Page 22

SINCLAIR

“Ugh!” My breath is forced from my lungs as Denver lays me out on my back on the mat with a thud.

“Again,” he clips, holding out his hand to help me up.

I stand, ignoring his offered hand and climbing to my feet. I wipe the sweat from my brow with my forearm.

“I’m just warming up,” I pant, fighting to catch my breath.

“I know,” he replies. “You want to take a minute?”

I narrow my eyes at him. My warmup has consisted of him making us run a three-mile trail through the woods that surround his secret cabin, and then having my legs kicked out from under me by him five times in as many minutes.

We only arrived a couple of hours ago, but he said we should get straight on with it.

And true to his word, the Wi-Fi in this secret lair of his has been disabled.

Even Monty’s no company. He’s been sleeping on a rug in the living area since we arrived.

So I have nothing else to do. It’s either count treetops or start training so I can get back to the city as soon as possible.

“No,” I huff.

I kick out at him again and he expertly sidesteps, then grabs me around the knees, hoisting me over his shoulder.

“You’re cheating!” I slap his back with my palm before he puts me down.

“These assholes won’t play fair,” he says, taking a step back from me.

“Uh-huh. Neither will this Brute that I’m stuck with,” I say as I grab his vest and pull him toward me, lifting my knee and jabbing it toward his crotch at the same time.

He grabs my waist, lifting me like I weigh nothing, and using the fact I have one foot off the floor to manipulate my balance. I’m thrown up into the air, and he pulls my body to his until I’m straddling his waist, our faces inches apart.

He wraps his giant arms around me so tightly I’m pinned to him, my arms held behind my back. I’m unable to do anything except keep my thighs banded around his thick torso. I squeeze them, trying to dig my knees into his ribs, but it’s pointless.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, Sinclair. But you’re vulnerable. Look at the way I’m holding you and I’m not even out of breath.”

I scream into my cheeks in frustration and wriggle in his arms. All it does is rub my nipples in my cropped workout top against his vest and make them pucker into tight peaks from the friction.

“I could do whatever I want to you, and you’d not be able to do a thing about it.”

Green irises burn into mine, and I stop fighting. Denver’s grip on me loosens a tiny amount as I lean closer to him. His eyes remain locked on mine as I move closer.

“Anything you want, huh?” I dust my lips against his and his breathing stalls.

Then I grip his bottom lip between my teeth and bite hard enough to make a point. His warm, minty breath entwines with mine and his hold on my wrists tightens behind my back.

I expect him to let me go, to flinch, curse, something.

But he doesn’t.

I pull back, and he runs his tongue over his red lip, his lids hooded as he stares at my mouth.

“Good,” he clips.

“Good?” I echo with a frown.

“If you can surprise your opponent, then it can give you a window to escape.” He places me onto my feet and picks up my towel, handing it to me. “Let’s take five. Grab a drink.”

I do as he says, grabbing my water bottle and walking out of the gym, following him down the hallway and into the main living area of the house.

He’s striding ahead of me, and he steps outside onto the giant porch that juts out from the side of the house into the treetops.

I get the impression he doesn’t want company.

I lean against the back of one of the couches as I watch him, hands gripping the railing, shoulders tense as his gaze fixes into the distance on the sunset.

His ‘cabin’ is a secret mountain mansion.

It’s huge and decorated in a modern, yet understated way.

Lots of bare wood and natural textures. It’s fully furnished with an open log fire in the giant living space that Monty has claimed as his area, and huge floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the treetops.

It’s also fitted with the most state-of-the-art security system I’ve ever seen, rivaling the vault at Beaufort Diamonds flagship store on Fifth Avenue.

Denver had to scan his retina to grant us access to the built-in garage that the house sits on top of.

We could be anywhere. It’s peaceful, surrounded by forest for miles.

The roads are small and twist beneath the trees, leading to small country towns that are a world away from the city lights of Manhattan.

We passed through one a few miles back on the drive here.

If I’d blinked, I would have missed it. It’s probably the closest civilization for hours.

I don’t get it. He must come here more than I realized. Or at least, he did before he got assigned to me.

Lifting one of the photo frames that caught my eye when we arrived, I study it as I sip my water.

The woman in it is beautiful. Blue eyes, light brown hair in a ponytail, a smattering of freckles on her nose.

