Misadventures in the Cage Page 4

  Josie picked up the phone and dialed her brother’s number. “Hey, Xav.”

  Xavier Gray nearly burst through the phone, he was so loud. “Where the hell are you, Josie? It’s nearly time for the press junket. You know I need you by my side for this. Plus, filming started hours ago. Aston is furious.”

  Aston was their producer and the man who’d helped launch her family into the public spotlight.

  “I’m here! I’m at the hotel. I’ll be there in less than five minutes.” And that was the goddamn truth. The luck of the dice that Callan was staying at the same hotel that Xavier’s press junket was at was astronomical. She couldn’t believe it when he’d told her last night, and she had been thrilled at the coincidence.

  “Thank fucking Christ,” Xavier said through the phone. “Listen, I need a water and a breakfast sandwich. Can you hook your brother up?”

  “Not a problem,” she assured him, stepping off the elevator and heading toward a breakfast cart in the lobby. “Grabbing it now.”

  “You’re the best, Jos.” He hung up the phone without saying goodbye. His usual style.

  Josie grabbed a few breakfast sandwiches—she knew the drill; everyone in the family was going to want one—and some waters from the breakfast cart and then headed to the conference room where the press junket was going to be held.

  Her family was in a smaller conference room behind the main one, waiting to be introduced and led out onto the stage.

  “Josie!” Xavier called out to her, waving her over to the waiting area where he was seated with their younger brother, Marcus, and their mother, Shondra. A crew of cameramen, sound men, and production assistants bustled around them.

  Their father, Xavier Sr., wasn’t in attendance today, which was fairly normal for him. He got anxious in large crowds, not being a people person. He rarely came to large events—or any, really—and the family had gotten accustomed to that.

  Marcus immediately grabbed two breakfast sandwiches from her for himself. Typical.

  “You could say thank you, you know,” Josie reminded him, giving him every bit of attitude he deserved as she let the production assistant begin putting a microphone on her.

  “Thank you,” he said, or something like that. She could hardly tell because he was talking with a mouth full of egg and cheese biscuit.

  Josie just rolled her eyes as she passed out the remaining biscuits to Xavier and her mother and waited for the sound guy to finish setting her up with a microphone for the cameras. A makeup artist rushed over to her and quickly began fixing her face as well, which she was grateful for because she didn’t really want to be on camera looking like she’d just rolled out of some stranger’s bed.

  “Thanks, baby girl,” Shondra said, squeezing her shoulder. “Is this a new dress? You look stunning, darling.”

  “It is,” she confirmed. “Just wanted to do a little something special for the junket. I know what a big deal this is to Xavier.”

  Xavier nodded his approval. “Okay, let’s go over what the topics are. Remind me?”

  “You’re more than prepared for this, but yeah, let’s do a quick recap,” Josie agreed. “They’re going to ask you how you feel coming out of your last win in the fight against Yoel Romero. They’re going to ask if you’re prepped and ready for the fight against Walsh next week. They’re going to ask you about your training regimen and what strategies you plan to use in the octagon against Walsh, especially being that Walsh hasn’t lost a match yet.”

  “He’s going to lose against me,” Xavier said with a confident grin, pounding a fist against his chest. “Motherfucker is going to get his ass kicked all around that cage.”

  Her brother had quickly become one of the best UFC fighters in the league over the last five years, and he was on par to become the best. He was short and stocky and absolutely bulked to the max with muscles. He was like a brick wall in the octagon when an opponent came at him. It made him difficult to beat, and he had won fight after fight until he found himself making millions off a single event.

  Hence, why he’d hired Josie to be his assistant. Hell, he had two other assistants on top of her, so it wasn’t like he even needed her, but he relied on her for personal things. Plus, she was part of the show. She was his sister, after all.

  It was a blessing, to be honest. The money he’d earned had brought their parents out of lower-middle class and put them into a beautiful home, where they never had to work again. It paid for her younger brother’s college and had paid for her culinary school. She was so grateful to her brother for that and for the way he took care of all of their family.

  The problem was, there was this invisible debt owed to him that she just could never seem to pay back. Except she was paying it back…with her life and service. Being a public figure came with a responsibility she just couldn’t turn away from, as much as she wanted to sometimes.

  “Gray… Ready?” a production assistant called into the back conference room, motioning for them to join the main conference room.

  “Ready to put your game face on?” Josie asked. “Remember, this is your first time meeting Walsh. You’ve got to be intimidating. Strong.”

  “Show no fear.” Xavier let out a growl and clenched his fists, looking angrier and angrier by the second. “I’m fucking pumped! Let’s do this damn thing!”

  He stormed into the next room with Josie a few steps behind. The back conference room gave access to one side of the platform where they’d be facing the reporters. They rounded the corner at the same time Walsh rounded the corner from the other side, looking just as angry, looking just like…

  What the hell?

  Josie’s jaw dropped as she paused in her tracks and stared at the man storming toward them from the other side of the stage.

  Walsh was…Callan.

  Chapter Seven

  Callan faltered in his step, pausing for a moment as he marched onto the stage. What the fuck is Josie doing here? Panic immediately set in—had this all been a setup?

