Capítulo 41: ## Chapter 41: Playboy
After seeing Simmons off and washing the teacups, Link returned to the small living room. Emma was sitting quietly on the sofa, her back straight, staring intently at an unknown variety show.
She was wearing a blue sleeveless dress, revealing her fair and slender arms, delicate collarbone, shallow dimples, and slender neck, as soft and fragrant as warm jade, making one want to hug and kiss her.
On the low table opposite them were two empty plates. The fruit salad and Cuban sandwich that were originally on them were now gone, obviously Emma had enjoyed them.
Link sat down next to her, and Emma's eyelashes fluttered, a blush spreading from her ears to her cheeks and neck.
Her breathing became rapid, her knees pressed tightly together, her skirt trembling slightly, and a strange fragrance emanating from her body.
"Don't move!"
As Link reached out to put his arm around her shoulders, Emma glared at him and said.
Like a little hedgehog!
Link chuckled and wrapped his arm around her. Emma melted into his embrace like ice cream.
"How do you feel?"
"You're a beast."
"That's right, and you're a cute little deer, arousing my appetite."
"So it's my fault?!"
"No, the wind blows the sail, how can we say whose fault it is? Don't you like it?"
"Of course not, I almost died last night."
"Don't worry, I'll take good care of you."
Link pinched her upturned nose and said.
Emma opened her mouth and bit his finger, then raised her fair and slender calf, pointing at the fingerprints on it, and asked angrily, "What should we do? I still have to go to the set to film tomorrow. If my aunt sees this, she will definitely send you to jail, I guarantee it."
Link saw the clear fingerprints and couldn't help but feel a little dazed.
He remembered the scene of pushing the mine cart in the mine. The cart weighed hundreds of pounds and was filled with iron ore. He had to push it out with all his might, using his waist, arms, and legs.
After three years of pushing the mine cart, his palms were covered with thick calluses, gifts left by the blisters that repeatedly burst and healed.
Because of pushing the mine cart, his waist, arms, and lower body were extremely strong.
After practicing boxing, he also used these advantages to develop several killer moves, the "back throw punch" and the "liver punch."
After coming to this world, he did hanging leg raises every day, and his waist strength became even stronger.
Even opponents whose waists were twice as thick as his were far inferior to him in terms of resilience and explosive power.
And Emma was even more incomparable. She was 165 cm tall and weighed less than 50 kg, making it easy to get a KO on her.
"Don't worry, put some medicine on it, and you won't see it tomorrow. I remember in 'Harry Potter,' Hermione doesn't need to show her calves."
"You haven't seen the movie, how do you know she doesn't need to? Don't be so absolute."
Emma swung her calf and snorted.
Link smiled slightly, took out a small first-aid kit, put her calf on his knee, and evenly applied the ointment around the fingerprints.
Emma saw that there were many external injury medicines in the first-aid kit and asked him if he often applied medicine to girls.
Of course, Link denied it.
The dive shop was close to the beach, and there were often guests who bumped and bruised themselves while playing in the water. As a conscientious shop owner, he would naturally have some wound medicine in the shop.
Besides, as a boxer, it would be strange not to have any medicine at home.
After applying the ointment, he took out a bandage and wrapped it around her calf twice. He suddenly remembered that some time ago, it seemed to be here, he had treated another girl's leg injury.
"Link, you must be a playboy."
Emma looked at his handsome face, gentle movements, and last night's storm. She didn't think such a man would lack women, nor did she think any woman would be willing to leave him after becoming his girlfriend.
"Why do you say that?"
Emma glanced at the Playboy magazine on the table.
"That's James'."
Link shook his head, lifted her chin, and smiled. "I only have you as a woman right now. I have no reason to lie to you about this kind of thing."
Emma looked into his blue eyes, clear and clean, without any dodge. She nodded with satisfaction and leaned down to kiss him.
"Link! Link!"
James shouted outside the door.
Link touched Emma's cheek, kissed her forehead, and got up to go outside the shop.
James was walking up the steps, wearing a red baseball cap, curly hair hanging down from the brim like a small cape, his forehead and face covered in sweat.
Behind him were more than a dozen men and women carrying cameras and work bags, who looked like Simmons' colleagues in terms of temperament and attire.
"Link, they're reporters. I met them on the way and they said they wanted to interview you."
