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“What were yours?”

He shrugged.

“Nothing too awful I suppose. My father nearly dragged our finances to the ground before he died and the short time my uncle took over while I was in school did not help matters. I would concentrate on my studies a bit too much. Get wrapped up in the material and end up sitting hunched over my desk for hours. It created a sort of pent up frustration when I would finally rise.”

“So nothing’s changed,” she teased, and he smirked as he gave her chin the gentlest of shoves.

“Was it hard?” She asked next, her tone softer. “Losing your father?”

Dominic shrugged.

“I barely knew the man. Or my mother. I was raised mostly by nannies and tutors so when they died, there was not much to miss.”

The sympathy pouring from his gaze made him bristle at first, but then he stopped himself as he remembered Amelia’s own loss.

“You lost your mother as well,” he said slowly. “That’s why your father was able to sell you. There was no one in his way.”

Hurt laced through Amelia’s eyes but Dominic wasn’t deterred.

“Use that,” he said quickly, reaching up and pointing at her expression, using that moment to take her back to the lesson.

“That anger. Not with your moves, but the strength within your moves.”

“I have no idea what that means!” She replied in an exasperated tone.

He put both hands up, flexing his fingers.

“Right, left, right,” he called out.

Amelia quickly got back into her stance and threw three ill-aimed punches into his palms. He felt her aggression but not her strength.

“Wrong,” he told her, putting his hands down and sliding them into his pockets. “You’re going to want to hit when you’re angry but if you throw punches like that you’ll get knocked flat.”

“Well, I don’t know what you mean!” She retorted again. “Your teaching makes no sense!”

“Your father’s standing before you right now, readying your chains and I’m not there to stop it this time,” he said, raising left hand once more. “Now show me how you’re going to stop him.”

Amelia’s fist shot out toward his face instead of his hand. He easily side-stepped it and with a surprisingly graceful twist, wrapped his body around hers, his hand going to wrist as he moved her toward the punching bag.

“You’re a fool!” She snapped at him, trying to break free from his grip.

“Maybe so,” he chuckled into her ear, “But I’m a fool that’s going to teach you to control your temper in a fight. You had all your strength coming at me in that punch and you missed. You think the person you’re fighting is going to give you an opportunity to right yourself and try again?”

She huffed several angry breaths, but shook her head as she glared at the punching bag.

“Now this time sink back into your body and move with me. I can show you what I mean,” he promised.

This time she did not banter with him; did not question, but took his advice with silence and a look of concentration. In doing so every punch she landed got better; each hit landing with more impact, precision, and quickness. Eventually he backed away from her, letting her stand on her own as he continued to call out shots. By the time they finished an hour later, he was downright impressed.

“So youcantake direction,” he teased, his mood now lighter as he began to unwrap her hands.

“When it is important,” she retorted, and as he looked up at her through his lashes, he saw she was yet again giving him that haughty grin.

He huffed out a laugh and smirked as he shook his head and continued unwrapping.

“So is knocking your father out the reason why you want to learn this skill?” He asked.

He thought she’d at least chuckle, but Amelia only shook her head as Dominic pulled away the loose wrap and began massaging her wrist and palm. As he did so, he felt a shiver go up her arm. In turn, pleasure spiked through him. Not with as much aggression as before, but instead with satisfaction.