“Rhys Morgan, I’ll be damned,” Fairchild said for the tenth time, his level of enthusiasm never waning. “Could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw you standing there.”

A simple uppercut would have knocked him over. Though he was fairly tall and appeared to be in reasonable shape, he had a glass jaw look about him—surface tough guy who’d talk a good game, then fold under the first sign of any real physical threat. That said, he obviously thought he was the man.

He strode through the space as though he owned it. Maybe he did. The guy oozed wealth, from his gray bespoke Savile Row suit to his fine Italian leather loafers. I once had the means to buy those things and strut around like an overpuffed peacock. But those days were best forgotten.

Unfortunately, I was in for a walk down memory lane with Fairchild. He clasped my shoulder and gave it a shake and a squeeze. “Where have you been, son?”

Only one person had the right to call me son, and he was dead. I gritted my teeth and shrugged lightly, dislodging his grip. “Here and there.”

The pretty hostess stopped at a table in a secluded corner. She pulled out a chair and Fairchild smoothly sat down before Parker could. All class, this guy.

I turned and gave my “date” a smile with teeth before pulling out another chair. “Sweetheart?”

Glossy dark eyes shot sparks of pure rage at me as she returned my smile—it was more of a grimace, honestly—and took the proffered seat with the easy grace of someone born to money.

“Thank you.”

Butter wouldn’t melt in that mouth.

Like that, I imagined her mouth slick and soft and melting on my… Discipline, damn it! No way in hell was I going to allow myself to be attracted to Ms. Parker Brown, Fifth Avenue princess.

She was nothing more than a possible solution to my current problems. Because, as much as I hated to agree with Dean, a couple thousand dollars a month for pretending to be her boyfriend was easy, much-needed money. And, in a stroke of rare but brilliant insight, it occurred to me that I could kill two birds with one stone here. Fairchild was a fan and fucking loaded, which made him a potential sponsor for the gym. I only had to convince him of it.

Otherwise, I’d chalk the night up as an opportunity to rattle Parker Brown’s chain as payback for attempting to buy my brother. Then I was out of here and out of her life.

Clearing my throat, I sat in the chair next to hers. But Fairchild scowled with all the petulance of a spoiled kid. “I thought I said you were sitting with me, Rhys. Ms. Brown, change seats.”