It was hard to focus on work with Kage occupying my every waking thought. Damn him for ruining my excitement for the event. I moved through the hotel’s crowded spaces like a zombie with a camera and hoped nobody would speak to me unless I chose to speak to them first. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk. Just let me get enough content for next week’s blog posts and get the hell out of there.

The worst part is that I had no idea where I’d go. If Kage and I were really going to split up, I needed to collect my things from the apartment, and then what? I really didn’t want to go back to Georgia. That felt like a death sentence.

I managed to keep my mind clear enough to ask a few questions at Friday night’s press conference, which was held in the hotel, but I was more than relieved when it was over and I could head up to my room and breathe. I just wanted to lie down in my bed and worry. God, I was pathetic.

I shouldered my camera and pushed my way through the crowd that seemed to grab at me like human quicksand. I was getting claustrophobic.

When I finally reached the exit, Anthony Rodriguez stood in the doorway, blocking my passage out. I had seen him lurking around, talking to reporters and bloggers, doing early promo for the upcoming fight. Kage had declined to do any live promo this time around because of the responsibilities of his new business, but Anthony seemed more than willing to make the rounds. I had avoided getting anywhere near him so far, but now here he was. Forcing me to interact with him. The way his eyes met mine and held, I had no illusions that this was an accidental meeting.

His dark hair was slicked back, and his natural deep tan contrasted with the white dress shirt he wore open to the third button, revealing the beginnings of an impressive nest of black chest hair. His bio said he was born in Spain but raised in America, the only son of a successful businessman and a fashion model. I hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to google photos of his parents, and my suspicion was confirmed. Both of his parents were out-of-this-world gorgeous. Anthony wore the same neat beard as his father, who had also passed along his six-foot-one stature and perfect body proportions to his only son, but the warm brown eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips had definitely come from his mother. In other words, Anthony Rodriguez was not at all hard to look at.

He was also Kage’s upcoming opponent.

I took a deep breath and prepared for the worst, because as handsome as he was, the guy was intimidating as hell. His kicks were the stuff legends were made of, and he had knockout power with his fists and elbows. As if that weren’t enough, the lethal striker was just as dangerous on the ground as he was on his feet. He was a good match-up for Kage— a scary one, really— because their skill sets were so similar. Fighters who were known for their superior striking rarely had high-level jiu-jitsu skills to match, so when two of these unusual athletes met in the Octagon, you could pretty much bet it was going to be a bloodbath. No doubt this would be the most challenging fight either Kage or Rodriguez had ever faced.

I was so damn wrung out, and I just wanted to get to my room without an altercation. There was a lot of testosterone flying around at these UFC events, and if any one of the fighters had reason to give me a hard time at this particular point in time, it was this one.

“Baby Kage,” Anthony said under his breath as I approached, just loud enough for me to hear. The Spanish accent of his parents was barely detectable, but I had noticed it a few times in the way the occasional R rolled off of his tongue.

“Cute.” I smirked at him, cursing the tell-tale irritation that I was certain showed on my face. “You can just call me Jamie.”

He didn’t move, even when I had to stop to keep from walking into him. I raised my gaze from his chest to his dark brown eyes that bored into mine as he leaned a hand casually on the door frame, making it clear that he wasn’t quite ready to let me pass. “So you and the Machine are living together, huh? I saw it on Twitter.”

“Fucking Twitter,” I growled. “Nobody can have any privacy anymore.”

Anthony surprised me by laughing. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and suddenly he didn’t look so intimidating. “You’re a celebrity now, kid. You signed on the dotted line. What did you expect?”

“You make it sound like I sold my soul to the devil or something.”

“Didn’t you?” At my awkward silence, he continued. “I know I did. This business is the devil.”

I was thinking more along the lines of Kage being the devil in my case, but I didn’t say so. Instead, I said, “It was nice chatting with you, but I really need to get to my room.”