James shouted.
Link glanced at him. The shop was his home, his private territory. How could he bring reporters here?
Simmons had come earlier, first pretending to be a tourist to get close to him, and then chatting with him for an hour.
If these reporters wanted to get news, they should go to the West Boxing Gym, not the dive shop.
James didn't understand why he was being glared at, but he didn't care. He walked in, bumped into him, took a bottle of ice-cold Coke from the refrigerator, and gulped it down. Suddenly, he spat it out and stared at the small living room. "Em... Emma?"
"Shut up!"
Link went to the beach at the door and held a small press conference.
The reporters first congratulated him on winning the Golden Gloves Championship super middleweight title and becoming the number one ranked amateur super middleweight boxer.
Link thanked the reporters.
Then the reporters asked several questions that Simmons had asked.
Link wasn't impatient and answered them one by one.
However, the answers were slightly different. There were many reporters here, and he didn't mind boasting to attract attention.
"Mr. Link Baker, yesterday before the match, you publicly stated that if Bernard Hopkins, Chris Byrd, Valuev, and other boxing champions dared to challenge you, you would defeat them within three rounds, otherwise you would lose. If any of them accept your challenge, would you dare to fight?"
The USA Express reporter asked.
"Of course, that statement is always valid. I very much welcome them to challenge me."
"Mr. Link Baker, many people on the internet now call you 'Mr. Trash Talk,' meaning you like to talk big. Do you accept this title?"
The Baltimore Sun reporter asked.
Trash talk?
Link's face darkened slightly. This was the nickname of the British fighting star Conor McGregor, which he had no interest in.
Link said with a dark expression, "I don't understand the exact meaning of the slang term 'trash talk,' but I don't like the explanation that follows. What do you mean I like to talk big? Mr. Reporter, please give me an example."
The Sun reporter thought for a moment and raised his hand. "Mr. Link Baker, you publicly challenged several boxing champions and famous boxers, claiming to defeat them in three rounds and even Roy Jones Jr. in one round. Isn't that talking big?"
"Is it?"
Link sneered and raised a finger. "Seven days ago, I stood in the Florida regional competition and publicly stated that I would enter the finals by knocking out all my opponents. You thought I was talking big and laughed at me."
"Then I achieved 14 wins and 14 knockouts, successfully advancing to the finals."
"Three days ago, I stood in the American Airlines Arena and told all the reporters that I would continue to win the championship by knocking out all my opponents. You thought I was talking big and continued to laugh at me."
"Then I knocked out Morales and Andrzej Fonfara and advanced to the finals."
"Yesterday, I stood in the boxing ring and told everyone that I would knock out Andre Berto in five rounds. You still thought I was talking big and continued to laugh at me."
"What was the result?"
"I won the finals championship, 17 wins and 17 knockouts."
"Now I'm telling you that anyone who questions my strength can challenge me, and I'll take care of them in three rounds."
"So far, not a single match has taken place, and you think I'm talking big again and want to continue laughing at me?"
"Gentlemen of the press, you've been taught a lesson by the facts three times. Why can't you wait a little longer and laugh at me after I've been defeated by those people?"
"As for Mr. Trash Talk?"
"Sorry, I don't accept it!"
Link said indifferently.
The Baltimore Sun reporter lowered his head and quietly stepped back.
The other reporters couldn't help but marvel at his words. They found that although he liked to talk big, he had never failed, so he couldn't really be considered trash talk. Even if he was, he was an extremely powerful trash talker.
"Mr. Link Baker, I heard that when you were negotiating with major event promotion companies, you asked for a $100 million signing fee and demanded a 70% share when negotiating with top promotion companies. Is it because you asked for too much and no promotion company agreed that you haven't signed a contract?"
The Baltimore Sun reporter asked.
"I don't know where you got your information, but I can tell you now that I have no plans to sign with a promotion company at the moment. If I do sign with a promotion company, I will notify you separately."
"Okay, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your interview, but I still have some private matters to deal with. This interview ends here. If you have any questions, please go to the West Boxing Club and make an appointment with Manager Robinson. I'll be waiting for you at any time."
Link waved his hand and closed the door. Talking nonsense with these reporters was not as good as staying home and watching soap operas with Emma.
---
(End of Chapter)
Status de energia semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Pedra de
Poder