But Georgia had been convincing, reminding him that having options was only ever a good thing – and gaining a few million followers on Instagram would certainly give him options. Declan knew his competitive streak would win out; he wouldn’t let himself get voted off just to be spared the constant scrutiny. Declan King didn’t lose.
As soon as he’d adjusted to the cold, the SUV stopped in front of the villa. It was smaller than it looked on TV, but he supposed that was probably a trick of the camera angle. It was still a nice house, the giant two-storey glass entryway providing a dramatic focal point for the otherwise traditional Spanish architecture.
The driver nodded and Declan opened the car door, stepping out onto the hot asphalt.
There were cameramen on either side of the driveway, their lenses fixed on him as he collected himself. He kept his chin up,surveying the scene through his sunglasses. Desperately trying to look like he knew what he was doing, he started towards the house. As he got closer, he caught sight of a young producer with curly hair waving him over from beside the garden gate.
‘Hey, Declan,’ she said smoothly, and he recalled that her name was Paige. She pushed a mic set into his hands. ‘Here, clip this to your trunks and put the necklace over your head. They’re finishing up with Niall, then you’ll be next. How are you feeling?’
‘Yeah, good,’ he replied, distracted. He struggled to get the clip secured but finally managed, fiddling with the wiring.
‘Great! One more moment,’ she said, bringing one side of her headset to her ear and listening intently. ‘Ready on my mark.’
A rush of adrenaline hit him all at once, like he was about to enter the ring. He bounced from one leg to the other, trying to dispel the excess energy. He brought one smooth, even breath into his chest and held it there for a beat, and another, letting it out slow and easy. Selling the show was what he’d always excelled at.
‘And… you’re on,’ Paige said. The patio gate swung open and she nudged him forwards, muttering, ‘You’ll see them out by the kitchen.’
He walked around a curtain of greenery and was met with the familiar view of the villa’s spacious garden. A glistening pool sat in the centre of the lawn, with a firepit on one side and an open-air kitchen on the other. Daybeds were sprinkled throughout, and a large couch swing sat under a pergola on the back wall.
‘Hello?’ he called out, wandering down the steps.
‘Another one!’ came an excited voice, and a grinning black man with toned arms and a slight beer belly came bounding over. He threw an arm around Declan, pulling him into a half-hug and leading him to the others.
‘I’m Jack,’ the man said, his arm still around Declan’s shoulders. He gestured towards a man with a sharp nose and a quizzical brow. ‘That’s Callum.’
‘Hi,’ Callum said flatly. Declan couldn’t figure out if he was scowling or if his face settled into that pinched look naturally. ‘Are you Declan King?’
He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck in an attempt to appear sheepish.
Callum squinted at him. ‘I thought you’d be taller.’
Declan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It was a comment he’d heard before – at five foot ten he was hardly short, but it seemed that his reputation made Declan King, the boxer, a larger-than-life figure in the public eye. Something that Declan King, the man, struggled to live up to.
‘And I thought you’d have a face for radio, Callum,’ Jack quipped.
Callum’s scowl grew even more pronounced. ‘No wonder your stand-up career hasn’t taken off.’
Jack laughed good-naturedly as Declan turned to take stock of the competition. His eyes were immediately drawn to the man from the plane. Oliver’s hair was a mess, as if he’d been running his hands through it. Declan wondered if it was from nerves or if he knew how attractive he looked when his curls hung slightly out of place.
‘That one’s Oliver,’ Jack said, noticing Declan’s attention had shifted.
‘Hey there,’ Oliver said, his eyes skimming over Declan and then across the garden distractedly.
‘Nice to meet you,’ Declan said, choosing to forget their previous encounter and doing his best to not stare at the toned body that had been hidden under frumpy clothes.
‘And this big hunk of meat,’ Jack said, nodding to the final man, ‘is Niall.’
‘Declan,’ Niall bellowed, his Irish lilt coming out thick, ‘good to meet you! I’m a big fan.’
Declan smiled genuinely at that. ‘Do you box yourself?’ he asked. Niall was a beast of a man, whose arms bore an impressive collection of tattoos, and nose looked like it may have been broken before, so it was a fair question.
Niall let out a booming laugh. ‘Not in the slightest,’ he said. ‘More into healing than hurting. I’m a physical therapist.’
Declan found himself reconsidering his first impression, noticing Niall’s kind eyes and easy smile. Still, there were other factors to consider when it came to sizing up the competition.
‘Do I know you from somewhere?’ he asked smoothly. ‘TikTok?’
‘Nah, can’t be bothered with all that. My sister keeps me up to date with the trends, though.’