“Chatting with me?” Anthony didn’t move, but his smile broadened. “But you didn’t ask me any questions. Isn’t that your job, to ask questions? You asked that human blanket Mark Felder a couple, and the girl fighters. I feel a little cheated. Do you not find me interesting enough for your blog?”

“Of course I find you interesting,” I said. “I find all fighters interesting, but that doesn’t mean I interview all of them. I’ve never interviewed Michael Kage, either.” It still felt funny calling him that, but I had to be careful to maintain a professional distance when I was in this world.

“I noticed that,” Anthony said. “But then you probably know everything there is to know about him. You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know that you’re of Spanish descent and that you train at Ludwig’s gym in south Florida. I know your record is 10-2, you’re a decorated kickboxer, and you earned your jiu-jitsu blackbelt under the Gracies.”

“Wrong. I recently left Ludwig’s and moved to Vegas to train with the Alphas.” He wagged his eyebrows. “That makes us neighbors.”

“I’ll make a note of that,” I told him, tugging nervously at my camera strap where it dug into my shoulder.

“Hey, not to be rude, but you really don’t seem like a real reporter. I feel like maybe there’s a conflict of interest going on here. Like maybe you’re favoring Kage over me. Is that what they taught you in your journalism classes, or do you even have a degree? Some people think you just got involved in reporting MMA news just to try to give your boyfriend a media advantage.”

“Of course not,” I said. “This is my job. I went to school for it, and I earned it. It has absolutely nothing to do with Kage.”

Anthony shrugged. “Sure seems like it. You’re not interested in interviewing the number two Welterweight contender? MMA Daily just asked me for a video interview, and I turned them down.”

“Why did you do that? They’re huge.”

“They wanted an exclusive, and I thought it would be interesting to be interviewed by you. I couldn’t do both.”

I frowned. “So you chose me? Why? I’m nobody.”

He grinned. “You’re my opponent’s boyfriend. I could really use some dramatic press, and that’s pure drama right there. How much do you want to bet it goes viral? Think about what that would mean. I guarantee it would help you just as much as it would help me.”

The guy had a point. Interviewing Kage’s opponent before their fight would cause a lot of drama, and people loved drama. Social media would be ravenous for it.

Anthony must have seen the change on my face the moment I began to consider his proposition, because he gave me a smug wink. “Meet me in my room tomorrow?”

I sighed. “Sure, why not?”

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Give me your number, and I’ll text you the room number and time.” He tapped in the digits as I rattled them off, and then he slipped his phone back into his pocket and stepped aside to let me pass. “Thanks, Jamie. And don’t worry. This is a brilliant idea.”

I waved to him over my shoulder without looking back as I made my way to the elevators, wondering what kind of shit storm Anthony and I were about to start. Regardless of whether or not our video went viral, Kage was certainly not going to be thrilled. But this was journalism, dammit, and I couldn’t allow Kage to dictate my future. Especially one who was in the process of trying to break up with me. I was an adult now, and I had a career to build, and Kage might not be in the picture much longer.

It was hard to drag myself out of bed the next morning. My mind had kept me up worrying all night just like I had known it would, and the last thing I remembered was crying into my pillow. I felt like I’d gotten no sleep at all. A quick glance in the bathroom mirror revealed a face I didn’t want to claim, with pale skin, puffy eyes, and hideous dark circles. I took a long shower, and that helped some.

After my shower, I had a text message waiting. My heart jumped when I saw the notification because my first thought that maybe Kage had come to his senses and was texting to apologize and beg me back. Instead, it was Anthony Rodriguez. He wanted me to meet him in his room at noon for a room service lunch and interview.

Room service. My stomach growled.

I ordered breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and strong coffee with a shot of espresso. It tasted like nothing, but I forced myself to eat half of it. The coffee was the only thing I finished because I needed the caffeine kick in the ass to get me going.

At noon, Anthony Rodriguez opened his hotel door to me wearing nothing but a pair of jogging shorts and a smile. I tried to keep my eyes trained on his handsome face, but that dark expanse of exposed skin was like a magnet to my gaze. Shit. Couldn’t he have put some damn clothes on?

