A selfish bonus to being “green” (other than the awesome eco-warrior status) was it kept me active and fit. To my parents’ frustration, I refused to accept the Mercedes-Benz Cabriolet they’d bought me as a reward for earning my PhD. Maybe if it had been a Tesla I’d have been swayed, but, unfortunately, despite me yelling the word “green” from the rooftops since I was fourteen, my parents couldn’t wrap their heads around what that meant.

As far as they were concerned, every young woman would love to drive around in a luxury convertible. Plus, the Mercedes had an “eco” stop/start button so why wasn’t that green enough?

I gratefully declined the car and splashed out on an electric hybrid bike when I got the job at Horus. For journeys to the office I used the bike at full power, so I didn’t arrive sweaty and out of breath. Today, however, as I rode the six and a half miles north to Chelsea, I reduced the power, meaning it took me the normal forty minutes to get there.

The truth was I was dragging the ride out, reluctant to step inside Lights Out. For the past few days, I’d lied to Jackson and my colleagues, and it was not fun. Jackson had informed our small team about the dinner date with Fairchild and how the big boss waxed lyrical over Rhys Morgan. Thankfully, only one guy on the team knew anything about boxing and recognized Rhys’s name, and even then, he wasn’t a fanboy.

However, they all wanted to know how Rhys and I met, a subject that didn’t come up at dinner because Fairchild had monopolized the conversation. Prepared for those kinds of inevitable questions, first I’d googled Rhys and then I’d learned as much as I could about his career.

He’d been a heavyweight fighter. A champion. From my research I’d discovered there were four major professional boxing organizations that held bouts. The International Boxing Federation, the World Boxing Association, the World Boxing Council, and the World Boxing Organization.

When Rhys was twenty-eight years old, he became the WBC heavyweight champion. Some other guy was the heavyweight champion that year for all three other associations, so I wasn’t sure how that worked. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how any of it worked. However, I was smart enough to realize that Rhys Morgan had been an awesome boxer. It was a mystery to me why he’d retired at thirty-one, until I’d found an interview Rhys had given explaining how he’d lost his passion for boxing after his father died.