Page 25 of The Bonventi War

I wipe my face with my towel, hiding the unexpected sting in my eyes. "Yeah," I say quietly. "Maybe we could."

"I'm free tomorrow?" Morgan asks, her voice careful, like she's afraid I'll say no.

For the first time in weeks, I feel something loosen in my chest. "Yeah," I say. "Coffee would be nice."

As we head toward the locker room, Morgan suddenly grabs my arm. "Oh my god," she nods toward the weight area, "check out those two guys over there."

I follow her gaze toward the free weights, where two men stand near the squat racks. My eyes land on one of them first—his back is broad, defined with raw muscle, covered in dark ink that stretches across his shoulders and down his arms. The way the tattoos shift with his movements is almost hypnotic. My breath catches slightly in my throat.

He's hot. Stupidly hot.

"Do you see that guy's back?" Morgan whispers. "Jesus."

I laugh, feeling a flush creep up my neck. "Uhh, yeah. Tattoo guy," I say as my eyes trace the V-shape of his back.

Then he turns to adjust the weight, and my stomach drops.

Morgan gasps beside me, practically gripping my arm.

"Oh shit. Isn't that your scary security guy?"

Oh. My. God.

My mouth goes dry.

Gio.

Of course, it's Gio. Because the universe hates me.

He spots us, and something flickers across his face—a momentary break in his usual controlled expression. His eyes drag over my workout clothes, lingering a little too long, and the muscle in his jaw ticks once before a knowing smile appears on his lips.

I want to look away, I should look away, but my traitorous eyes are drawn to his chest, where the tattoos continue in mesmerizing patterns across and down his defined abs that glisten with sweat. A bead of moisture trails down his stomach, and I catch myself following its path before I snap my gaze back up.

He's not alone. Next to him stands another man, equally tall and muscular, though with fewer tattoos. They're talking in low voices, both radiating that dangerous energy that seems to fill the space around them.

"Who the heck is his friend?" Morgan whispers. "Is this like a hot body convention? They're both so..."

"Terrifying?" I say, trying to ignore the heat pooling in my lower abdomen.

"I was going to say hot, but yeah, that too."

They're walking toward us now, and panic flutters in my chest, but I force myself to stand still, fighting the urge to retreat. Gio moves with that same quiet authority, his broad shoulders cutting through the space like he owns it. His expression is unreadable, his eyes locked onto mine, dark and intense. I feel my skin starting to tingle.

"Raven," he says in that deep, commanding voice. "Fancy meeting you here."

His presence is overwhelming—all raw power, sweat, muscles, and that aura of something dangerous lurking beneath the surface he's always giving off. Him being shirtless has me feeling a bit flustered and off-balance.

I swallow hard and cross my arms, very aware of the way his workout shorts hang low on his hips. "It's a public gym, Gio."

His smile widens, and I know he caught me staring earlier. "Indeed it is."

Ares nods to us both, but his eyes linger on Morgan, who's turned an impressive shade of pink.

"Ladies," Ares says, his slight accent smoothing out his words. "Enjoying your workout?"

"Oh, I love your accent. Where are you from?" Morgan asks, brushing her hair behind her ear, Danny clearly taking a back seat.

"Greece. Have you ever been?"