It didn’t help that his physique was similar to Kage’s. Thick shoulders, rock hard pecs, and perfect abdominals that could have been chiseled from stone. I had to admit the guy was a work of art, but I did wish he’d throw a shirt over that body.

He invited me in, and I took a seat on the small sofa pushed against one wall. It wasn’t a fancy room, not like the one I’d reserved on Kage’s credit card, and it was small. Too small for his presence as he moved around the space to tidy up the clothes he’d discarded the night before.

“Sorry. I fell back to sleep after I texted you, and I haven’t been up long. This place is a wreck.”

“It’s not that bad,” I said. “Mine doesn’t look any better.”

He grinned sheepishly and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Yeah, but you didn’t invite somebody to come into yours. I should have straightened this up before you got here. You don’t think I’m unprofessional, do you?”

I laughed. “You’re a fighter, not a housekeeper. Cleanliness is not a prerequisite for a UFC contract.”

“True.” He came to stand directly in front of me, and I had to look up to see his face. “Where do you want me?”

“Ummm…” I looked around the room. There was a bed, the sofa I was sitting on, and a tiny table and wood-framed chair in the corner. The chair looked more like a torture device than seating, and I didn’t think I wanted Anthony sitting on the bed while we talked. That just left the sofa, which was really more like a love seat. “You can just sit with me. There’s not much room, but I think we can manage.”

He dropped down beside me with a smile, and it struck me that he had a really gorgeous smile. It was probably his best feature, and that was saying a lot considering all of the other things he had going for him: the muscles, the perfect bone structure, the exotic dark coloring, and the warm brown eyes. I tried to imagine him and Kage in the Octagon together and shivered. It would be MMA softcore porn.

“So are we on or off the record?” he asked. “Are you gonna be putting everything I say in your article, or can we just talk for a minute?”

Talk? Off the record? What did we have to talk about?

“I won’t publish anything you don’t want to share, if that’s what you mean. This isn’t a police interrogation. It’s me trying to get news to MMA fans while helping you out, too. Like marketing for yourself. I’m not some hard-nosed reporter trying to dig up gossip on you.”

He relaxed visibly and nodded. “Okay, I know you’re the Machine’s boyfriend, but I wanted to ask for some advice. Is that weird?”

“Depends on what kind of advice you want.”

“Well, I’ve seen what you did for Kage. I read up on you and did a little digging on the internet. And Twitter.” He nudged my arm playfully. “I know how you feel about Twitter.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Yeah, Twitter has caused me more problems than I care to think about.” I thought of the night my Twitter exploration had led to Kage choking me out and then having a PTSD attack. But then I realized that if I hadn’t been cruising Twitter that night, Kage might never have come to terms with what had happened to Evan, so maybe it hadn’t been so bad after all.

“I like Twitter,” Anthony said. “I can interact with fans, and I don’t have to say a whole lot.”

“So you’re not a social butterfly, I take it?”

“No. I don’t do well with that kind of thing. Talking to people like we’re best friends or something. I’d just rather say my piece and get out of there.”

“Do you get a lot of haters? I don’t mean to imply that you’re not popular, I’m just curious. I’ve had my share of haters, and they come out in droves to attack Kage.”

Anthony shrugged. “I guess everybody has haters. They’re everywhere. I don’t let it get to me if some stranger doesn’t like me. They don’t know me.”

“That’s a healthy attitude to have.”

“My mother is a model, and my father is a successful international businessman. I don’t say that to brag. I just grew up with a little more attention on me, so I learned to ignore it at an early age.”

“That’s good that you don’t let it get to you.”

“What I wanted to talk you about is what you did for Kage. He was doing that underground fighting thing, but as far as the general public was concerned, he was nobody. Then he met you, and things changed for him. You were his publicist, right?”

I laughed. “We use that term loosely. I was a college student, and he brought me out to Vegas to be his intern. I’m afraid I didn’t do a great job. I made him a website, which in retrospect was pretty crappy. But I took pictures of him and posted a little on social media. I honestly didn’t know anything about social media then beyond cat memes and drunken bar selfies. I was so clueless.”

