Page 29 of His Ruthless Match

Jareth turned sharply, already in hyper-alert mode again. He stepped in front of me, his arms spread wide like a shield.

“Run to the bedroom,” he whispered. “Lock the door. Don’t come out until I say it’s safe.”

For once, I didn’t argue. I bolted to my bedroom and locked the door behind me. Heart pounding, I pressed my ear to the wood, trying to hear what was happening. This was far too much emotional whiplash for one night.

I heard the front door creak open. There was a pause, followed by laughter.

Laughter?

I cracked the door open and peeked out. Jareth was standing in the entryway, shaking his head as Raffaele and Vivian strolled in.

“False alarm,” Jareth called out. “Not a baddie, just your brother and his wife making out in the hallway. Crisis averted.”

I stepped out, shaking my head at Raffaele. “Seriously? Don’t you two have an apartment for that?”

“We were checking on you,” Raffaele said. “Clearly, you’re in capable hands, so we’ll leave you be.”

“You can stay. On the couch,” I said, once they’d left.

He gestured to the apartment. “You have more than one bedroom, Eva.”

“You can hear better from the couch,” I shot back. “It’s more centralized.”

As I walked to my bedroom, I tossed one last jab over my shoulder. “Besides, I don’t want cat hair on my Egyptian cotton sheets.”

His growl had me laughing all the way to bed.

Like usual,I woke up before the sun. My internal clock didn’t care that I hadn’t slept enough or that last night had been one for the books. Sitting up, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and yawned. Taking a hot shower was tempting, but coffee was my first priority.

I opened my bedroom door and stopped in my tracks.

Jareth was sprawled across my couch in all his irritating, half-naked glory. The couch was big, but so was he—broad shoulders, lean, muscular frame, one long leg dangling off the edge. The blanket was tangled around his hips, his black boxers peeking out the top.

He looked peaceful, almost... innocent. A lie, of course. Even in sleep, his stupidly perfect features radiated arrogance. His dark hair was a tousled mess, and that scruffy stubble on his jaw was enough to make me grit my teeth. My gaze dipped lower, catching on his abs—perfectly defined, because of course they were. This asshole looked like he could grace the cover of a fitness magazine.

I shook my head sharply. What the hell was I doing? He was Raffy’s insufferable assassin. I was just a job to him, and I didn’t want it to be anything more than that. In fact, I wanted to return him to sender, but alas.

I moved into the kitchen and started grinding coffee beans. I made no effort to keep it down. Within minutes, I heard the shuffle of feet behind me.

“What’s for breakfast, boss?” Jareth asked.

I turned to find him leaning against the counter, the blanket draped over his shoulders like a cape.

“Coffee. Then kickboxing. Then maybe a protein bar if I feel generous.”

He groaned dramatically and slumped into a chair like a child being denied candy. “A protein bar? That’s not breakfast. That’s an insult.”

I poured myself a mug of black coffee. “I’m changing into my workout gear. You’re free to leave the way you came in.”

“Not a chance,” he said, far too smugly for my liking. “You’re my assignment, remember? If you’re planning to punch things, I need to see what you’re capable of. In case you need to defend yourself again.”

I stopped in the doorway. “You think I can’t defend myself?”

His grin widened. “Like you did last night? Running down the street like you were auditioning forPanicked Civilian #1? Yeah, you really scared that shadowy figure.”

Heat rushed to my face. “You’re welcome to join me. I’ll happily show you what I’m made of.”

I headed to my bedroom, yanking open drawers with more force than necessary. If Jareth wanted to act like a smug asshole, fine. I’d wipe that stupid grin off his face soon enough. I pulled out a pair of workout shorts and a sports bra, tossing them onto the bed before grabbing my deodorant. At least I’d smell good while kicking Jareth’s ass.