ChapterOne
Lily Parker was going to be sick. Not the sort of sick that comes from being ill or having a regretful one-night stand six weeks prior. More the type that follows living off iced coffee and Ativan for the last twenty-four hours.
Blowing out a long breath, she took one more glance at her reflection in the barber shop window. She’d filled out a bit since the last time she’d donned her only dress clothes—a charcoal pencil skirt and lavender blouse. Now her hips held a curve. Actual flesh, not just skin, stretched over her ribs. Was this unprofessional? Showing off her body online or at the club was one thing. An interview was something else entirely.
She smoothed her hands over the outline of her thighs, willing her brain to shut up.
Be confident, her friend Alex would say if he was there.Fake it till you make it.
Well, she’d faked it for years. Nothing had ever come to fruition.
Although maybe a successful job interview was more attainable than an orgasm.
Gripping the strap of her purse with both hands, Lily turnedand faced South Side MMA. The old brick building loomed across the street. She’d walked past the gym once before applying and twice since getting a call for an interview. Nothing unnerved her more than feeling unprepared, both for an event and for her surroundings.
If she let it, Chicago would swallow her whole.
A year ago, she wouldn’t have minded—she’d come to Chicago to disappear. In a city of nearly three million people, it’d been easy. Not anymore. A faceless girl was who she’d been, not who she was becoming.
Steeling her nerves, Lily strode across the street and through the frosted doors. A hollow lobby greeted her, framed by the echo of weights slamming into place as lifters lowered their loads. Behind a desk sat a petite Asian woman. Straight black hair cut in close below her ears. She perked up as Lily approached, a warm smile lighting her brown eyes.
“Good morning! How may I help you?”
“Good morning—” Lily scanned the woman’s name tag and smiled “—Rachel. I’m Lily. I have an interview this morning with Neal.”
“Oh, right this way.” She stood and tapped her laptop—pausing what looked like a K-drama.
Rachel led her away from the drone of the gym and down a yellowed hallway, passing by a squealing childcare room, until they arrived at a closed office door.
Lily scrubbed her palms against her skirt, cursing her nerves as Rachel rapped against the wood.
“Neal? I have your ten o’clock here.”
“Come on in!”
The door swung in, and Lily followed Rachel into a small office. Dark green walls swallowed up the light streaming through the only window over a back alley. A desk lamp illuminated a cluttered workspace filled with framed photosand paperwork. More frames adorned the walls, not just featuring fighter teams and championship certificates—that was to be expected—but family pictures and church events, too. Weddings and baptisms.
Even if South Side MMA hadn’t advertised as a small business, the office gave it away in a heartbeat.
Having cataloged her surroundings in as little time as it took to enter the room, Lily let her gaze settle on the two men behind the desk.
Dark eyes caught Lily’s, and she froze.
Leaning one hip against the desk, arms crossed over his chest like the world had fucked him over twice before lunchtime, was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. Short brown hair adorned his head and a deep scar split his eyebrow on the left side. He had a heart-shaped face. Stiff jaw, strong chin, full lips and rounded brows. Covering most of the white skin of his arms were sweeping, vibrant tattoos—they did nothing to hide his lean, well-defined muscles.
Well, fuck.
The older of the two, a Black gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair cropped in a fade and a kind smile, stood and offered her his hand. “Miss Parker, thanks for coming in. I’m Neal.”
His deep voice broke whatever spell the first man had placed her under. She painted a smile on her face and took his hand. It was rough and calloused, just like she’d expect from an old fighter. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. Please, call me Lily.”
“Welcome. Sit.” He gestured toward two worn leather chairs on her side of the desk. “Thank you, Rachel.” Rachel exited with a wave, and Neal’s gaze turned to his companion. “Staying for the interview, Sullivan?”
Sullivan—that has to be his last name, right?—straightened and shook his head. “You’re gonna do whatever you’re gonna do.I’m taking my fifteen with Saoirse.” He turned, slinging his hands into the pockets of his gray sweatpants and giving Lily a cursory sneer before slipping out the door.
So much for introductions.
Neal settled into his chair and sorted his papers, producing from a file what Lily recognized as her résumé. “Well, Lily. Let’s begin.”