“So he hired you because he wanted to sleep with you, huh?”

“What?” I couldn’t hide my shock at his bold question.

“Sorry. I say what I’m thinking way too much. All I meant was that he hired you even though you had no experience, and then you two ended up together. I just connected the dots.”

There wasn’t much I could say to that, because Rodriguez had hit the nail on the head. But it made me uncomfortable, so I changed the subject.

“So what was it you wanted to ask me?”

“Well, I don’t get a whole lot of media coverage. I told you I have a hard time interacting beyond an occasional tweet. I want to know what I could do to get what Kage has got. I know he doesn’t do many interviews, and he’s been pretty absent for the last few months, but people are still talking about him. His old pics still get tons of hits. He has more fans and more haters than I do.”

“Well, for starters, I don’t get why you gave up the opportunity for that exclusive interview with MMA Daily. They have a huge reach. That could have been a big break for you.”

“Maybe. But I wanted to talk to you. I told you that.”

“I’m not following your logic. Besides the sensationalism of being interviewed by Michael Kage’s boyfriend, which may not even be relevant anymore, I don’t see where I offer any advantage.”

“May not even be relevant anymore?”

Oh my God, why had I said that? And of course, he picked right up on it. “I just mean you never know what the future holds. Hanging your hopes on that one small detail is a risk.” There. Did that sound even remotely legit? I couldn’t tell.

“So the blush has left the rose?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s something my mother likes to say. It means the new has worn off of your relationship and things aren’t working out.”

“Oh. Well, maybe. But we have no reason to talk about my personal life. I’m the interviewer, not the interviewee.”

“I thought we were still off the record. Just two guys getting to know each other.”

I shifted in my seat, suddenly very uncomfortable where the conversation was headed. “We’d better be off the record, because if you lured me to your room just to get something you can use against me for publicity, I’m going to be very pissed.”

“That would be pretty shitty of me,” he said, pulling his knee up onto the sofa and facing me head on.

“You haven’t denied it, though.”

He ran a hand absently down his ripped torso. It wasn’t a calculated move because he didn’t even seem to notice he’d done it. I thought he probably did that a lot when he was deep in thought.

“You’re way off base.” His fingers lingered in the hair on his chest and scrubbed lightly as he stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. “What if I told you something personal about me? Would you chill the fuck out then?”

I gaped at him. “Do you ever censor what you say?”

“No. I told you I say what I’m thinking.”

“Yeah, not the most endearing quality to have.”

He shrugged. “It’s who I am. I have a hard time putting up a front like everybody else. It takes too much effort, and I’m not good at it.”

“So you’re obnoxious because you’re lazy?”

“Obnoxious?” He laughed, genuinely surprised by my assessment of him. “I don’t think I’m obnoxious. Maybe you just don’t feel comfortable with people who say what they mean.”

Damn. He might have had a point. Was that really how I was?

“I’ll bet you lie a hundred times a day.” There was no accusation in his tone or his expression. “You sit behind your computer and type out what you think people want to hear, just like everybody else. I’m just saying I have a hard time doing that—trying to figure out who people want me to be.”

I raised my eyebrows, surprised at how honest he was being with me. I really couldn’t think of anything to say, so I just sat there staring at him.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said. “If I tell you something personal about me will you calm down and quit thinking I’m some sort of gossip spy?”

I took a deep breath and let it out, feeling instantly more at ease. “Okay, fine. Tell me something.”

“Sometimes I wear the same pair of socks two days in a row.” At my unimpressed smirk, he added, “I’m also gay.”

I blinked like a bewildered owl, because of all the things I could have imagined him confessing, being gay was not one of them.

“Did you ask me for this interview so that I could out you?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you think you should?”

“Jesus, Anthony. It’s your life. I can’t make that decision for you.”

“Well, I trust your opinion. You helped Kage, so help me.”

“But you’re his upcoming opponent.”

