The breath left me as I walked into the gym and saw how the place had been transformed for the fight. Although the first-floor gymnasium was left relatively untouched, the interior decorator had laid a red carpet and golden ropes that led to the second-floor staircase. Huge pots of ferns sat here and there; she’d also hung massive black-and-white canvas photographs of famous fighters, including a beautiful shot of Rhys when he’d just won the heavyweight championship belt.

I gazed around the first floor, watching catering staff wander up to elegantly dressed guests who were taking their time walking along the carpet to stare at the photographs. From here I could see Diana Crichton Jones and her fiancé, and I had a sudden urge to run like a little girl across the gym and throw myself into her arms in gratitude.

Thankfully, I refrained.

“Parker.”

I spun around, the short skirt of my dark green dress fluttering around my thighs. Carlos stood in front of me, looking incredibly handsome in a tailored suit. “You look great.”

His dark eyes dragged down my body and back up again. “So do you. Maybe too good. Rhys told me to bring you to him before the fight but seeing you in that dress, I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

I glanced down at my dress, wondering what was wrong with it. It was by Self-Portrait, a lovely forest green with a pleated skirt, sweetheart neckline, short sleeves, and black lace cutout detail on the waist and upper chest. It was demure as far as I could tell, except for my black platform-heeled, peep-toe sandals. Those were a little sexy.

“Pfft.” I waved off Carlos’s comment. “I want to see him.”

“Okay.” He gently took my elbow, and I heard him mutter, “Dios mio, Jimmy is going to kill me.”

We took the back elevator to the second floor. It seemed to take forever. I found myself tapping my foot.

“You nervous?”

I glanced over at Rhys’s best friend, a denial forming on my lips. However, it didn’t come out. The truth was, I was beyond nervous for Rhys to fight. I hadn’t slept a wink the night before worrying about it.

Not just because I was concerned about some guy punching the hell out of him, or vice versa, but because I was still anxious about what this fight might do to him. I knew now Rhys had gone to see Marcy because he needed closure with her before he could step back in the ring. Her permission, which from the story he’d told me, she’d given with grace and compassion.

She sounded like a lovely person and someone I wanted to meet. She was important to Rhys, and anything important to him was important to me.

I froze against the elevator doors as they opened.