but this was exactly what she’d imagined it would smell like: sweat and testosterone.
The second thing to hit her was the noise.
The third thing was the sight of a man with a flat nose, standing behind the reception desk at the entrance, spotting Talos and getting straight to his feet, a huge grin spreading over his face.
The two men greeted each other with bumped fists and a babble of Greek that ended with Talos giving the man a hearty slap on the back before indicating to Amalie to follow him. As they walked away she couldn’t help but notice the blatant adoration on the flat-nosed man’s face. Not a romantic adoration—she’d witnessed that enough times from her mother to know what it looked like—but more a look of reverence.
Past the reception area, they slipped through a door and entered the most enormous room.
Silently she took it all in: the square ring in the corner, the huge blue mats laid out in a square in another, the punching bags dangling at seemingly random places...
‘Is this a boxing gym?’
He raised a hefty shoulder. ‘I’ve boxed since my childhood.’
‘I can’t box!’
He gazed down at her hands. ‘No. You can’t. Throwing a punch at even the softest target has the danger of breaking a finger.’
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