“And you said you were professional, so that shouldn’t matter.”

Shit. He had me there.

“All right, tell me what your end goal is. What is it that Anthony Rodriguez wants?”

“Fame. Money. The truth is, my parents disowned me last year when they found out I’m gay. They were worried it might tarnish their reputations. I’m used to a certain lifestyle, and now I’m cut out. Fuck, I don’t even know how I’m going to pay my rent next month. I need some big money fights. This one with Kage is pretty big, but even though he’s ranked lower than me, he’s the draw. I need some attention, and I need some fucking money.”

“Okay. Well, that’s certainly honest. We can work with that.” Truthfully, I was getting excited thinking about making a difference in a fighter’s life again. How awesome would it be to help skyrocket this guy’s career and know that I was the one who did it? There was a sense of power attached to it that was almost irresistible to me. I remembered back to the feeling I got when I was posting pictures of Kage and helping to build a following for him. That rush I got every time I checked the stats and saw how popular he was getting.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he said. “When I start making money again, I’ll pay you to be my publicist like Kage did.”

“No. Sorry, but I don’t really want to be anyone’s publicist. I’m just not qualified for the job. But maybe I could do a consultation or two with you. We could bounce ideas off of each other and see what sticks. I may not have the skills to be a publicist, but I do have a journalism degree and the knowledge I gained from working with Kage. I also pay attention to the business and do a lot of research for my blog, so yeah. I can probably help you out.”

“That would be awesome. In the meantime, though, we need to figure out what to do on this interview. I was thinking I could talk about my fighting philosophy. Tell about my parents disowning me. I know they don’t want me saying anything about them, but I figure it serves them right for turning their backs on me. It would be a good sob story, too. Don’t people like sob stories?”

“For a guy who thinks it’s too much energy to front, you sure do have a lot of ideas about manipulating your public image.”

“Hey, I’m trying to learn. What ideas do you have for me? Maybe you could do some sexy pictures of me like you did Kage. It seemed to work for him.”

“Well, I don’t know—”

“I’m as sexy as him, right? I’ve got a hot body.”

At the mention of his hot body, my gaze dropped to his abs, and again I found myself wishing he would put on some damn clothes. “Yes, you are very good-looking.”

He laughed. “That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement. Do you think I’ve got what it takes, or not? Be honest with me.”

“Yes, okay? You’re hot. Are you happy now?”

He did that maddening thing with his hand again, rubbing up and down his torso as he grinned triumphantly at me. “Thought so.”

“You’re also cocky. Probably to a fault.”

He shrugged, unconcerned with that particular observation. When he’d said he didn’t care what people thought about him, I had mistakenly thought he meant it like most everyone else did—the ones who said they didn’t care but then set about trying to fix themselves to suit popular opinion. That didn’t seem to be the case with Anthony.

He was also single-minded and bullish, constantly steering the conversation in the direction he wanted to take it. “So we can get some pics, right? For the interview?”

I held up my camera. “I didn’t bring this thing for nothing, although I had imagined taking a very different kind of photo than what you’re talking about. And I had imagined you wearing more clothing.”

“Fighters are always shirtless in their pics. They wear their shorts and nothing else. I’m wearing shorts.”

“I know, but—” I almost admitted that he seemed more naked than most in a pair of shorts, but that sounded all kinds of wrong. He had me off balance and had kept me that way since I walked through the door. Actually, since the night before when he’d first struck up a conversation.

I didn’t have enough experience to deal with interviewing someone with such a strong personality. It was too hard to maintain my professional dignity when it seemed like I was constantly either defending myself or trying not to stare at his abs. I could refuse to continue the interview, but he did have a good point about the possibility of my blog post going viral. Who wouldn’t be interested in Michael Kage’s boyfriend interviewing his upcoming opponent? It would definitely get tongues wagging.

