Chapter Ten

The training room was colder than I expected.

Sleek floors, black mats, steel shelves lined with weapons I wasn’t sure I wanted to learn how to use. Jillian stood near the center, sleeves rolled up, looking like sin with a holster clipped to his belt.

“You’re early,” he said as I stepped in.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

He nodded toward the wall. “Pick your weapon.”

My eyes widened. “You’re letting me choose?”

“No,” he smirked. “But I wanted to see what you’d reach for first.”

I walked slowly along the shelf, fingers ghosting over blades, brass knuckles, and a row of glinting pistols.

I stopped in front of one with a black matte finish.

“This one,” I said.

“Beretta,” Jillian said behind me. “You’ve got good instincts.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I’m always surprised when people show me they’re more than they seem.”

I turned to face him. “And what do you think I am?”

He stepped closer. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

His nearness made my heart pound, but I covered it with a shrug. “Teach me.”

He raised a brow, then took the pistol from me and showed it to me piece by piece. How to load it. How to aim. How to breathe.

“You’re shaking,” he said quietly, standing behind me as he adjusted my grip.

“It’s cold.”

“No, it’s not.”

He pressed his chest lightly against my back, adjusting my stance. “You’re not used to this. That’s okay.”

His hands were warm against mine. I didn’t know what to focus on more—the weight of the gun or the heat of him pressed behind me.

“Now aim,” he whispered.

I did.

“Good. Fire.”

The sound was deafening. I flinched, but the recoil wasn’t as bad as I expected.

“Again,” he said.

I fired.

And again.

And again.

Until I emptied the clip and my arms felt like they’d been set on fire.

I turned to him, breathless.

He just nodded. “Better than most rookies.”

“That was… kind of intense.”

“It’s supposed to be.”

We stood there for a second longer, neither of us moving.

Then I said, “What happens now?”

“I’ll show you something else.”

He led me to the mat in the center of the room.

“Combat training.”

“You want me to fight you?”

“I want you to try.”

“Jillian, I—”

“Hit me.”

I stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Go on,” he said, standing there with his arms loose by his sides. “You’ve wanted to since the day we met.”

I exhaled hard, then aimed a hit toward his chest.

He caught my wrist mid-air.

“Again.”

I did.

This time I got close—enough to graze his collarbone before he spun me around and pinned my hands behind my back.

He leaned in close to my ear. “Too slow.”

I struggled, breath catching when I realized how close his mouth was to my neck.

“I hate you,” I muttered.

“You’re not the first.”

He released me and I turned to face him, chest heaving, face flushed.

“You’re enjoying this.”

He didn’t deny it.

“I like watching you fight,” he said.

I stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “You like control.”

“And you like challenging it.”

Something electric buzzed between us.

“Tell me to stop,” he said suddenly.

“What?”

“If you don’t want this—whatever this is—tell me to stop.”

My breath caught.

“I… don’t want you to stop.”

The space between us vanished in seconds. His hands gripped my hips and my back hit the mirror behind me as his mouth crashed onto mine.

This kiss was nothing like the last.

It was harder. More desperate.

Like he was losing a battle with himself.

I kissed him back with everything I had, clinging to his shirt, moaning when he tilted my head back and deepened it.

“You drive me insane,” he murmured against my lips.

“Good,” I whispered, eyes fluttering shut.

He pulled back just enough to look at me. “You don’t get it. I can’t think when you’re around.”

“Then don’t think.”

We kissed again, slower this time. His hands roamed up my back, stopping just below my shoulder blades.

But just when I felt my body melt into him—

Knock knock knock.

The door.

Again.

Jillian groaned against my skin. “Who the hell—?”

He stormed to the door and yanked it open.

A guard stood there, pale. “Sir, we have a problem.”

Jillian’s voice was sharp. “What now?”

“We found something under the lady’s bed.”

I froze.

Jillian turned to me. “Stay here.”

“Jillian—”

“I mean it.”

But I didn’t stay.

I followed.

We entered my room, and I watched as the guard lifted the mattress and pulled out a tiny black device.

A listening bug.

I felt sick.

Jillian turned to the guard. “Has anyone touched it?”

“No, sir.”

He inspected it, eyes darkening. “This tech isn’t cheap.”

Joseph walked in behind us, already in a sharp suit. “We traced the signal.”

Jillian didn’t look away from the bug. “And?”

“It’s coming from somewhere in the city. Abandoned high-rise.”

“Get the car,” Jillian said.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Jillian looked at me, his face unreadable.

“You’ve been bugged,” he said. “And now, we’re going to find out why.”