Chapter 3 Riley
THREE
RILEY
Afternoon light slanted through the single window of Riley's cramped office, casting harsh shadows across the chaos that had become her professional life.
The stacks of paperwork scattered across her desk felt like accusations rather than tools—evidence of her failure to maintain the systems that had once made her gym run smoothly.
Riley hunched over the mess and felt her shoulders tighten with anxiety she refused to acknowledge.
Sleep had been elusive last night, her mind churning about today's financial consultation.
Every time she'd closed her eyes, she'd imagined some polished expert dissecting her failures with clinical precision.
The folders Trent had meticulously created and arranged during their relationship now lay in disarray, their neat labels mocking her attempts at independence.
She'd abandoned his system six months ago, convinced she could devise something better.
The evidence spread before her suggested otherwise—membership numbers scribbled in three different notebooks, supplier invoices mixed with equipment maintenance receipts, everything present but nothing professional or organized.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she gathered another stack of papers. This gym represented everything she'd built for herself—brick by brick, class by class, fight by fight. The thought of some stranger evaluating her life's work made her stomach clench with protective fury.
From outside her office door came the familiar sounds of her world functioning without her—the rhythmic thud of gloves hitting heavy bags, the encouraging shouts of Lila pushing students, and the low murmur of conversations between sets.
Her mother and Lila were covering for her again, handling the front desk and floor supervision so she could prepare for this meeting.
That knowledge twisted something uncomfortable in her chest. She hated needing help. Hated that her fierce independence had crumbled into reliance on others to keep her dream alive.
Riley dropped the final folder onto her desk with more force than necessary, the sound sharp in the confined space. Fifteen minutes. That's all she was giving this Adrian Kael character. Fifteen minutes of polite consultation before she thanked him and showed him the door.
A soft knock interrupted her spiraling thoughts, followed by her mother's familiar voice.
"Riley? Your guests are here."
The word 'guests' made her jaw tighten instantly, as if this were some friendly social visit instead of a necessary evil. She straightened the papers one last time, knowing they'd never look professional enough to impress a financial expert.
"Send them in."
Irritation simmered beneath her skin before the door even opened. She'd already constructed an image in her mind—some smug consultant in an expensive suit ready to explain all the ways she was failing at running her own life.
Let him try.
The door swung open, and the first person to enter completely shattered her grumpy mood.
Gerri Wilder swept into the room like warm sunlight made human, her confidence filling the cramped space with easy grace.
Her snow-white bob caught the afternoon light, and her designer pantsuit somehow managed to look both professional and approachable.
"Well hello again, darling."
The genuine warmth in Gerri's voice disarmed Riley more than she'd anticipated. For a moment, her defensive walls wavered, and she almost allowed herself to relax.
Then someone stepped in behind Gerri, and the entire atmosphere of the room shifted.
The man who entered looked like he'd stepped off the cover of a fitness magazine—all broad shoulders and controlled power wrapped in a blue button-down shirt that stretched across muscles earned through discipline, not vanity.
His dark auburn hair caught the light, and when his gaze found hers, Riley felt the impact like a physical jab.
His eyes were the deepest blue she'd ever seen, flecked with gold that seemed to flicker with an inner fire. The intensity of his stare made her breath catch in her throat, and her carefully constructed composure cracked under the weight of his attention.
For one endless moment, Riley forgot how breathing worked.
Adrian Kael stopped mid-step, his own composure faltering as their eyes locked. Something electric sparked between them, filling the small office with a tension that had nothing to do with business consultations.
The silence stretched with unspoken recognition that she didn't completely understand.
Gerri's amused voice sliced through the charged atmosphere like a blade through silk.
"Well now, if you two are done staring at each other like deer in headlights..." Her smile turned positively mischievous, as if she'd orchestrated this exact moment and was thoroughly pleased with the results. "...perhaps we should start this consultation before the afternoon disappears entirely."