There was also the possibility that it would make Kage jealous, and I would have been lying if I’d said that didn’t hold a lot of appeal for me. Kage didn’t seem to have much interest in continuing our relationship. He had other things to worry about now, and I didn’t want to play the part of the poor jilted lover. I needed to retain some of the power in our screwed up dynamic, and at the moment I couldn’t think of a better way to do it than showing him that I was moving on and thriving. And spending time with hot guys.

So I interviewed Anthony Rodriguez. We worked up our angles for the story together. The title of the piece would be Anthony Rodriguez: The Naked Truth. It was fitting, considering his habit of saying whatever came to his mind—and the fact that we were going to feature some pretty racy pictures of him wearing very little.

We decided he would officially come out as gay in the interview. Once I’d gotten over my initial trepidation, I realized that any blogger with sense would have been salivating over the chance to get an exclusive on a fighter coming out as gay. It was big news, and I was going to be the one to break it. I tried to play it off to Anthony as no big deal, but inside I was doing a happy dance and fantasizing about all of the attention we were going to get when the story broke.

I wasn’t sure what kind of effect his coming out would have on his career, but it hadn’t seemed to hurt Kage much. There would always be haters, but overall the press had been positive. Even with Kage not being as much in the public eye since he took over the Alcazar, he was still big news online, and I had no doubt this fight would stir up interest for him again in a big way. Now I was working behind the scenes with Rodriguez to make sure he got his fair share of that attention.

I reasoned that skyrocketing the public interest for Rodriguez would also benefit Kage. Imagine all of the people dying to see a fight between two gorgeous, well-known fighters who had both come out as gay. I couldn’t wait to see it all unfold.

In addition to Anthony’s coming-out announcement, we decided to share the fact that he was born into a wealthy family and that his famous parents had now disowned him for being gay. He talked about his fighting style and his career path, his training, the physical challenges he had faced, and his past fights, but we both knew all of this was just window dressing for the real story.

We decided to keep everything under wraps until I figured out how and when to release the interview for maximum exposure and hype.

When we had finished working out the details of the written piece, we moved on to the photos. I set up my tripod and camera while Anthony dressed in workout clothes, hand wraps, and gloves. Then we proceeded to unveil him bit by bit in a photo story that would no doubt have its own Tumblr address within an hour of being published. By the last set of shots, Anthony had wet hair and was lounging on the bed in nothing but a white hotel towel.

“Turn over on your stomach,” I said. “Let’s get some more ass shots. People really seemed to go for the ones I took of Kage.”

Anthony rolled over, pulling his towel off in the process, and ended up completely naked. He tossed the towel to the floor and looked up at me where I stood with my mouth hanging open.

“What?” he asked, and innocent little half smile tilting his full lips.

“You’re naked.”

“Yeah. Isn’t the interview called The Naked Truth? We need to back that shit up with some honest-to-God nudity.”

I opened my mouth to retort and ended up closing again. Dammit, the guy was right. Again. What good was a piece designed to get media attention if we didn’t stick to the theme? It only made sense to have at least one nude. Otherwise the title was just clickbait.

“Okay, you’re right. I love the idea. I’m just not used to photographing naked men, so I freaked out a little.”

“I get it. It’s not that easy taking my clothes off for you, either, but I figure we need to go big or go home.”

I didn’t believe for a minute that getting naked in front of me was any kind of hardship for him. He’d already shown me everything he had except his dick, and I suspected that before it was all over I’d be seeing that, too. And if his dick was anything like his ego, he was hung like a horse.

I had another moment of panic, because what the hell was I doing? I wasn’t a porn photographer. I was an MMA blogger.

An MMA blogger who’s taking naked photos of his boyfriend’s opponent.

But then I thought of Kage breaking up with me, and that was all it took for me to embrace the stupidity. I settled in behind my camera and shot a series of photos that would undoubtedly end up in spank banks all over the world.

“Let’s take a pic of us together.” He rolled halfway onto his side, bending his knee so that it was the only thing protecting me from a gratuitous eyeful of dick. “That would be cool, right? The interviewer and the interviewee.” He grinned.