  His opponent for next week’s match, Xavier Gray, saw him hesitate slightly. A wicked grin split wide across his face like the smug bastard knew then and there that he had Callan beat.

  Shit.

  He couldn’t afford the distraction. He couldn’t afford that recognition in his opponent’s eyes. One moment of weakness—even now, before they ever entered the cage—could signal the end of the fight if his enemy smelled it on him.

  Shoving the image of her gorgeous fucking body in that white dress waltzing toward him to the back of his mind, Callan decided to pretend she didn’t exist. She was a problem for another moment, but right now? No. He couldn’t handle the thought process of wondering why she was here or how she looked so damn good even on so little sleep.

  And damn, she looked amazing.

  There was a moment before she noticed him that he just got to watch her walk next to Xavier Gray—her hips swinging from side to side—that absolutely made him lose his breath. His mind flashed back to everything they’d been through in the past twelve hours and how amazing she felt beneath him without any clothes between them.

  Then she saw him.

  Guilt. Her expression was unmistakable. She regretted their evening—she regretted him. She leaned closer toward Xavier and averted her eyes, as if trying to be unseen.

  Had he just slept with his opponent’s girl? And not just any opponent, but Xavier Gray? Main character of Gray’s Angels? He’d never watched their reality show, but he had no doubt she was on it if she was part of his life.

  That mistake could cost him his career.

  He silently cursed himself for being so weak as to let a woman tempt him like she had last night. Hell, she hadn’t really tempted him so much as he’d chased after her. Literally. He’d wanted her and he knew it. But to be so reckless and get entangled with a reality television star who was dating his opponent? So close to one of the biggest fights of his life?

  He was undefeated for a reason. He let nothing get in between him
and the cage. He’d been one of the highest-ranking fighters in the UFC for a year now, climbing his way to the top. He was a newcomer in all regards, especially considering that this was his first championship, but fighting was his life and his livelihood, and he was one hundred percent invested. He did nothing halfway. He was here to prove that he could defeat the greats, and so far, he had.

  But Xavier Gray?

  That was a beast even he wasn’t sure he could handle. But he was damn sure going to try his hardest to prove that he deserved the title.

  “Welcome Xavier Gray and Callan Walsh,” a host said into the microphone at the podium in the center of the stage. The suited man pointed toward a microphone poised in the middle of the aisle in the room filled with reporters and news outlets. “Please line up at the microphone in the front row to ask your questions.”

  People swarmed to the microphone and began lining up quickly.

  Xavier Gray was already taking his seat at the opposing table, Josie by his side.

  Callan quickly moved to take his seat next, propping his elbows up on the tabletop and leaning in closer to the microphone pointed directly at him.

  “First question is for Xavier Gray,” a reporter asked from the aisle. “Are you worried about losing your title to the newcomer next week?”

  Xavier grinned and looked dead center at Callan. “Not even a little.”

  “Same question to Callan Walsh,” said the host, taking charge and directing the question around to him.

  The crowd shifted their gaze to him, and all of a sudden, he felt the weight of his entire career. This moment. This fight. It was everything he’d been working toward. Anxiety started to creep up in his gut.

  Where the hell is this coming from?

  He never got nervous about public speaking, and he’d certainly never been shy in front of cameras. But seeing the woman he’d just slept with on the arm of his opponent? Fuck…it was messing with his head in a big way.

  Swallowing hard, he reaffirmed his decision to ignore Josie entirely. She wasn’t even here. She wasn’t even a thought in his head. Hell, he’d been trained to tune out the distractions in his career—and he was going to do that now, starting with her.

  “He’s held on to his title long enough,” Callan spoke clearly and stoically into the microphone. “It’s time someone takes it from him.”

  The crowd rustled with excitement, and Xavier visibly bristled at his response.

  His opponent leaned in to his microphone.

  “Wishful thinking on the rookie’s part,” Xavier said to the cameras, pandering to his audience, who were eating it up.

  They went on like that for the next hour. Back and forth bickering—challenging each other more and more to bigger and loftier goals in the cage next week—while the reporters threw out questions to them, asking about their history, their records, and their upcoming match.

  When it was finally time to come off stage, Callan had successfully ignored Josie for at least the last forty-five minutes and was completely pumped up with adrenaline from the verbal sparring match.

  “Great job, Cal,” Samson, his assistant, said, praising him after he walked down the stage steps and exited to the side. Cal was the name he normally went by and what the world knew him as. Callan was his full name, but only the people in his personal life knew that.

  “That was perfectly on script,” Samson continued. “The reporters ate it up. I’m watching the news outlets now, and viewers are responding favorably to the story of an up-and-comer taking the belt from Old Faithful in there. Seems he’s not very well-liked.”

  “Probably because of his recent DUI,” Callan confirmed with a nod. “Don’t win a lot of favor that way after what happened to that poor woman and her child.”

  Xavier Gray had recently covered the tabloids when he’d driven drunk and hit a minivan with a mother and her child. They’d been severely injured, and he’d nearly gone to jail, but fame and money had wormed his way out of any real consequences.

  Samson cringed but nodded his head in agreement. “As horrible as it is, the narrative works in our favor. He’s disliked, and we’re the good guys coming to take the crown from an evil king.”

