After the commercial break, a hard rock intro blares through the speakers as the words Tuesday Tension flash across the screen, followed by clips of wrestlers beating the crap out of each other. When Xavier’s face appears in the montage, I’m mesmerized by the cocky grin on his face before he tackles another man down onto the blue mat, using enough force to make me flinch at the thought of physical pain.

“That was one of my favorite matches.”

Xavier’s words draw my attention back to him.

“Do you ever get hurt?” I quiz, wondering how someone can subject their body to so much and be able to walk away without a scratch.

The corner of his mouth lifts up into the same cocky grin I saw moments before on the screen. “You worried about me?”

“More like curious…and worried too, I guess,” I admit. “I don’t like to see people in physical pain.”

He shrugs. “I can’t say that I’ve never been hurt, but I’m damn good at my job—as are most of the guys on the show. We wouldn’t be there if we didn’t know what we’re doing. The goal is to never really hurt one another, but to put on a good show. Give people their money’s worth.”

“So none of it is real?” I ask as the show plays on in the background.

“The show has writers. Every storyline is well thought out. Sometimes they get inspiration from things actually happening in our lives, but the pain—when we do actually get hit—hurts like a motherfucker. The guys who make it in the business know it’s mind over matter. The key is to turn off the part of your brain that experiences pain—to shut everything out. Being able to do that is going to make me the champ one day. My body can take punishment,” he explains.

“Is that a goal of yours? To be the champion?” I ask, trying to figure out what makes him tick.

He nods toward the television. “That’s the goal of every man on the show. It’s the ultimate prize, and people will do whatever it takes to get it.”

I wrinkle my nose. “That sounds pretty cutthroat.”

“Believe me, beautiful, my job isn’t all rainbows and fucking sunshine. I’ve got to watch my back constantly. A lot of the guys are pissed I’ve climbed to the top so fast. They don’t think I’ve earned a shot yet, even though our boss believes I have.”

I stare into his eyes. “Have you earned it?”

His gaze drops down to the table as he says, “I’ve been through some shit in my life. Nothing I’ve ever achieved has come easy. I’ve fought for everything I’ve ever gotten, including working my way to the top of Tension. There’s no one more dedicated to the job than me. So, yeah, I’ve earned it.”

I open my mouth to dig a little deeper because I’m so curious about him, but quickly shut it. So many questions race through my mind—like what kind of shit has he been through?—but I’ve only known the man a few hours, and I don’t want to come off sounding like a nosy pest. But the curiosity burns through me like a pesky itch begging to be scratched.

Before I go against my better judgment and pry anyway, a voice on the television calls out Xavier’s wrestling name loud enough to jerk my attention back to the show. The man with broad shoulders and rippled muscles shoves his dark hair back off his face and points his black eyes directly into the camera.

“Phenomenal X, how convenient you choose now to take a personal vacation. What a load of crap. Such lies you tell all these fans who support you!”

The crowd boos the man, but it doesn’t stop him. “Why don’t you tell them all the truth, X? Tell them all that you’re too afraid to face me again after you cheated your way to a win last Tuesday. We both know who the better man is. Why don’t you tell them all how much pain I caused you? No, you’re too ashamed to let the world see how jacked-up your face is thanks to me. I want a rematch!”

I glance over at Xavier, who is focused intently on the screen. His hands ball into fists as they rest on the table in front of him. Whoever this man is, he certainly seems to be getting to him. If all this was so fake and scripted, why is he getting so angry?

The man on the show leans his elbows on the red ropes casually, like he’s completely comfortable being a jerk on national television, and holds the microphone up to his lips. “Whatever your reason for running, X, know that I’ll be right here when you get back—ready to kick your ass all over the place.”

Music blasts again as the man drops the mic into the ring and smirks as the camera zooms in on his face.

That guy gives me the creeps. “Who is that?”

Xavier’s nostrils flare a bit, like the mere thought of this man disgusts him somehow. “That’s Rex ‘The Assassin’ Risen. He’s the other guy the boss is looking at as a contender for the belt.”

“As in the championship?” I clarify.

“Yeah,” is all he says.

I tilt my head. “I take it you don’t like him very much?”

He shakes his head. “Fighting outside the ring is strictly prohibited, and we all sign a contract that states that we won’t do it. We fight—we get booted, without hesitation. There are too many guys chomping at the bit to take our spots for the company to worry about loose cannons. Assassin has begged for an ass beatin’ for a while, but the fucker knows I won’t touch him. He gets under my skin, and he loves to push my buttons.”

“So what did he do to antagonize you? Was it over a woman?”

His brow furrows. “What makes you assume that?”

I shrug. “Seems like that’s one thing you’re willing to fight over—contract or not. You were ready to pound Jared over me back at the club earlier, so I just assumed.”

“You assumed wrong. I don’t fight over women.”

“So then why did you protect me? You didn’t hesitate for even one second to call out Jared.” I try to point out how he’s just contradicted himself.

His blue eyes search my face, like he’s looking for answers to that very question for himself. “I don’t know how to explain it, and I’m sure I’ll fuck this up when I try to because it sounds crazy even to me.”

I reach over and touch his hand, wanting to hear his reasons so badly I can taste it. “Try.”

His tongue darts out and licks his lips. “Have you ever felt a connection with someone without even knowing them? When I look at you, I see goodness. I’ve not had a lot of good shit happen to me in my life, so when I see something pure, I’m drawn to it.”

I trace my fingers over his hand. “What do you mean? You have an awesome career, you’re famous…how is that not good?”

“That stuff isn’t real. It can all go away in a heartbeat.” He pulls away and rubs his face. “I told you I’d fuck this up. I guess what I’m trying to get at is that I’m alone. Other than Nettie and Carl, I have no family—no one. I’ve been on my own a long time, not living the way I should, and at one point I dug myself into a hole so deep, I wasn’t sure I’d make it out alive. It’s not a life many people want to get mixed up in. Working here saved me. Detroit is a rough place, so when I see a nice girl like you coming into a city filled with pricks like me, I worry. I don’t want you to become jaded down the road when the world’s cruel realities set in. You have too much light to be clouded by the dark.”

I smile. It’s crazy to think he’s so compassionate about me after only a few hours and while his intensity is unfathomable, I’m completely flattered. “So you’re saying you want to become my personal bodyguard and protect me from the big bad city?” I tease.

He reaches back for my hand and laces his fingers through mine. “There are lots of things I would like to do to your body, but yeah, if you want to look at it like that, guarding it from other guys is definitely a top priority.”

I giggle as heat rushes to my face. Oh, how I would like to tell him to do with me as he pleases, but I know I’ll hate myself if I allow some man I barely know use me like that. I may not have much experience with men, but I’ve seen enough in movies and read enough books to know that a lot of men toss women aside after they get what they want from them. Even if that man causes tingles to explode throughout every inch of me with one simple touch. I don’t think I could do that if he didn’t love me.