Chapter Two: In His Bedroom

Renata

I waited for Edwina outside the class. I had stared at the flyer for so long that if someone handed me a computer, I could recreate it without looking.

The bell rang and the students pushed through, rushing out. My eyes strained as I searched for Edwina. When she finally appeared, I dragged her to a corner beside the lockers.

Surprise etched across her face. I had not been in school for a week.

"Girl. Where have you been?"

"Look," I said, moving closer, my voice dropping below a whisper. The desperation was visible in my eyes. "Edwina, we have got to find a way to get me into that tournament."

She paused, staring at me.

"How? We can't convince coach."

"I know. Look, this isn't about me anymore. It's my mother."

She gasped. "Your mom? What happened?" She began to panic.

"She's fine. For now. It's the rent."

She understood immediately and drew me closer. "But even if we got you into the tournament, how sure are you that you are going to win?"

She had a point. But I had been training for this moment for a month. Losing was not an option.

"Trust me. I'll win." Edwina was one of the most popular girls in school and I was lucky to have her as my best friend. If there was anyone who could find me a loophole into this tournament, it was her. I just needed her to trust me enough to share it.

"Please. There has to be a way." She stared at me, her lips parted, silently debating whether to say what she was holding back.

"I have an idea." Her voice came out like the words were being forced from her lips.

"But it is a risk."

"I'll be careful. You know me, girl."

She swallowed. Her lips reached my ear.

"Drent Ardent. He's in town."

"What? I thought he wasn't coming until the finals."

"My sister is his personal assistant, so I know he's in town. And I know where he is staying." She paused. "Drent is the biggest boxer in this city, and he is the reason this tournament exists. If you can convince him, even Coach Peterston can't stop you."

My eyes brightened with hope. This was perfect. I did not even stop to think about what would happen if it went wrong. I was already all in. I turned to her.

"How do I meet him?"

She slipped a paper into my palm.

"That is Drent's hotel room number. By three o'clock he will order a spa service. You can give massages. Right?"

"Umm. Kinda."

"Good. Because you will go undercover as one. Then maybe you can talk to him. If you can convince him, you are in the tournament." My chest loosened with relief. I had hope.

I hugged Edwina and ran off.

"Call me. I want to know you're fine!" she screamed after me.

"Got it!" I called back without turning around.

It was half past one and my heart was already beating faster than normal. It felt like a stupid idea. What if he found out I was an imposter and reported me to the school? I would get expelled. But the looming rent and my mother's health mattered more than my education. If this risk ended in expulsion, I was ready to take it.

By three o'clock I was standing in front of a tall glass building. It was the biggest hotel in the city, the place where Drent was staying. I walked in dressed in white, a silk face mask covering my face. I carried a warm towel in my basket, looking every bit like someone who had come to give a massage.

I walked to the receptionist and told her why I was there. My knees trembled beneath me as she called upstairs to confirm whether Mr. Drent had ordered a spa service. He had, and he asked that I be brought up immediately.

I exhaled in relief as I was led to his room. I opened the door and the smell of antiseptic soap greeted me. I set my basket on the table and walked deeper into the room. My knees continued to shake. What had I been thinking, coming here? But I had gone too far to turn back.

I tied my hair into a bun to look more professional.

"You're late," a deep, husky voice cut through from behind me. My heart lurched. I spun around and threw my hands over my eyes immediately. He was naked. I stumbled backward, trying to shield my eyes.

"Please," I stuttered. "Put on some clothes. Sir." He smiled. I could feel it without seeing it. I heard him moving, heard the rustle of fabric as he pulled on his trousers.

"You can look now," he said, his voice calm.

I slowly lowered my hands from my eyes. And for a moment, I could not breathe.

He was incredibly handsome. His hair was as long as mine but tied into a neat bun. A tattoo spread across his chest and trailed down to his crisp abs. His eyes were thick and dark, the kind that seemed to reach past everything and settle somewhere deep. And he was tall. So tall I had to tilt my head all the way back just to meet his gaze. My body reacted before I could stop it, but I pulled myself together.

Still, I could not seem to speak. His eyes moved over me slowly, and a smile spread across his lips.

"Are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to do your job?"

His voice snapped me back. I cleared my throat and straightened my back, trying to look like someone who had done this a thousand times.

"Right. Of course. Sorry." I gestured toward the massage table near the window. "If you could just lie down."

He raised an eyebrow, that slow, amused smile never leaving his face. Like he found me entertaining. Like I was a puzzle he had not yet decided whether to solve.

He walked past me and lay face down on the table, arms folded beneath his chin. His back was a canvas of muscle and ink, tattoos sprawling across his shoulder blades like a story written in a language I could not read. I stood there with the warm towel in my hand and my mind completely blank.