Heat flooded Riley's cheeks as awareness crashed over her.
She'd been staring at this man like some starstruck teenager instead of the professional businesswoman she was supposed to be.
Mortification warred with an inexplicable attraction that made her want to simultaneously flee the room and step closer to see if he smelled as intoxicating as he looked.
She pushed herself to her feet, her chair rolling backward to hit the wall behind her desk. The sound snapped her back to reality, reminding her why they were here and what was at stake.
"Right." Her voice came out rougher than intended, and she cleared her throat.
Riley forced herself to move around the desk with deliberate composure, each step calculated to project confidence she didn't entirely feel. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she extended her hand toward the imposing man who seemed to fill her cramped office with his presence.
"I'm Riley Vaughn, owner of Core Power and Fitness."
The words emerged steadier than the chaos churning inside her chest. Professional. Controlled. Exactly what this situation demanded.
Adrian stepped forward with fluid grace, his movement economical yet commanding. "Adrian Kael."
His voice was deep and measured, the kind that probably commanded boardrooms and bent lesser men to his will. But it was his eyes that undid her—those impossible blue depths that seemed to see straight through her carefully constructed defenses.
Their palms connected in a firm handshake.
But then the world exploded.
Heat raced up her arm like lightning crackling beneath her skin. Every nerve ending came alive at once, singing with recognition she couldn't name or understand. Her pulse spiked so violently she was certain he could hear it thundering in the sudden silence.
Riley's breath hitched involuntarily, and she had to swallow hard against the surge of sensation that threatened to buckle her knees.
In all her thirty-two years—through countless sparring matches, professional fights, and even the disaster with Trent—nothing had ever affected her like this.
One simple handshake had broken her composure more completely than any opponent ever had.
Adrian's expression shifted too, subtle but unmistakable.
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, those golden flecks in his eyes flaring brighter as if something primal had stirred awake inside him.
His grip lingered a heartbeat longer than professional courtesy required, his thumb brushing across her knuckles in a way that sent another jolt of electricity straight to her core.
What the hell is happening to me?
Before either of them could process the moment—or worse, acknowledge it aloud—Gerri's delighted voice sliced through the charged air.
"Well, I'm glad to see such instant chemistry," she said cheerfully, clapping her hands together with obvious satisfaction. "But perhaps we should focus on the reason we're here."
The spell shattered. Riley jerked her hand back as if she'd been burned, which wasn't far from the truth. Her palm still tingled with phantom heat, and she had to resist the urge to flex her fingers to dispel the lingering sensation.
She retreated behind her desk like it was a fortress wall, gesturing toward the two mismatched chairs she'd positioned in front of it. The cramped space felt even more suffocating with these two commanding presences filling every inch of available air.
"Please, sit."
Riley gathered the stack of paperwork she'd prepared, her hands trembling as she passed the folders across the desk. She knew it was a pathetic attempt at professional documentation.
Adrian accepted the papers with those long, capable fingers that had just wreaked havoc on her nervous system. He studied the contents for a long moment, his expression unreadable as he flipped through invoices, membership records, and her scattered attempts at financial tracking.
Then his brows drew together in a way that caused her stomach to drop.
"This… isn't much to work with."
His words hit like a slap. Riley had known her bookkeeping was subpar, but hearing this powerful, intimidating man dismiss her efforts so bluntly made embarrassment flood her cheeks with heat.
Here she was, a nationally recognized kickboxing champion, being made to feel like an incompetent child by someone she'd met five minutes ago.
Her defenses snapped into place instantly, armor she'd perfected through years of protecting herself from disappointment.
"I know my bookkeeping isn't perfect," she said, her voice cooler than the afternoon air. "But it's functional."
Adrian flipped through another folder, his expression growing more skeptical with each page. The careful way he handled her disorganized records made her feel exposed, as if he could see every failure and shortcoming laid bare in those scattered documents.
"I can't give you meaningful financial advice with this kind of incomplete information."