I came out from behind my camera and glared at the smug fucker. How dare he suggest something like that? I wondered if what he was doing could be considered sexual harassment. It was certainly making me feel uncomfortable. “I’m not taking a picture with you naked and me fully clothed. That would be wildly inappropriate. Besides, it would end up on some fetish site somewhere.”

He laughed. “I didn’t mean like that. I meant with both of us decent. Keep it professional, Jamie. I’m not that easy.” He winked.

Great. Now it seemed like I was harassing him.

“Sorry. I feel like an ass.”

“Give me a minute to get dressed, and we’ll get a professional picture of us.” He pushed up easily off the bed, and…

Yep, there it was. The dick shot I knew was coming. I looked away and busied myself with checking my phone. Tons of social media notifications. Three texts from Steve. No texts from Kage. I sighed and slid my phone back into my pocket without reading any of it.

When Anthony was finally presentable in a T-shirt and shorts, I set up a shot of the two of us sitting on the sofa looking at each other with serious expressions, as if we were in the middle of the interview rather than tying up loose ends afterward. And in fact, this hadn’t felt much like an interview at all. It had felt like plotting.

“You know, you should start doing video interviews,” Anthony suggested.

“I would need a small crew for that. I plan to hire some people soon, but for now written interviews with photos is about all I can handle.”

“Let me know when you do, and we’ll get together again. Or hell, even before then. You have my number.”

“I do.” I waggled my cell phone at him.

“Oh, hey, that reminds me,” he said, retrieving his phone from the bedside table. “You’ve got all kinds of pictures, but I have none. Let me get a selfie of us.”

I hesitated, considering his request, but I couldn’t think of any reason not to do it. “Sure. Come on.” I patted the seat beside me, and he plopped down nearly on top of me. His hip was jammed against mine, and when he threw an arm around my shoulders, our entire sides were mashed together, and I was stuck in his armpit. I was grateful that at least he wasn’t naked anymore.

“Smile,” he said. We leaned our heads together in the requisite selfie pose, and he clicked the button. “Now stick your tongue out.”

“What are we, in high school?”

He frowned into the camera. “Just do it.”

“Fine.” We both hung our tongues out, and he took the picture.

“Now show me that pretty smile.”

“Pretty smile? Are you trying to take a picture or ask me to the prom?”

His eyebrows flew up. “You know, you’re a terrible selfie partner. At least pretend you don’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Then smile.”

After Anthony tortured me through another few selfies, I packed up and made my escape. Back in my room, I flung myself onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Now that I didn’t have anything to occupy my mind, my thoughts went to Kage again. I wondered what he was doing. Was he working in the Alcazar? Training with Marco? Plotting bad guy stuff with Theo? Was he missing me at all?

I dreaded going home, but at the same time, it’s all I wanted to do. Kage and I needed to work things out properly because this state of relationship limbo he had me floating in wasn’t going to cut it. Either we were going to be together, or we weren’t. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing him, but the not knowing was even worse. It made me feel like a chump. Like he was just stringing me along. If we were committed to each other, then maybe I could give in and do what he wanted. We had been apart before. If he could promise me beyond a shadow of a doubt that we would be together when the two years were up and he could finally sell the properties he had inherited, then I could wait for him. I loved him that much. I could immerse myself in work and build my business up.

But going without sex for eighteen months or so would be a challenge for both of us. I was less worried about me than Kage. I knew I could last if I had him to look forward to at the end, but what about him? I liked to think that he was strong and that love would prevail, but what if he couldn’t make it? And it wasn’t just about sex. It was about love and connection. What if he fell for someone else? What if I waited all that time and then found out at the end that he wasn’t mine anymore?

I sat up and growled into the silent hotel room. I had planned to attend the fight in the evening and then catch my flight out in the morning, but I couldn’t wait that long. I was angry and frustrated, and all I wanted to do was find Kage and work things out. All that blustering I had done before I left meant nothing now. I made the decision to do whatever he wanted because he was mine, and I couldn’t imagine a future with anyone else.

I called the airline and changed my flight to the earliest one I could get. I was going home.