“That’s right, you’re a big deal in the boxing world,” Libby crooned.
“Yeah,” he answered, feeling like the bloody opposite of a big deal.
“There’s no reason to fret about your upcoming fight,” Madelyn began. “We’ve considered everything and found a lovely home for you to rent in Rickety Rock that can accommodate the equipment you need to train. My people are preparing your lodgings as we speak.”
She had to be kidding!
This fight was his make-or-break moment to prove he was still the best. He didn’t have a second to waste, and he certainly didn’t have time to run around the mountains with a donkey in tow.
His mobile chimed an incoming text, and it dawned on him that he had another problem. “What about the media? The little misunderstanding between myself and Libby must be streaming on social media by now.”
“We can address that. Come in, gentlemen,” Madelyn called.
The door opened, and bloody Briggs and Augie sauntered in.
“Aug?” he said, staring at the man.
“Who are these people?” Libby asked.
“Augie Bimston and Briggs Keaton. They work for me,” he answered as the men nodded to Libby.
“This is Libby Lamb,” he said. “She’s…”
Where the hell did he even start?
“Oh, we know, lad,” Augie answered as he shook Libby’s hand.
“I hope you don’t mind, Erasmus. I contacted your trainer and your agent,” Madelyn said, then addressed the new arrivals. “Erasmus is concerned about his championship fight and how tonight’s turn of events may impact his image and standing in the boxing world. Maybe you could shed some light on how we can address his concerns.”
Briggs puffed up. “The video of you and Miss Lamb is everywhere. The whole boxing world has seen it. Honestly, anyone with a mobile has probably seen it. But don’t you worry, mate. I took care of the media for you.”
Bloody hell.
“And how did you do that, mate?” Raz pressed, his voice a low rumble.
Briggs smoothed his sports coat. “I explained to the press that what they witnessed was simply part of your training.”
“My training? Did your mum drop you on your head when you were a baby? We got handcuffed and arrested,” he shot back.
“Look,” Briggs continued, holding out his phone.
Raz glared at the screen.
In the dim glow of the streetlamp, he sprinted and turned on a dime, snatching up vibrators as Libby launched them haphazardly at him.
“We’re calling Libby your spiritual advisor,” the agent gushed with a dumb grin plastered on his face.
“His what?” Libby exclaimed.
Raz shook his head. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Not at all. I made it up on the spot,” the sports agent answered, looking pleased as punch.
“Aug, this is for real?” Raz asked, searching his trainer’s face.
Aug sighed. “Briggsy here did most of the talking. But yes, we told the press what they’d witnessed was a facet of your training, and the arrest was an exercise in handling stress.”
“A yoga teacher hurling sex toys at me is a facet of a professional boxer’s training?” he replied, incredulity coating the words.
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Listen, mate,” Aug said, pointing at him with his toothpick. “You’d be smart to put on a smile and be right chuffed about this. It was that or take the chance that the press would peg you and Miss Lamb as bloody perverts.”
Shit! Was Aug right? Had he and Libby been backed into a corner?
“Fortunately, the audio on every recording of the event we’ve seen is garbled. It’s hard to make out much besides Ms. Lamb demonstrating rage yoga with that bloodcurdling scream and the words chi, plum, and beefcake. That bit of luck allowed me to inform the media that what they’d witnessed was a new, cutting edge, unorthodox training method, carefully crafted to make you ready for anything at any time, any place.” Briggs paused dramatically, then lowered his voice. “As vigilant as he is powerful, the Lion is always ready to pounce. An agile powerhouse, the British Beast doesn’t win. He dominates. He obliterates.”
Everyone stared at Briggs, who now assumed the role of the room’s chief lunatic.
Raz scrubbed his hands down his face. “That’s what you said?”
“Yeah, and it’s everywhere,” Briggs answered, his eyes glittering. “Word is, Silas Scott’s people are getting nervous. That’s what we want, champ.”
Did people actually believe this?
“Aug, you’re on board with this?” he pressed.
“Briggs threw that bucket of bullshit at the media, and they gobbled it up. I nodded along, but there might be something to it, lad.”
“To training me with plastic cocks?”
“To keep your reputation intact and to bidding bloody farewell to the wobbly git who’s got a fight in sixty days. Watch the video, Raz. I timed it. You cut two seconds off your sprints chasing those plastic cocks,” his trainer replied, tapping Briggs’s mobile as he spoke.
“And that’s where you come in, Libby. We need you to agree to this,” Briggs added.
Libby scoffed. “You’re serious? You want me to be his spiritual advisor and his son’s nanny?”
“We do,” the agent agreed. “There’s no wiggle room. You either agree to the terms, or you’ll be seen as an unhinged sex maniac obsessed with Erasmus Cress. That’s the contingency plan we’re prepared to go with if you decline the offer. As the agency representing Mr. Cress, I hope you can appreciate the position we’re in. We need you onboard, Libby.”
Briggsy, you little wanker!
He didn’t give two shits about what Briggs and the agency needed. The drive to protect his plum yoga nutter superseded his concern over his career. He gripped the collar of his agent’s pricy button-up and got in the man’s face. “You’re not messing with her life like that. I will not allow it.”
“Her reputation is on the line, too, Raz,” Briggs squeaked. “And the agency doesn’t want to ruin her life. We want to improve it.”
“How?” he growled when something warm touched his arm. He looked away from Briggs, the sod, and stared into a pair of amber eyes that took his breath away.
“I have a few questions I’d like to ask your agent. Don’t pummel him yet,” Libby said gently.
And like magic, the anger tearing through him dissolved with her touch. He released the man and took a step back.
“Save that energy for the fight, yeah, mate?” Briggs blathered through a nervous laugh as he adjusted his jacket.
Libby pinned the agent with her amber gaze. “How do you know I’m qualified to be a spiritual trainer? How do you know anything about me at all?” she challenged.
Briggs shot him a glance, probably making sure he wasn’t going to throw a right hook in his direction, then returned his focus to Libby. “Excellent question! We’ve done a full background check.”
Her posture stiffened. “When?”
Briggs cleared his throat. “Somewhere between you throwing the third or fourth vibrator at Raz, I asked the yoga people who you were. The owner gave me your name, and my team went to work. Oh, and I almost forgot. The owner of the yoga studio asked me to relay a message.”