Page 22 of Shattered by Grace (The Locke Empire Duet #1)

Chapter Eighteen

C oming out of the locker room, Victoria was stopped dead as Tristan stood there, sexy and sweaty, commanding the room like he owned it. Victoria’s breath hitched. How could someone be both a warning and an invitation? His dark, stormy, and daring eyes, promised danger, yet she couldn’t look away.

“Get in here with me,” he drawled, his grin nothing short of wicked. A challenge, not an invitation.

Every instinct screamed to run. Justin’s warnings echoed in her mind. S tay away, the Locke family will destroy you , but her body had other plans. Because, damn, Tristan was temptation personified.

“I would, but I’d hate to embarrass you again,” she shot back, forcing nonchalance even as her pulse betrayed her.

Tristan smirked, stepping closer, heat radiating off him like a warning and a dare all at once. “Afraid you might like it too much?” His voice dipped, teasing, taunting.

She scoffed, ignoring the shiver trailing down her spine. “Some things aren’t worth the trouble.”

He tilted his head, studying her, his gaze sharp enough to cut. “Trouble,” he mused, voice a low purr. “Funny thing about that, it’s only trouble if you regret it.” He leaned in, his breath ghosting against her skin. “So tell me, Grace… would you regret it?”

God, he’s fucking gorgeous. Those fuck-me eyes are going to get me into trouble.

A small, shocked noise escaped her throat before she forced a smirk. “Depends on what it is.”

Tristan chuckled, dark and knowing. “Now that’s the right question.”

He’s too close. Too intoxicating . Victoria tilted her chin up, refusing to back down. “Tony, I need tape and gloves. Looks like someone needs a lesson.”

Tristan barked out a laugh, his eyes gleaming with something between amusement and admiration. “You’re a violent little thing, aren’t you?”

Tony, caught between them, tossed her the gear with a grin. “Tristan, you better watch it. She’s beauty, she’s grace, and she’ll punch you in the face.”

Victoria snorted mid-laugh, the sound surprising even her. Tristan chuckled, deep and genuine, and for a moment, she forgot the stakes. Forgot she was being followed. Forgot why she should stay away from him.

“You good, Grace?” Tristan leaned against the ropes, his smirk lazy, but his eyes hungry with something darker.

She flexed her fingers in the gloves, not backing down. “Wonderful.” She checked her gloves, rolling her shoulders. “Ready to lose again?”

Tristan’s smirk deepened, a flash of something almost predatory in his gaze. “Lose? I don’t lose. I just make sure everyone else does.” He straightened, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. “Including you… if you’re not careful.”

The moment they squared off, the world blurred.

All that remained was the simmering heat between them, the way Tristan watched her with a hunger that scraped at her insides, like he wanted to tear her apart and put her back together again.

The gym pulsed with the energy of the fight, but the tension between them was palpable, a spark that could ignite at any moment.

Focus, V.

Tristan struck first, a swift jab to test her defenses.

She dodged, feeling the rush of air as his fist sliced by her face.

He wasn’t messing around, but neither was she.

She waited, letting him inch closer, reading him like a book, calculating her next move.

He came at her again, trying to push her into a corner, but she flowed like water, slipping out of reach.

He smirked. “That’s all you got?”

Her reply was quick with a right hook, direct to his ribs. The sound of the impact sent a shiver of satisfaction through her. His grunt was rough, and he stumbled back, momentarily off balance. His eyes narrowed, surprised but intrigued.

“Not bad,” he said, his tone almost admiring. “But you’ll have to do better.”

Then he came at her with everything he had, faster, harder, relentless. She couldn’t keep up. One low sweep of his leg, and she was off balance, crashing to the mat before she could even think.

Before she could recover, Tristan pinned her beneath him.

She felt every inch of him, the weight of his body pressing down, the heat of his breath against her skin, the strength in his hands as they held her wrists.

She could’ve sworn she could feel the thud of his heartbeat through the thrum of her own.

His grip was firm but not crushing, just enough to remind her of who was in control.

“I think we’ve been here before,” he murmured, voice dark and husky. His lips hovered dangerously close, his breath mingling with hers in the space between them. The challenge in his eyes was undeniable, but there was something else there too—an unspoken dare.

Her heart pounded, but not from the fight. The proximity. The pressure of his body over hers. The way he was looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered in this moment.

For a heartbeat, it felt like everything had paused.

Tristan thought he had her. He thought he was the one holding the cards.

But he didn’t know her.

She went still, letting him believe she’d surrendered.

She held her breath, waiting for him to loosen his grip.

And when he did, just for a second, her legs shot up, wrapping around his waist with the force of a steel trap springing closed.

In a fluid, practiced movement, she flipped them, straddling him in an instant, her thighs locked tight around his torso, pinning him beneath her.

His eyes widened, the surprise quickly darkening into something far more dangerous.

“Think again,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. She leaned in just enough so he could feel the heat of her breath skimming his skin, felt his chest heave beneath her. His hands twitched as if he wanted to grab her, but he didn’t dare.

Neither of them moved.

His eyes dropped to her lips.

She smirked.

“You underestimated the wrong girl again, Tristan. And that’s dangerous.”

Pushing off his chest, she wiped the sweat from her brow, wincing as her fingers grazed her cheek. Great. Just great.

Turning, she walked past him, nodding at Tony. “Tony.”

She stepped off the sparring mat, leaving Tristan and Tony behind, the weight of the fight still buzzing in her veins. She didn’t look back.