Chapter Ten
London
“Again,” Katia orders without glancing up from her blade. “That was pathetic, and you know it.”
I grunt and throw another punch, causing the boxing bag to swing a little.
“Harder,” Katia instructs. I feel her eyes on me, but I ignore her. “Just because Nadia isn’t around doesn’t mean I’ll take it easy on you, Princess.”
I know Katia is taunting me by dangling the promise of her colleague, but she’s right.
I want her to be the one handing my ass back to me.
Nadia is skilled, almost as good as Katia, but without an axe to grind with me.
Although I’ve only pieced together a few snippets of the assassin’s friend, what I have learned is enough to make me realize how insane it all is.
Having a former Russian spy as my trainer isn’t what I had in mind, especially not someone who specializes in blank stares and grunts.
Knowing Katia, you can’t be all that surprised that this is who she chose. You told her you wanted someone good and discreet.
I picture the two of them sharpening blades together in the wilderness somewhere, and it fills me with unease.
All it takes is one wrong move for Katia to sic her friend on me.
Suddenly, going to Katia for help doesn’t seem like the inspired idea it was, not when Nadia is even more temperamental than her friend.
I pause to wipe away the thin sheen of sweat. “This is you taking it easy on me?”
Katia scoffs. “If I wanted to, I’d have you curled up on the floor trying to breathe through the pain, and there would be more than a few bruises on you.”
I ignore the lurch in my stomach and lift my arms. “Noted.”
I’m not in the mood for Katia—or anyone else—today.
All I can think about is Elise fucking Thayer, and how she looked tucked into Mason’s side with her dark eyes roaming over him intently.
I throw a few more punches and wince when pinpricks of pain race up and down my arms. “Why aren’t you fighting me?”
Katia leans back and crosses her ankles. “It wouldn’t be a fight, and I’ve got better things to do.”
“Yeah, like look at your blade,” I spread my legs shoulder-width apart and pause. Then, I square my shoulders and throw one punch after the other until my hands ache and my lungs are burning. My breath comes out in short puffs as I lift a leg and do a side kick that barely moves the punching bag.
Growling, I use my other leg to kick and grimace when I nearly fall backward.
A twinge in my lower back has me shifting from one foot to the other and bracing my hands on either side of me. I inhale deeply and wait for the ringing in my ears to quiet. Slowly, I glance over at Katia, who is leaning against the wall and watching me.
“What?”
“Anger motivates you.”
I scowl and turn away from her. “No, it doesn’t.”
Katia strolls over to me. “It wasn’t a question, Princess. It was a statement. Something has you riled up.”
I bite back the retort.
Am I that obvious?
Or am I not hiding my feelings as well as I’d like?
Katia stops a few inches away from me. “Don’t favor one leg. Make sure you’re transferring your weight often, and don’t come in hard at the beginning. It’s about how well you hit, not how often.”
I rear back, landing a punch squarely to the bag. “Fine.”
Katia chuckles. “Who knew it was so easy to get under your skin? Let me guess. It was seeing the Thayer heir yesterday, wasn’t it? There’s been rumors about her and Mason for years, you know.”
“Shut up.” I pause to swat away an errant lock of hair. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Katia inches closer. “Don’t I? I mean, I can’t blame you. She’s fucking gorgeous, and she comes from money.”
I throw my leg out, and Katia catches it in midair. “Let go.”
Katia tightens her grip. “She’s also from his world, so it makes sense for them to be thrown together.”
I squirm and try to pull back my leg. “Just because it makes sense on paper doesn’t mean it’ll work in the real world.”
I’m living proof of that.
I walked away from Noah, a nice and stable guy I could’ve had a normal relationship with, for a man like Mason.
Even my parents think I’ve gone insane, but I won’t let any of it get to me.
Not the frustration, not the fear, and definitely not the jealousy.
So what if Mason has a past?
It will keep being flaunted in your face, even if you don’t go looking for it. It’s everywhere.
Another image of Elise and Mason with their heads bent together flashes to mind before I shove it away.
Katia releases my leg. “Good. Channel that anger and put it to good use.”
“I know what you’re trying to do.” I throw another punch that Katia intercepts. “If you’re not going to help, get out of my way.”
Katia releases my arm and rolls her shoulders. “Alright, Princess. Let’s see how quick of a study you are.”
She peels off her jacket.
Her expression is one of schooled boredom as she points at me.
I inhale and, on the count of five, I charge her.
