Page 5 of Love Punch

I growled to myself. If Bradley actually wanted to see me box, he could put me in the ring with his very pretty, veryunprofessionalsports masseuse. How was I meant to compete with a twenty-two-year-old who looked like he’d been plucked from a dodgy Czech porn film to specifically torment my dreams?

“Sorted,” I said. “Now, if you don’t need me, I’ll be prepping lunch.” Bradley wasn’t listening. He was already ducking and weaving around Jason, who stood mostly stationary in the middle of the canvas and holding up the boxing pads.

I walked to the back of the gym, where I’d made magic happen over the past three years. After a slow start to my employment, we finally settled into some kind of routine. Bradley’s budget had increased as his star-power did, and I’d been allowed to bring more of my duties in house, though the main gym itself still looked as grotty and dark as the day I’d started. Apparently, adequate lighting wasn’t a priority—no matter how many times I’d tried to sneak contractors in.

About a year ago, a kitchen had been built in a quiet corner of the annexe, and I used it as my personal meal-prep palace, removing the need for me to work in Bradley’s kitchen for hours after we left the gym. As it was, I’d prepped all of the chicken and salad for the week to come, so preparing it for him was a doddle. I threw a couple of raw eggs, some skimmed milk and two scoops of protein powder into a blender and poured the resultant goop into a cup. Out of curiosity, I scooped a bit out of the blender with one finger and tasted it.Bleh. As bad as the last time. And the time before. You’d think I’d learn.

I grabbed three Tupperware—the bigger one for Brad, the smaller for Jason and I—and tossed the salad and chicken. I added a big dollop of spicy mayo to the smaller ones, but leftBradley’s bare. Apparently if the stuff tasted good, he would get fat. And maybe he’d trade his precious six-pack for a four.

I headed back to the ring with the food balanced on one arm like a prize-winning waiter. Jason was panting on the side, but Bradley was nowhere to be seen.

“Massage?” I asked. Jason simply nodded and held his hand out for the food. “Everything OK with you? That’s the fourth appointment you’ve had this month.”

“‘M fine,” he said around a mouthful of chicken. “Just check-ups. Not as young as I used to be.”

“Hmm.” I wanted to respect Jason’s privacy, but something was up. As Bradley’s PA, I had access and power of attorney overhismedical records. However, that didn’t extend to the whole team.

“Brad said to take the food and shake into him,” said Jason. “Thinks he can eat lying down on his front.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course he did. But taking the food in meant that I’d have to face that beautiful sports masseuse—and my own jealousy.

I put my own lunch down on the canvas and headed to the changing rooms, where the sports masseuse always set up his table.

“…ooh, yes, Bradley, you’re right. You areawfullytight here.” The masseuse’s voice carried through the changing room. I started to wonder if I might actually be half decent at boxing.

I shook my head like that would somehow clear the violent thoughts. It wasn’t Rory the Masseuse’s fault that I had a huge crush on my boss. His comments didn’t make being congenial easy, though.

“Got your food, Mr Tyler,” I said, placing down the chicken and the protein shake on the bench nearest the massage table where he was lying face down with little but a towel to cover his modesty.

“Mr Tyler? Since when have we been so formal?” Brad asked. “Should I start calling you Mr…what was it again?”

I was unable to stop the eyeroll that followed. “Mr Penrose. You’d have thought you would have looked over my credentials at least once in the last three years. And I’ll continue to be this formal as long as other staff insist on being tooinformal.” I threw a look toward Rory, who was so engrossed in Bradley’s biceps and armpit that he didn’t even notice I was talking about him.Same, girl.

Bradley noticed, though, and his face turned down into a frown. “Everything okay, Arthur?”

“All good, Mr Tyler. I’ll go and talk to Jason about your schedule this week.”

I tried not toflounceout of the room. But my attitude may have been a little bit…flouncy.

“Thanks for the lunch, son,” Jason said as I finally sat on the edge of the canvas to eat my own. Even with the big dollop of full-fat mayo, the meals I’d been eating for the last three years were a massive improvement on the crap I’d eaten my entire life.

“Any time, Jase; it’s what you pay me for.”

“No, you get paid to look after Brad. Everything else is above and beyond,” Jason said quietly.

“Looking after youislooking after Brad. He loves you, so I’m looking after you until you retire. And probably after that too,” I confessed.

“No wonder he likes you so much.”

My heart stuttered. Bradley liked me, that I was certain of. In the way I wanted him to like me? That I doubted. Not when he was a rich muscle god with access to any man or woman he wanted.

“That masseuse needs taking down a peg or two, the way he was talking to Bradley when he came in,” Jason said. Ishe reading my mind?

“I volunteer as tribute,” I joked.

“Well, if he…” Jason started, but tailed off as the door to the changing room swung open. Bradley stood silhouetted in the light, all muscle and water-slicked skin. A second later, Rory pushed past him, portable table tucked under his arm. He wiped his spare arm across his face as if dispelling tears before he left the gym.

“Sorry, Arthur, I don’t mean to step on your job. But I felt like I had to let Rory go. He was being way too unprofessional.” Bradley said the words matter-of-factly, but Jason stifled a laugh.

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