I turn to Blake. “You know what this is about?”
Blake looks at the space Taylor recently vacated then back to me. “No clue.” He shrugs.
We make plans to continue training tomorrow, and I head to Taylor’s office.
He probably wants to talk to me about the fight, but I feel like a kid called to the principal’s office. There’s no way he could know about my deal with Dominick. Dominick isn’t stupid enough to go flapping his gums. Blake and Raven are the only other ones that know. Blake seemed just as caught off guard as I was, and Raven, well, there’s no way she’s talking.
His no-good assistant isn’t at her desk, so I walk in his office without knocking. It’s an asshole thing to do, but I don’t have the patience for social politeness.
Taylor looks up from his computer screen. “Jonah, have a seat.”
I stay standing. “What’s this about?”
He lifts his eyebrows and nods to the chair in front of me. I sit.
“We just signed a deal for a joint campaign with the female MMA fighting league.”
“Okay. What does that have to do with me?”
“Not much, just a few cross promotions, photo shoots, magazine covers—stuff like that.”
I nod. It’s not uncommon that the UFL use me for promotional shit. I still don’t see why this warrants a visit to the boss’s office.
“I’m going to need you to be seen with their headlining fighter, Camille Fisher. Won’t be much, just the pre-fight formal dinner, and we’ll get her seats by your corner for the title fight. After that, a few sightings out at the clubs ought to do it.”
Pretending to date a girl I don’t even know so that the suits can pull off a campaign? Hell no.
“No. I’m not doing that.”
His eyes narrow and he leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “No? Why not.”
“I’m dating someone. I’ll be bringing her to the formal dinner, and she’ll have my seats at the fight.”
With a chuckle, he leans back into his chair, relaxed. “That it? Surely a few dates with another girl won’t bother her. Tell her it’s for work. Besides, have you seen Camille? She’s hot. I’m doing you a favor, my friend.”
What kind of man does he think I am? The kind that fucks girls whose names he doesn’t know without a second thought. Not anymore.
“Look, Taylor, I want to help you out. I’ll do photo shoots, press junkets, whatever, but I’m not cheating on my girl even if it’s staged for publicity. Have Del Toro do it.”
“She doesn’t want Del Toro. She’s requested you personally.”
I shake my head, completely solid, unwavering.
“Who’s this girl who’s got you by the balls?” he asks with genuine curiosity.
My head tilts slightly as I fix my stare on him. “Don’t see how that’s your business.”
“You’ve been fighting for me for eight years, and I’ve never even heard a rumor about you getting serious with a girl. Now, just weeks before your title fight, a fight that is going to make me a lot of money, you get serious?”
I shrug. Where in the hell is he going with this?
“No bullshit, I’m worried. I need you on your game, no distractions. I think it’s in the best interest of the organization for you to put your relationship on hold until after the fight.”
I sit forward, leaning one elbow on my knee. This guy’s got his head shoved up his own ass if he thinks I’d give up Raven to please him.
“Haven’t had a dad since I was twelve, Taylor. Managed to make it this far without one. Don’t need one now.”
“I’m not speaking as a parent, Jonah. I’m speaking as your boss.”
“Don’t remember seeing you dictating who I date in my contract.”
“I can’t force you, but I can advise you.”
“Consider me advised. We done?”
“No. Don’t forget about the press conference.”
“That’s what I have a publicist for. Now, we done?”
He studies my face for a few long seconds then shrugs.
I stand to leave, but turn just before walking out the door. “Let your assistant know I’ll be bringing a date to the pre-fight dinner.”
His eyes dart to mine and narrow a fraction. I smile back before walking out.
Who the fuck does he think he is?
*
Raven
“Hey, Dog.” I place his food on the bottom step and scratch behind his ears. He purrs as he eats. I smile at the content sound, knowing I’d be making the same one if I could.
After last night, I’ve been walking around in a perpetual state of contentment, robbing me of my focus.
“Yeah, I know how you feel. Feels good to be taken care of.” I rub Dog from head to tail and back. “Good kitty.”
My phone rings, scaring Dog and sending him down the alley and behind a dumpster.
“Hey, Eve.” I take the conversation inside, hoping my absence will bring Dog back to finish his food.