Katia sidesteps me easily, and I sail past her, skidding to a halt a few feet away. When I wheel around, red-hot anger pumps through me.
She’s toying with me, and I hate her for it.
I charge again, but this time, I feign right and land a punch to her right. Without missing a beat, Katia pivots and kicks out her leg. The breath leaves my body as I crash to the floor and pain blossoms behind my eyelids.
Everything hurts.
But it still won’t drive away the images haunting me.
I hate that Elise is everything I’m not and that she gets to be with Mason in public while I have to hide away like some dirty little secret.
You know it’s not up to Mason. It’s just business.
When I open my eyes, Katia is looming over me, her expression blank. “Get up.”
On trembling legs, I push myself up and exhale. “You’re losing your touch. Is that all you got?”
Katia throws her head back and laughs. “You really are pathetic.”
I launch at Katia’s middle. She stops laughing when I wrap both arms around her waist and pull. She shoves me back, and I stagger, the whistling in my ears growing.
Suddenly, all I’m picturing is Katia in Mason’s study.
All I see are her long fingers tracing a path down his bare back. I taste bile as I imagine her throwing her head back and moaning as Mason thrusts in and out of her. I shove the image away and launch myself at Katia again.
“Enough.” Katia throws out a hand to stop me. “You need to learn your limits.”
I growl, my breath coming out in short puffs. “You don’t get to tell me when I’ve had enough. And stop holding back.”
Katia’s eyes bore into me. “No.”
“Come on, isn’t this what you wanted? Now’s your chance. You can hit me right now, and Mason wouldn’t be able to do a thing.”
I try for her middle again, but it’s no use.
I’m never going to beat her.
But I don’t care.
I want to feel anything other than despair and helplessness clawing their way inside of me, making me want to rip my hair out.
What good is it going to do me anyway?
You’re never going to compare to any of them. Not even Miss Deveroux who had the skill and discretion needed to land Mason, and Katia knows how to give him what he wants in the bedroom. What do you have to offer, other than a headache, and throwing their alliance into an uproar?
I don’t realize that I’m attacking Katia until she wraps her arms around me to hold me still.
The blood is still roaring in my ears, but I can’t stop.
Finally, Katia releases me.
When her fist connects with my face, I feel a sickening crunch and stumble backward. Then, I taste blood in my mouth and feel it ooze from my nose. Wordlessly, she crosses over to me and hands me a towel.
I press it against my nose and wince. “I knew you wanted to do that.”
Katia shrugs. “You asked for it. I’ll get you an ice pack. Don’t move.”
As she leaves, I sink into the nearest chair, my anger gone, replaced by a deep sense of shame and frustration.
I tilt my head back and inhale mouthfuls of air.
When Katia returns, she’s got a clean towel in one hand and an ice pack in the other.
Hissing, I force myself to my feet and let the blood-soaked towel fall to the floor.
“It’s not broken.” Katia hands me the new towel. “But it’s going to hurt like hell in a bit.”
I snatch the towel from her hand. “Whatever.”
For a long while, neither of us says anything as I wait for my breathing to return to normal.
Every inch of my body aches as Katia leads us out of the basement and follows at a safe distance until I reach Mason’s room. A first-aid kit is waiting for me inside, but I storm past it and into the bathroom.
I hop into the shower, stand under the head, and try not to imagine Mason with anyone else.
Steam fills the room as I secure a towel around my chest and pad out of the bathroom.
After wadding up strips of cotton, I shove them up my nose and breathe through my mouth.
Gingerly, I change into a clean pair of yoga pants and a cotton shirt.
I take a few sips of water and reach for the laptop on the dresser.
Grimacing, I ignore my mangled reflection on the screen and drum my fingers on the desk. The laptop boots up, and I wait impatiently for a search webpage to load. I type in Elise Thayer’s name. Her image pops up, and regret floods my veins.
Katia is right.
She’s got movie-star looks and style to match.
And her net worth is more than I’ll make in ten lifetimes.
The more I scroll, the worse I feel until I have a pounding headache. An hour later, I push my chair back and stand up. I shove my arms into a hoodie and pull the hood down, so it conceals half my face.
Katia doesn’t say anything when I emerge.
At the bottom of the stairs, I turn to face her, ignoring the pain blossoming in my face. “I’m going to the club.”
“There’s a table in the back you can use.”
In silence, she leads me from the manor and into the late afternoon air. A warm breeze drifts past us as we cross the lawn that separates the estate from the business complex. I try not to think about the fact that none of Mason’s men stop us as we stride past.