I’d been lying to myself that I was only curious about her as my employee.
It wasn’t polite or professional as I stood and watched her. This had sharp, snapping teeth and a voracious appetite, something I hadn’t tapped into before.
Like shaking a limb that had fallen asleep, wincing through the pins and needles as the blood flow returned because for so long, that side of me had been silent.
I stopped to watch Isabel draw her left arm across her body to deliver an explosive back fist to the bag, followed by a right hook and, with a quick snap of her arm, an elbow strike.
Her technique wasn’t perfect, but when emotion took over, it was rare that anyone held their body correctly.
Finally, finally, I was seeing the real her. And I knew the truth of that bone-deep.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I tried to fight the warring emotions behind my ribs.
Leave now was the thought battling for dominance, but my curiosity and the completely mesmerizing way she moved held my feet firm on the ground.
No. Not curiosity. Attraction disguised as something far more innocent.
My gaze caught the edge of her high cheekbones and the sculpted line of her jaw. Even from where I stood, I could see how tightly she clenched that jaw, and I wanted to lay my hands on her shoulders and tell her to relax and breathe.
If I tried hard enough, I knew exactly how it would feel if I did. If I drew my thumbs down the line of her neck to unlock the muscles she was holding so tense. She’d go pliant if I did that. If I treated her with softness.
But I didn’t want to see her melt. Didn’t want to see her go into some sweet, tender place.
The fire in her was palpable, and I knew I was about to walk into it.
It was that instinct that had me leaning down to snatch the focus mitts that laid on the ground next to the ring. The remote for the stereo was on the floor by her bag, and as much as I didn’t want to get a roundhouse kick to the face from Isabel Ward, my own seething anger at her leaving the door unlocked had me approaching from her blind spot.
Just to see what she’d do.
Just to see what would happen.
It was stupid. And nothing, not a single thing, had excited me this much in two years.
If this was my chance to see the real, unguarded version of her, I would not waste it. And later, I could curse myself for a moment of weakness.
I shoved my hand into one focus mitt and rolled my neck before sticking the second one on.
When she drew her leg back and kicked the bag with such force that my eyebrows popped up, I held one mitt up to protect my face and touched her shoulder with the other.
With a roar fit for an Amazon, she whirled, glove aimed right at my face. I yanked my hand to catch the right cross on the mitt.
“Not bad!” I shouted over the music. “But next time, go for an uppercut off your back leg.”
Her chest was heaving, her blue eyes wide, and she kept her gloved hands at guard.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” she yelled.
I gestured to the door. “Anyone could’ve walked in here.”
Her eyes narrowed in a vicious glare, and for just a moment, I couldn’t help but glory in how well she wore anger. Isabel tugged off a glove, then reached down and snatched the remote, turning the volume down to a more manageable level.
Neither one of us spoke, but Isabel was breathing heavily. Since I’d seen her earlier, she’d pulled off her gym T-shirt and stood in front of me in a sweat-soaked purple bra and black leggings. I hated that I noticed, and because I did, I kept my eyes firmly on her face.
This was, without a doubt, the absolute last fucking thing I needed.
And it was the only thing I wanted from her.
No more tiptoeing. No more leaving her be.
Isabel broke the stare first, setting her hands on her hips and letting out a weighty exhale. “This just … figures, doesn’t it?”
“What?”
“You!” she yelled, lifting her head, eyes blazing. “Of course you’d show up right now.”
I stepped around her, and she moved as I did, keeping her front foot centered toward me, just as she should have. “You got a problem with me showing up at my own gym?”
“At the moment? Yeah.”
I held up a glove. “Show me.”
Without hesitation, Isabel hit me with a jab.
“Why don’t you want me here?”
Each strike hit the mitts with a sharp snap. “You want a list?”
What was this? It was so immediate, so unfiltered, and the exact opposite of every interaction we’d ever had. My blood screamed with something hot and pulsing, something new and furious.
“The last thing I need,” she said, chin raised and chest heaving, “is you here to see this.”
“Again.” I held up the gloves.
Snap.
Snap.
“I almost punched you in the face.”
“You didn’t almost punch me in the face,” I said calmly, which made her eyes narrow even further. “More.”
She gave me more. Three more in quick succession. But she didn’t calm. There were words brewing, and I could see them flaring hot in her eyes. But I knew she wouldn’t give them to me. Not easily.
“What happened to your advice to Casey earlier? I thought the goal was to disengage, not attack.”
Isabel lifted her chin. “For her, that is the goal.”
“And you hold yourself to a different standard?”
She didn’t answer. But watching the flash behind her eyes, like someone dropped a match into a vat of gasoline, I knew I was right. This was Isabel Ward. And she was fucking glorious.
I wanted more of it. More of this. No matter how wrong she was for me, how badly this might go, or how much I might regret it. I wanted more.
That was why I leaned in and whispered, “Lock the fucking door next time.”
Her mouth fell open.
Satisfied that I’d made my point, I nodded, lifting the mitts. “Let’s go. Whatever your problem is, get it out right now.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.