  Callan grinned. “Not often I’m referred to as the good guy.”

  “Apparently,” a voice said behind him.

  He turned around and faced Josie. Her black hair was pushed back behind her ears, curls springing loose in every direction, and her eyes were trained solely on him.

  “Samson, give me a minute, please,” he told his assistant.

  Samson began to argue, but Callan shot him a look that said there was no room for questions. “Fine. I’ll be in the penthouse.” Samson put his hands up in defeat.

  Josie stepped closer the moment he was gone, but Callan grabbed her arm and pulled her around the corner to a small alcove where they could talk without being seen by any of the passing reporters—or, God forbid, Xavier Gray.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he hissed, keeping his voice as low as possible. If she was working for Gray and had set him up last night for some public relations stunt, he was going to lose his shit.

  “Me?” She looked more angry than confused. Clearly she had some sort of understanding about the situation that he did not. “You didn’t think to mention to me that you are Cal Walsh, the UFC fighter?”

  He pushed his shoulders back. “Well, I certainly didn’t realize I needed to,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “After all, I’m not the one who made up our list of rules.”

  “Those are rules for normal people.” She slit her eyes into small lines, lifting her hand and wagging a finger at him. “Not famous UFC fighters competing against my boss.”

  “Your boss?” Callan clarified, trying to remember what she’d told him last night about her job.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Well, among other things.”

  So she was sleeping with him.

  Fuck. He’d literally slept with the enemy.

  “You know what?” he said, shaking his head. He couldn’t believe he’d done something so stupid as to not even ask her if she was single first, let alone in a relationship with his biggest opponent ever. “Keep the dress. This—whatever this was—is over.”

  Her eyes widened, but they were filled with fire. “You don’t get to tell me it’s over,” she replied, her voice lowering to a shrill whisper. “This never should have even started. And no one—I repeat, no one—can know about us. I cannot have tabloids finding this story out.”

  God, the fire in her spirit made his dick throb. He remembered that same passion from between the sheets and every memory of her perfect dark skin beneath his hands as he slid his tongue across every inch of her body.

  Callan put out his hand, because frankly, he couldn’t afford the scandal either. “Fine by me.”

  She rolled her eyes, ignoring his hand and storming away.

  “Hey!” Callan called after her.

  She glanced around them, making sure no one had heard him, and then quickly scurried back to him. “What?”

  He gazed into her perfect green eyes—sparkling with a mixture of fear and irritation. “Tonight. My place. We tell no one.”

  Her mouth parted slightly, and her brows lifted in surprise. “What?”

  He couldn’t believe he’d said it either. But something about her… Fuck, he didn’t want to stay away. Seeing her here, this close, yelling at him like she was in charge. He wanted nothing more than to remind her exactly who held the reins.

  “We tell no one,” he repeated. “No cameras. Just us. Just tonight. Get it out of our systems once and for all.”

  Her eyes narrowed again, but her tongue slid out across her lower lip. Her chest rose and fell faster as her breathing quickened. Oh yeah, he had her considering it.

  “Who’s to say I need to ‘get you out of my system’?” She crossed her arms over her chest, lifting her chin slightly. Hell, she even looked intrigued.

  Callan glance
d around them for a moment, surveying how private an area they were in. Luckily, he saw no one. Stepping toward her, he forced her back farther into the alcove and slid his hand up her leg.

  She panted, parting her legs slightly. It was like an automatic reaction to his touch, and he knew then and there that he had her…and that he wanted her. Sliding his hand across her panties, he felt her seeping through the silky fabric.

  “You’re wet just thinking about me,” he said, growling against her ear as he leaned in closer.

  He removed his hand, stepped backward, and brought his fingers to his lips and sucked on the tip, tasting her on his finger. Her eyes were sparkling with heat as she watched every move he made. “Tonight.”

  She bit the bottom corner of her lip, saying nothing in response.

  He wasn’t looking for a response, though. He’d already gotten one. Instead, he walked away and left her waiting and wanting behind him.

  He didn’t look back. He never did when he made a decision, but this decision could cost him everything—or it could be exactly what he needed to get his concentration back and forget she ever existed in the first place.

  Tonight would decide everything.

  Chapter Eight

  What the hell just happened? Josie blinked a few times, trying to reorient herself when she felt like everything in her world had just tipped upside down.

  Seeing Callan step onto the stage and realizing he wasn’t just Callan, a one-maybe-two-night stand that she’d never forget for the rest of her life. He was the Cal Walsh—her brother’s opponent in next week’s championship fight. He was the up-and-comer threatening to take down her family’s empire and everything they’d worked for.

  And this on top of their disastrous recent public relations.

  Keeping her brother behaving and in line was a full-time job. One that she’d been slacking on—and because of that, her brother had recently found himself in some serious legal trouble.

  To say her mother blamed her for it would be an understatement. But damn, he was a grown man. He could take care of himself. Still, there was nothing her brother could do that would make her mother mad at him. Everything was always Josie’s fault, or someone else’s fault, for tempting him to do the wrong thing. Her innocent baby boy was never to blame.