Page 203 of Alphas Like Us

And goddamn, we’re bothsmiling.

39

MAXIMOFF HALE

Newsof our engagement has spread like a tornado ripping through flatlands. No houses destroyed yet, but damage control mode is still alive. Just as aprecaution.

Too many tabloids, magazines, entertainment sites have contacted our reps. Inquiring about front-page spreads, interviews, photo ops. Everyone is seeking the first exclusive pictures, videos,anything.

And they’ve all received the same automatic reply from ourpublicist:

Maximoff & Farrow are enjoying their engagement and would like to remain private at this time. Thank you forunderstanding.

I’m currently focused on rebuilding strength in my right shoulder. All without overexerting, without pushing too far and tearing my body to fuckingpieces.

Hence, working out with my childhood crush, my bodyguard, my doctor, my fiancé—all Farrow RedfordKeene.

He has strike pads on both of his hands, hoisting them up to me. I jab the pad with my left fist, protected by a red boxingglove.

Sun shines through the full-length glass windows in Uncle Ryke’s gym. Heating the space. It’s pretty much why I’m sweating. Because there’s no way my slow pace alone could warrant me soaking through myshirt.

“How did that feel?” Farrow asks me as I gear up to do a rightcross.

“Fine.” I think I can try harder without killing my muscle. I go for a right cross with my right arm…and I end up lightly tapping the pad. Listening to my body. The stretch alone pulls my tendonstaut.

“Sore?” heasks.

“Not at all,” I say, sarcasm thick. “I could without a doubt take you in a boxing ring. Let’s go, rightnow.”

“That’s an adorable fantasy,” Farrowsays.

I growl into agroan.

Farrow smiles, too amused. “How about we come back to reality?” He motions me to ready myself. “Put your gloves up to yourchin.”

I follow the instruction, and Farrow spreads out the strike pads for me to do a hook combination. Before I even swing, the glass dooropens.

I drop my arms, and we both turn to see my little brother. Xander is in gym shorts and a T-shirt that saysWinter is Coming.Shock coils in me—surprised he’shere.

“Hey,” Xander says, hair hanging in his eyes. “I got yourtext.”

He almost never works out with me. But every time I’m at the gym, I try to always invite him along. He usually brushes it off. Him, putting in this effort, whether it’s for me or himself, I don’t care. He’shere.

That’s all thatmatters.

“You’re here to work out?” I askhim.

“I mean…yeah,” he says. His eyes dance across the equipment. “What do yousuggest?”

“You should start on the bag,” Farrow tells him, nodding to the boxing bag that my uncle hung up a couple weeks ago. “Here…” Farrow takes off his pads and grabs a pair of black cloth wraps that hang on the wall. “I’ll wrap yourhands.”

Xander follows Farrow’s instructions to hold out his hands. Palms down, and Farrow crisscrosses the wrap, weaving the cloth between hisfingers.

I swing my right arm in a pendulum stretch while Iwait.

My little brother glances from Farrow to me. “So have you guys decided on when you’re having thewedding?”

Farrow eyes lift to me and then his brows rise. “Wehave.”