Thank goodness.

My shoulders slumped in relief, and I stepped aside to let him in.

Looking drained, Rhys moved into the room, but instead of walking by me, he turned into me, his soulful eyes locked with mine. My breath hitched as he curled his hands around my biceps and slowly backed me up against the door until my body weight closed it. He released one arm to lock us in.

My heart raced as anticipation of yummy physical intimacy filled me.

Instead of ravishing me, however, Rhys cupped my face in his big hands, bent down, and pressed the sweetest, softest kiss to my lips. He let out a little exhalation as he released me, his breath tickling my mouth, before he straightened and wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

I moved into him, slid my arms around his waist, and rested my head on his chest.

“Are you okay?”

Rhys was silent so long, I thought he might not answer.

But then, “I think I’m gonna have to fight.”

Shock rooted me in place, and I stiffened in his hold. “Rhys, please tell me you did not agree to fight?”

“Not yet.”

Oh, thank God. I pulled out of his arms and placed my hands on his chest. He looked down at me, curiosity in his expression, and then surprise when I gently pushed him backward.

He let me.

Of course he let me.

Like I could move a man his size without him letting me.

I backed him up to the bed. “Sit.”

A tired smile quirked his lips. “You got it, boss.”

How could he possibly find anything amusing right now after three hours of interrogative warfare that had clearly worked?

I studied him. We’d only just decided to explore what was between us, so pushing him to confide in me was a big risk. Yet, I knew there had to be more going on if he would agree to fight, despite his deep-seated aversion to it.

For his sake, I had to be brave. I couldn’t be selfish just because I was afraid he’d turn away from me.

“Okay … I don’t know what he said to you in the three very long hours he held you captive”—Rhys raised an eyebrow at my word choice but I pushed on—“but what is going on? Something has to be going on beyond the financial problems of the gym to make you even contemplate this fight. Did Fairchild threaten you?”

“No, but it was implied that your contract would be made permanent if I fight for him.”

I felt my fury boil down deep inside. “I can find another job. He is not manipulating you into this fight.”

He looked momentarily stunned.

Realizing what it said about my feelings—that I’d walk away from a job I loved to save Rhys from Fairchild—I blushed.

Rhys studied me intently, his expression warming by the second. “That means a damn lot to me, Parker. But we started this thing together because of how much your job means to you. I don’t want to see you lose it because of this.”

When I opened my mouth to object, he held up a hand. “There’s more. The fight is worth a lot of money.”

Although I was relieved that Rhys wasn’t lingering over what I’d inadvertently revealed about my feelings for him, I was concerned about what fighting would do to him emotionally. “I asked before and I’ll ask again—is the gym really worth the toll this will take on you? Or am I missing something here? Rhys … what am I missing?”

Rhys’s expression hardened, and he looked away. “It’s nothing, Tink.”

“It’s not nothing. It’s most definitely something. I know you and I are … new … but before the kissing and the very hot touching started … well, Rhys, I’m your friend. Talk to me.”

His lips twitched. “Hot touching, huh?”

I struggled not to smile. “Don’t change the subject.”

He stared at me for a long moment and then sighed, deep and heavy. “I’m going to lose the gym if I don’t start making payments to the bank. I have a guy interested in buying it, and it’s looking more and more likely I’m going to have to sell.”

My stomach dropped. I knew how much the gym meant to him. “Rhys …”

“Before my dad died, he told me the gym was in trouble and that he was behind on his payments for the gym, and that he’d also mishandled my finances. He’d gambled … almost everything was gone.”

Oh my God. All his earnings. Every hit he’d taken in the ring … all for nothing in the end.

I felt a little off-kilter and stumbled toward the nearest armchair. “Oh God, Rhys.”

“I’ve been hiding it from Dean.”

I frowned. “But he’s managing the accounts now, I thought?”

He snorted. “I fucked with him, gave him a shit ton of paperwork to go through, and kept the real accounts—digital accounts—to myself.” Rhys slumped forward, resting his head in his hands as he stared at his feet. “When I started making real money boxing, Mom got sick with cancer. I didn’t want my parents to have that debt, so I paid all her medical bills.”

My heart ached. “Rhys …”

“Dad was renting the building for the gym. I bought it for him. Paid Dean’s tuition. But I also left my dad to handle my finances, and I found out too late it was a mistake. He made a lot of bad investments, gambled … what I had left went to paying Dad’s funeral costs when he died, and I paid off a chunk of the debt to the bank by selling my condo. But now we’re a few months behind on the mortgage …”

Nerves fluttered in my stomach. All this time he’d had this hellish pressure on his shoulders. No wonder he’d jumped at the chance to make friends with someone as powerful as Fairchild.

“Does Fairchild know any of this?”

“Not that I’m aware of but I wouldn’t put it past him to have done a background check into my finances.”

“Manipulative cur. You can’t let him persuade you to do this. Seriously… I hope that man gets eaten by sand snakes.”

Rhys frowned but there was laughter in his words. “Wait a second … is that what you muttered when we first met?”

Uh-oh.

“Maybe. You did accost me just as my boss was arriving so I may or may not have wished for a door to another dimension to open, in which you’d fall through into a world of terrifying sand snakes.”

“Like Beetlejuice?”

I flashed him a quick grin, amazed he could amuse me when I was so goddamn angry at Fairchild. “Yes. But back to the point …

There was a moment of silence between us while I gathered my thoughts on this new information. Finally, I said, “You need to tell Dean.”

“No.” Rhys sat back on the bed, his countenance granite. “No fucking way.”

“I know you’ve been protecting him a long time … but, Rhys, he deserves to know the truth. He’s a grown man now, and keeping this from him, fobbing him off with fake accounting, isn’t protecting him. It’s making him a chump.” I ignored his blistering glare and continued. “Your brother is very smart. Confide in him. Take the pressure off your shoulders. Then maybe the two of you can come up with a plan.”

“I have a plan. I’m going to fight.”

I stood, anger at Fairchild ripping through me. “You are not fighting for that man.” I pointed toward the bedroom door. “He doesn’t get that from you, Rhys. If you fight for him, you know that will mess with your head in more ways than one. Please … before you do anything, please promise that you’ll talk to Dean. And I’m here. I can help … you know I am a problem solver. It’s kind of what I do.”