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Then the bracelet comes up, the one with the wee sparkly stones that I caught Briony looking at earlier. She didn’t say anything about it, just looked, head tilted to one side, the way I’ve learned means she likes something.

I lift my paddle.

It takes her a second to realise I’m bidding, then she grabs my arm. “Ryan. What are you doing?” she whispers.

I keep bidding.

“Ryan!” She tugs at my sleeve. “You don’t need to buy me a bracelet.”

“I know.”

“Then stop bidding!”

I lift my paddle again.

The table finds this hilarious. The exec’s wife is beside herself. Somebody at the back won’t give up, and the numbers climb.

“I’m sure you’re bidding a lot more than it’s worth,” Briony hisses.

“Probably.”

The guy at the back finally gives up. The gavel comes down.

“It’s for the Foundation,” I tell her. “So you can wheesht about the price.”

The room applauds, heads turn our way, and Briony goes pink to the ears.

The band has started up, and I’m talking about the last few weeks of camp with James and a commentator who’s covered half my fights. Briony is at my side with a cocktail, watching the dance floor and tapping her foot.

The song changes to a slow one, and she puts her glass down. “Can I borrow Ryan?”

James, amused, gestures towards the dance floor.

“I don’t slow dance,” I tell her.

“Aye, ye dae,” she says in a terrible attempt at my gruff accent. Then she pouts. “Please. For me.”

I sigh and let myself be led away, to the visible entertainment of the other two.

A few of the other fighters are on the dance floor with their partners. I put my hands on Briony’s waist, and her arms go round my neck, the bracelet cool against my skin. I settled up for it at the payment desk after the auction, and she’s been admiring it ever since.

And, just like that, I’m slow dancing.

In the cage, I know exactly what to do with my feet. Here, I haven’t a clue. But she sways, so I sway, and it works. And I don’t hate it. Not with her.

I’d have thought I’d feel a bit of an eejit, dancing to Cyndi Lauper’s “Time After Time” in a room full of people, but it’s hard to care who’s watching when she’s looking up at me with those big blue eyes.

“See?” she says. “You can slow dance.”

I pull her closer and breathe her in. “You’ve been driving me mad all night in this dress,” I murmur.

“Have I?”

“Mm-hmm. Especially at dinner, when you crossed your legs and I got a look at those creamy thighs of yours.” I bend to her ear. “We can leave soon. And the second I get you in that hotel room, I’m finding out what you’ve got on under this.”

She blushes, and fuck me, even the tops of her tits go pink.

When the song ends, she says she needs the loo. “I’ll be right back.”