His dad heads my way and sits on my other side. “He’s doing well. He always bounces back quickly, don’t worry.” He pats my thigh, and I frown.
“The championship title . . . he still stands a chance?” I ask. It’s something Nikko has been worried about. His entire life is about boxing and getting that title, and his drive for it is sexy as hell.
“If he fights number two, then he still stands a chance. We planned to have him slowly work up to it, but I think we need to skip that and have him challenge him sooner rather than later,” his dad replies. “It’s going to mean lots of psychological tactics and training, but I think hecan do it. He’ll need your support as well to stick to his regiment and meal plan.”
“Of course,” I answer as I watch him take a little break and then get right back to it. He’s determined to win that title, and I’ll do whatever it takes to support him. I would buy it for him, but he wants to earn it. I respect that, so even though I can’t do much, I’ll be here as much as he needs.
“Maybe I could set up an office here,” I muse.
“You’ll probably need to,” his dad scoffs. “I don’t think he’ll let you out of his sight.” He nods at Nikko as I see him glance at me, even though he’s fighting.
I smile, and Yuki laughs at my side. I guess we are both protective of each other.
There’s a commotion that draws my eyes, and I see a group of girls entering the gym. They freeze just outside of the mats, looking around, wide-eyed.
“Who are they?” I ask Nikko’s dad.
“From the college. They go to school with Nikko. He has that study group after training, remember?” I recall him telling me, but still.
I glance at Nikko, but he’s oblivious as he throws a few punches and dances around his opponent. I know his arm will twinge later, though, so I make a note to get that masseuse to come back. She’s sixty, which is the only reason I even let her touch him, and besides, it helps.
My gaze swings to the twittering girls, and I glare as they wave and giggle, watching Nikko move around shirtless in the ring, his muscles on display.
“He should wear a shirt,” I tell his father.
“Not while he’s boxing,” he rejects.
Grumbling, I keep my eye on them as his dad gets up to correct him. Leaning into Yuki, I have an evil idea. “I need your help.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Tonight, I want . . .”
It’s all in place. Nikko is sulking because I left early and let him finish practice and his study group. He keeps blowing up my phone, demanding to know where I am.
Leaning forward between the seats with a vicious smirk, I wait. “Are you sure?” Yuki sighs.
“Absolutely. It shouldn’t be long,” I reply.
As if right on cue, Nikko storms from his apartment, heading to his bike. He looks furious as he calls me again. My smirk is cruel as the lights on the two vans turn on and my men surge out. He doesn’t know what hits him as they grab him. He manages to knock at least five of my men out, and I watch him struggle between them, yelling as they tie his hands and feet together and put a bag over his head, then they gently put him in the van.
“I told you we needed more men,” I scold.
“He’s strong. I’ll give him that. He’s going to be pissed,” Yuki remarks.
“No, he won’t.” Leaning back in my seat, I tap his shoulder. “Proceed.”
The engines purr to life, and I wave at his father, who stands at the door. I had to make sure he didn’t try to save his kid. He just shakes his head and waves back as we pull away. It only takes us ten minutes, and I slip from the van and walk to the building. I hear Nikko cursing and swearing as he’s dragged behind me.
“I’ll fucking kill you!” he roars. “My boyfriend will murder you all.”
That makes me grin. I step into the room and hold the door for them. They drag him, writhing and bucking, inside and strap him to the reclined leather chair. When they are done, I nod, and they depart, leaving us alone.
The other part of my plan is waiting outside, but I need to talk to him first. I want him to know exactly what will happen. Taking off my suit jacket, I fold it and lay it on the leather sofa to the left, then I stride across the sparkling tile floor so I can run my hand up his bare leg and shirt.
He yells and tries to twist away from me, so I dig my nails into hischest and drag my hand up until I reach the back. “Let me go right fucking now!” he roars angrily, more furious than I’ve ever seen him.
Grinning, I grip the edges of the bag and pull it off, throwing it away so he can see again.
