Uppercut {a pedro pascal au}

one

Pedro

"Look, you don't know when you're going to get a nanny, and Maisy's summer is free and she's not doing anything," Rick, my coach says from behind his desk. "This will give her a job, and it helps you out," he reasons as I stand there with a stoic expression, hands on my hips, itching to shower after a sweaty conditioning session. "You've got some big matches coming up and you need to be at your prime. You can't do that when you're constantly stressed about childcare," he says as a reminder.

"I know," I agree him on that one, scrubbing a hand across my stubbled face.

It's a decent offer, and I'm not sure another option is even out there. After only two weeks on the job, I fired my fourteen-months old son's nanny. And the poor lady wasn't the first that I sent away. I have a problem with letting random strangers look after my son. I want the best possible care for him but it's hard to scout out a caregiver who is willing to fly with us when I have matches all over the States. I don't have much wiggle-room. It's either Rick's daughter—who at least isn't a complete stranger I have to let into my home—or bringing my son to the gym. My hands are tied here.

"Fine, but one screwup, and she's done."

A pleased smile spreads across Rick's face. "Okay, great. She'll be here soon so you two can meet right away."

I swear to god. "Really? What if I said no?" I scoff.

"You didn't," he simply brushes it off.

Maisy

I fucking hate my life.

I'm running late, my hair is a frizzy mess due to the humidity outside, and that suffocating feeling that my whole life is a failure has flared up in the past few days.

I enter the gym and greet the desk lady who's worked for my dad since the day he opened his boxing academy. "Hi Magda. I'm here to see dad. Is he in his office?"

"Yes, sweetie. Go ahead, you know where to find him," she says over the loud music, turning to hand a sweaty guy a towel.

I make a beeline for my dad's office. I rarely come here, but when I drop by, it's to talk to him. I never linger around, this place is a bit intimidating with all the muscular men punching sandbags.

"I need your help with something," is the first thing my father says as I close the door behind me.

"Hello to you too. Glad to be of service," I mock. "How can I be of help today, dad?" I ask, thinking it's something to do with laundry or kitchen duty.

At twenty-one I still live with my parents, well it's just dad and me now. I went to college to study political science and you can imagine how that ended up. With me jobless. I decided to move back in with him partly because I didn't find my group of people I could start a life in another State and partly because most internships—yes, after earning my degree I could only apply for internships—are in New York.

"I need you to nanny for a little boy until they find a suitable replacement," my dad tells me.

"Wow, okay," I plop down into one of the two seats facing his desk. I don't even try to cover up the confusion overtaking my features. "Of all the things you would ask, I never would've guessed it would be to nanny for someone but here we go."

"I know it might be a lot to take on but Pedro just fired his nanny and I need him to focus on his training," my father elaborates.

I know exactly who Pedro is. He's my dad's best-performing boxer with multiple titles to his name. He's considered the next Muhammad Ali in the boxing community. What I didn't know was that he had a kid.

"He's got the loveliest little boy, I'm certain you'd get along," he goes on, knowing full well how when I was choosing a major, I was also debating childcare. "Plus, it'd be just for the summer, I know you've got another internship starting in September."

I'm not as sure about that internship as my father though. My first six-month internship left me thinking that corporate America might not be it for me. But that's for me to iron out.

I don't take much convincing. This nannying thing would at least keep my mind off the fact that my life is in shambles and I'm clueless as to what to do with myself for the rest of my adult life.

As soon as I agree to do this, he hollers his boxer's nickname. "Viper!"

In anticipation, I catch myself smoothing down my hair. What on earth is going on with me? I'm going to nanny this man's kid for fuck's sake. I don't need to look desirable.

An imposing man is entering the small room that serves as an office for my dad. "Pedro, meet my daughter."

Pedro edges into the room, dominating the space. His tall body towers over me and I'm at eye level with his broad chest. He's wearing a simple black t-shirt and it looks so good on him. His broad shoulders, his tapered waist, the fabric tight over his contoured chest, his biceps pushing against the sleeves.

He ducks a little to pull my attention from the expanse of his chest, giving me a smile that I imagine must be cultivated to reassure people that he isn't going to break their hand when he shakes it.

The slow smile stretching across his lips draws my attention to his face. His coffee-brown hair is combed off his forehead, he has achingly soft brown eyes and raspberry-pink lips. Patchy stubble dots his jawline and he has a moustache. He's unfairly gorgeous but just imperfect enough to seem perfect. He has a scar on his chin and a fading black eye.

Overall he emits an older man aura and that alone is my kryptonite.

He gives my hand a gentle squeeze when he shakes it. "I'm Pedro," he drawls and I might have just fallen under its spell.

Yet another one-sided situationship here I come I guess.

"I know who you are," I blurt and I instantly want to facepalm. "My dad boasts about you constantly. I'm Maisy."

He drops my hand, placing his on his hips, his eyes ping-ponging between me and my father. "Is that so, huh? What's he telling you about me?" His easy-going demeanour wins me over immediately.

I shrug, feigning nonchalance. "Like you're the next big name in boxing."

"Tough luck. You might want to find yourself another client who still has it in them, coach, because I'm getting old," he bickers.

"You're only thirty-four," Rick gives him a deadpan look. "You still have a few good seasons in you. Anyways," he says, cutting straight to the point like the straightforward guy he is. "I called you in here because the two of you are a perfect match. Maisy here needs a summer job while you, my friend, need a nanny to look after your kid. Now, can we make it work?"

Pedro looks at me with X-ray eyes. "Can you drive?"

I nod. "I can drive."

"Do you have any experience with children?"

I shrug. "I mean I babysat for a couple of kids when I was in high school."

He's wordless as he mulls over his options.

"I guess if she's in, it's fine by me."

"Then it's a done deal," Rick concludes, clapping his hands together. He looks at the clock above the door. "Shit, I gotta go, I have a class to teach," he springs to his feet. He's pretty fit for his fifty-one years of age. "Bye, sweetheart. Pedro, see you eight in the morning for conditioning." He plants a kiss on my cheeks before hurrying off.

"Put your number in. I'll text you my address," Pedro says then, holding out his unlocked phone for me to take. "I'll have the guest bedroom ready for you in a few hours."

My dad explained that he requires a live-in nanny since he travels a lot and has a hectic schedule—I figured as much, my father too travels with him, he's his head coach after all. I agreed to his terms because I knew my dad wouldn't support this if Pedro was a creep.

My ovaries swoon when I see that his wallpaper is of his son, all baby teeth as he smiles into the camera.

I punch in my number with tingling fingertips and hand it back to him.

Oh God, he is going to be my downfall, isn't he?