant-manager-whatever he wants me to be mode. And I was bossing it, despite my own personal nerves. I was never more in my element than when I was running the show, and running it well was what I did.

“Get them out of here!” I shouted to one of the security guards. A group of overzealous fangirls had pushed past others in their designated pen and were causing a potential safety issue as theypressed up against the railings separating them from the VIP seating around the ring. I spotted a couple of Cardiff’s only billionaire family, the Cranes, in the front row opposite where I would be, as well as all of Bradley’s family.

As the security guards ushered the poor girls away, I heard the crackle of static on my walkie talkie before a voice asked me to attend to Bradley’s family. I radioed in my affirmative, and headed through the network of tunnels to the door where I always met them. Melody and Gez were at the front of the pack, as usual, but I noticed Melody seemed restless, less poised under her usual resplendent facade. She pulled me in for a tight hug.

“I can’t believe you let him do this,” she whispered in my ear, though she didn’t sound angry.

“I only gave my blessing. He’s stubborn enough that he would have done it either way,” I replied.

“I know.”

I extricated myself from the hug and then shook Gez’s hand, and gestured for them to head the way they knew by now. I greeted Cory, who was without his usual Scandinavian accompaniment, and gave Theo a grin. What I wasn’t expecting was that Theo would have brought Sebastian García with him.

“Hola,” he said, reaching forward to clasp one of my hands between both of his.

“Hola-I mean, hello,” I replied. He was breathtaking, with his bronzed Mediterranean skin tone and piercing blue eyes. I rarely got star-struck around celebrities, but Sebastian seemed to radiate star-power like no one I’d ever seen. He was wearing a white shirt, but had unbuttoned it so that it showed his bare chest. His bare,decorated, chest.

He had caught me looking. “I hear I have you to thank for this…striking…design,” he said. His smile was wide, white and genuine. He parted his shirt more to show off the design, and my heart gave a little flutter. Why did the universally beautifulTylers feel the need to surround themselves with other beautiful people? Couldn’t they have an ugly entourage?

“No…no thanks necessary,” I said, trying to catch my breath, and then led the three of them - one professional footballer and two star race drivers - through the warren of tunnels until we reached the stadium floor.

“How come you two are here together?” I asked Theo.

“I lost a bet,” said Theo, as if that explained everything.

Once we’d reached our seats, I collapsed in one between Melody and Cory. “I won’t be doing this again. Not even if your son decides to come out of retirement.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be keeping him occupied enough. I hear he’s whisking you off to the Maldives,” said Melody.

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