Freckles that match that grinning little girl in her arms. Her hair is darker, a deep chestnut like Denver’s.

And her eyes… they’re the same green as his too.

He walks inside, and his eyes drop to the frame.

“Sorry.” I place it down on the bookshelf behind the couch.

“It’s fine.” He walks past me and to the kitchen, filling a glass with water and downing it in one. He fills it back up again and drinks the second one, the muscles in his neck contracting with each gulp.

“Who are they?” I ask.

“Dixie.” His expression softens. “And her mom’s name is Lizzie.”

“How old is she?”

His eyes meet mine. “She’ll be seven soon.”

“Oh.” I look back at the photo. Seven years ago would have been just before he came to work for my father. “Who is she?—?”

“We’ve rested long enough. Let’s go again.” He puts the glass he’s finished down on the side heavily. The bang makes me jump.

My muscles are already screaming at me that they’ve had enough, but there’s no way I’m admitting that to him. If he tells my father, then I’ll be lucky to make it out of here this year, let alone in time for my show next week.

“Sure. Bring it,” I say as I walk toward the gym ahead of him. “I was going easy on you before, just so you know. I won’t this time.”

“I know,” he clips. “Time for you to get serious with me.”

Something about the deep promise in his words makes warm tingles shoot up my spine as I walk onto the matted area where we’ve been training. I spin to face him, but he’s not there.

“You can’t give your opponent any weakness they can exploit,” he scolds as he kneels at my feet and does up the lace on my sneaker that has worked its way loose.

He finishes tying it and then stands, his eyes fixing on mine. “You ready?”

But I’m already lunging for him.

The room spins as he takes me off my feet for the sixth time today and brings his full body weight down on top of me as my back hits the mat.

“Sinclair,” he tuts like he’s annoyed.

I shove at his face, pushing my palm over it and forcing his head back, my nails resting against his forehead where I could scratch his eyes if this were real.

“That’s better,” he praises. “Fight me.”

I push with all my might, my body thrashing beneath his as he presses down onto me harder, pinning me beneath him with his hips. No matter how much I buck and push at his face, he doesn’t move. It’s like having a stone wall against me.

“You need to find a weakness,” he says calmly, completely unaffected by my attack. “You were on the right track going for my groin earlier. Eyes are another target. Dig your fingers in, gouge them, ignore the blood.”

“Eww.” I wrinkle my nose.

“Sinclair,” he growls, his eyes intent on mine as he flexes his hips, pushing me harder into the mat to make his point. “If they’re on you like this, do whatever you can to get back onto your feet where you’re less vulnerable. Got it?”

I ball my hands into fists and pummel at his solid chest, but all it does is leave me panting.

“God! I hate you!” I squeal in frustration.

His eyes burn into mine. “Quit throwing pathetic punches at my chest and think,” he grits. “On size alone, I have the advantage. What else can you?—”

The hiss that leaves his lips as I grab the hair at the back of his head and yank it is an impressed one.

“That’s better. Good girl.”

“Ugh. Don’t be so fucking patronizing!”

I swear his lips curl into the ghost of a smirk. And something about it coupled with his words spurs me on. I wrench my arm so hard that I’m surprised I don’t pull the soft strands straight out of his skull.

“That’s my girl,” he grits, his eyes flashing darkly as his head is yanked back.

“I’m not your girl!” I scream.

“No, you’re not. But someone attacking you might force you to be. They could try and do whatever the hell they wanted to you.”

My eyes widen and my grip on his hair loosens as what he means sinks in.

“Don’t stop,” he instructs, so infuriatingly calm, knowing he has me at his mercy.

I stare up at him as anger courses through me, setting my muscles on fire.

“Fuck you!” I snarl, yanking his hair again. I shove at his face with my other hand and manage to get my fingers inside his mouth. I curl them around his lower jaw and pull. The air leaves my lungs and I fight to keep up the pressure as my body screams at me to take a break.

The weight of his body leaves mine as he extracts himself from my grip easily. I stare up at him, my chest heaving as he stands.

“That’s good. You’ve got fight, Sinclair. Now we need to channel it to where it’ll benefit you the most. You don’t need to be the strongest in a fight. You need to be the smartest.”

I roll over and leap to my feet.

“You let me go!” I snap.

“You needed a rest.” Denver’s eyes hold mine as I struggle to control my panting, hating that he’s right. I’m nowhere near as fit as him.