Wild Side (Rose Hill, #3)(64)

Tabby: Of course it’s fake. I’ve had you locked in *my* basement. How on earth could she have you locked up safe with her? That’s absurd.

Tabby: Unless you have a twin brother?

Okay, now I’m just filling the space with weird jokes again.

Rhys: No twin brother.

Tabby: Damn.

Rhys: Sorry to disappoint.

That last text makes me feel kind of bad. Like I took it one joke too far. So I change the subject to asking him about wrestling, how it all started, when he knew this was what he wanted to do.

He starts from the beginning, recounting his days on the high school wrestling team, then training at a pro wrestling gym and trying his hand at it professionally. He shares more about himself than he ever has before, and I gobble up every crumb like a woman starved.

Rhys: Then I went and trained in Mexico. Even did some time on a circuit in Japan.

Tabby: Ugh. Now you’re just making me hungry. I’d kill for a good mole or ramen right about now. Midnight sushi? Yes, please.

Rhys: Lol. My girl has food on the brain *always*.

My girl. The term shouldn’t make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, but it’s late, and no one is here to judge me. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a relationship long enough for a man to call me his girl. So I bask in being on the receiving end of that kind of endearment from this man of few words.

Tabby: Is that where the mask inspiration came from? You really never take it off?

Rhys: Yeah, wrestling with the luchadores in Mexico was like an alternate universe. Honestly, some of the best wrestlers in the world. They taught me so much. Inspired me hugely. And I never take it off. Not even for in-person events. Now and then, another wrestler will try to unmask me as part of a storyline. But they never succeed. The anticipation is addictive. They try. I kick their ass. The crowd goes wild. I like to maintain my privacy. I like being able to slip on that mask and become someone else.

I like to maintain my privacy. It hits me then that Rhys isn’t in the habit of sharing these things with anyone. He’s built an entire career on keeping a front of complete anonymity. Of becoming another person when that camera turns on.

And yet, here he is blurring all those lines. With me.

In his own quiet way, it feels like Rhys has given me a gift. Given me a peek behind the mask. Given me his trust.

I spend so long trying to fit the pieces of the Rhys puzzle together—to come up with how best to respond—that I zone out entirely. By the time I pick my phone back up, I figure he’s gone to bed.

Still, I send him one final thought.

Tabby: I feel very special that I get to know both Rhys *and* Wild Side.

Then I doze off with my phone in my hand.

And when I wake up to drag myself upstairs, I see one final text from Rhys.

Rhys: You are.





CHAPTER 29


Rhys





“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?” I SPIT THE WORDS ACROSS Anthony’s office before the door has even clicked shut behind me. On my way in, I walked past several colleagues, and though they offered polite hellos, they stayed far away thanks to the massive storm cloud hanging over my head.

Anthony looks up at me over the rims of his wire-framed glasses. He’s wearing a suit like always, and his head looks freshly shaved. “Nice to see you too, Rhys.”

I don’t bother sitting down. I’m too agitated.

Instead, I toss my phone down, grip the back of the chair, and lean over his desk. “I’ve been trying to call you.” I nod at my phone. “The weird I-stole-your-girlfriend storyline full of over-the-top sexual innuendos needs to die a fiery death. I’m not playing that fucking game, Anthony. I’m a wrestler, not a soap opera actor.”

“Yeah, but you look like you could be on one.” His hands spread wide as though he’s envisioning a headline. “He stole his girl, and now he’ll steal his championship belt,” he quips, clearly not concerned about the fury rolling from me.

“This has always been a no. End it.” I’ve always maintained that I don’t want one of these storylines and have threatened to quit if they wrote me one. And I’ve been in demand enough to get away with it.

The older man leans back in his swivel chair, peering at me over steepled fingers. “You agreed to this when you took unexpected time off to get married. Plus, the internet is buzzing about you popping up for that promo with a shiny new wedding ring on your finger.”

Fuck, I should have taken that off. That’s Tabby’s ring. Not a prop.

But he’s not above using my personal life for his show.

My teeth gnash as protectiveness surges through me. I’ve always known Anthony is not my friend. He’s a businessman, a shark with dollar signs in his eyes, and I’ve only been able to keep him at a heel because he’s needed me more than I’ve needed him.

Until that one call. And I’d make that call again, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to rip his fucking head off.

“Nice wedding gift, Tony,” I grit out.

The asshole just smiles. “Relax. It’s not like you need to fuck her. We’re talking a kiss when the timing is ri—”

“Absofuckinglutely not.” My knuckles go white as I grip the chair.

“And an unmasking, but you’ll get your championship back. It will push you into full baby-face territory and give Will that full heel turn we want for him.”