Still, I followed my curiosity to the bathroom Fairchild had directed Rhys to and waited outside for him. As soon as he opened the door, I blocked his path.

He sighed just before his expression shut down.

Uh-uh.

Answers were needed.

“The whole reason I agreed to this deception was because Fairchild was interested in Rhys the Widowmaker.”

“Don’t call me that,” he snapped.

And not snapping in that playful, antagonistic banter thing way we had going. This time he meant it.

What had happened here?

Sympathy softened my tone. “Rhys, if there’s a reason you find it difficult to talk about your boxing days, maybe we shouldn’t do this. I don’t want to put you in that position. Especially not with someone like Fairchild.”

He lifted his chin, his features taut. “I’m fine. There’s nothing to see here.”

“I disagree.” I gave his arm a squeeze, and he tensed at the gesture. Feeling awkward for touching him when he hadn’t invited it, I took a step back. “Something is going on with you. Is it… about your dad? Does your retirement remind you of why… of him?”

With an exasperated sigh, he stepped out into the hall. “He’s not the real reason I quit. Someone died. It wasn’t one of my matches, but I knew the guy, and it was a wake-up call. No sport is worth leaving your little brother behind with no fucking family to speak of. My career didn’t end the way I thought it would. That’s it. But”—he pushed into my personal space and I felt warm tingles between my thighs—“I can do this. There’s no getting out of this contract, Tinker Bell, so forget about it.”

He was deflecting, and I was going to let him. There was more to his story, I knew it, but I was also aware that I didn’t have his trust yet. That was fine. I could deal with that. It wasn’t as though I trusted him completely. Or that we were even about sharing personal information. Rhys wanted to keep this all business—why should I argue?

“I wasn’t attempting to get out of the contract. Unfortunately, I need you.” I made a face. “As soon as you left, Fairchild spotted a pair of breasts across the yacht he fancied more.”

Rhys snorted and slipped his hand into mine. “Then let’s go find him and show him how wrong he is.”

A spark of awareness shot up my arm. He had big, strong hands with calluses on his palms. I’d never dated a man with calluses before. They were surprisingly appealing.

Not that we were dating.

Needing to distract myself from whatever was happening to my body, I blurted out, “Did you know super yachts are bad for the environment?”

Rhys shot me an amused look. “There’s a surprise.”