Page 76 of Sweet Addiction
Time to get this shit taken care of.
Three hours later, I’m sitting in the middle of a long table set up on the closed gym floor, a black tablecloth covering it, with a hunter green Crucible MMA Gym logo emblazoned on it. Hudson, Killian, Killian’s dad, and my uncle Cade, the original MMA champion and owner of Crucible, all stand behind me while Liv sits beside me.
My parents are here, next to the rest of my family in the front room. They’re all supporting me among a room full of vultures. Liv and Hudson pulled this together overnight, closing the gym to give us privacy for the press conference.
One I still can’t believe I’m having.
I fucked off a lot in the early years of my career. Drinking, women, the occasional prohibited substance, and yet none of that has ever come back to bite me in the fucking ass the way thissex tape has, and it isn’t even me. Maybe I’d be way less pissed at the entire fucking world if it was. At least then I’d have earned this bullshit.
Liv stands, moving to the microphone at the end of the table, wearing another expensive fitted black suit. Today’s shoes are dark purple, and the heels look sharp as hell—another pair of weapons disguised as shoes.
Livvy doesn’t need shoes as weapons. When you’re as smart and good at your job as she is, you only need words. People underestimate her all the time because she’s young and hot. Not that I think she’s hot because what the fuck, she’s my cousin, but men and women have been drooling over her for years. What none of them have bothered to learn is she’s an actual genius with a Mensa IQ and photographic memory. I’d pick her in a battle of intellects every single time. Would I want her to be the person giving someone the warm and fuzzies? Fuck no. Warm and fuzzy, she fails at, but I don’t need warm and fuzzy. I need a shark.
I sit back, letting her speak without saying a word.
I don’t flinch.
I don’t move.
That’s my job until the questions start.
We went over this earlier.
She basically threatened me if I reacted to anything that was said. Emotionless. That was Liv’s order, and apparently, I’m taking orders.
So I sit and wait until Liv turns my way once she’s done, winks so only my team and I can see it, then sits down, so prim, prissy, and self-satisfied with the job she’s done, I don’t bother fighting the quick grin that tugs my lips as the shouting begins.
“Rome— Rome— Titan—” the voices all call out at once from every direction in the crowd.
I don’t answer any.
Not right away.
We discussed this too.
Prepped for it.
I was given instructions for this too because Liv thought of it all.
I wait for the voice I know.
The one who’s agreed to ask a specific question in return for an exclusive after my fight takes place. The sports editor atThe Philly Press.
“Rome—” His voice is finally heard above everyone else’s, and I nod my head at him. The old man’s bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows narrow as he holds out his phone, no doubt recording this. “What’s your take on this, Titan? Do you have any idea why you’re being targeted?”
And there it is.
According to Liv, that’s the magic phrase we needed everyone to hear.
Why you’re being targeted.
“My take...?” I repeat. “I think this is someone searching for their chance to get ten minutes of fame, and they’re using my name to do it. I think someone’s going to take credit soon enough, and their name will be splashed everywhere. I’m not sure what that gets them or how that helps them. All I know is that man in the video isn’t me.”
“Next question,” Liv announces, making sure I don’t say more than I’ve been instructed to. She was very specific this morning during the prep. Answer the question. Move the fuck on. Don’t give more than I’m supposed to. Don’t get mad. Don’t give them any kind of catchy headline. Stay on point—that man in the video isn’t me.
She would have been an incredible trial lawyer had she decided to go that route after law school instead of becoming an agent.
The shouting starts again, and I’m left feeling more like a monkey at the damn zoo than a fighter missing half a day of training for this shit show. A half a day I don’t want to miss.
