TWENTY-NINE
Harry
Even when I force myself to look away from her, her reflection is in the mirrors on the four walls, taunting me. It’s like a shrinking box tugging me closer to her. And if it’s not those big eyes drawing me in, it’s the shape of her body in gym wear. The way the material clings to her hips and thighs sends my emotions haywire.
“You punch like a girl.”
“I am a girl!” she spits back, flustered.
This whole “training” malarkey has ended up being a huge pain in my ass. My fists aren’t the only thing I’m putting up to improve her defence and attack skills – my cock’s getting a massive workout too. The levels of restraint I’ve had to exhibit over the past few hours are unlike anything I’ve ever known.
Gigi is in nothing more than gym shorts and a sports bra that brings my sight straight to her chest —
For fuck’s sake, I just looked again.
Sex is out of the question. It’s most definitely not even worth considering. But what if—
I start reciting UK Prime Ministers to bring myself off the ledge.
When I block another one of her advances on the pad, she huffs out in frustration and pushes back a loose strand of hair with the underside of her glove.
“Why can’t we do hand-to-hand instead?” she argues, growing tired. “We’ve been doing this all day, and boxing might not even be one of the tasks I’ll face.”
“Possibly not.” I shrug. “I want a jab, cross, left hook combo, quick succession.”
“No way.” She shakes her head, puffing out a heavy breath. “I’m giving up for today.”
Barging past me, she storms over to the rack of gym equipment, undoing a glove and ripping the ties of the other one loose with her teeth.
She’s right. Boxing might not be on the agenda for her, but not training for the possibility is a risk I’m not willing to take. I know she can handle herself – she had Jack as a trainer, for fuck’s sake – but you can’t just throw around punches and elbows in boxing. There’s a precise set of rules she’ll have to follow. If she doesn’t practise combinations and blocking, she’ll unleash all her anger in the first round and drain herself before the bell has even rung.
Word around the block is that Poppy’s been taking up a few extra sessions in the sparring gym, and I wouldn’t put it past her to take pride in punching Gigi in the face at any given opportunity. It’s nothing new that Poppy is threatened by Gigi’s arrival. I’m certain she’s desperate to knock her off the pedestal.
I stalk towards Gigi, pointing at her as I rip off both pads. “We’re not done here.”
When I reach her, she spins and knocks me off my feet in one movement. The surprise has me tumbling backwards onto the padded mat. In an instant she pins my body to the floor, restricting my throat with her forearm.
She grins with pride. “I don’t need training to defend myself, pretty boy.”
If I wasn’t so turned on, I’d comment on her technique. Instead I taunt, “Element of surprise. Cute.”
This angers her.
Slipping her hand behind her, she quickly pulls a knife out from the back of her shorts and brings it down to my neck as if it’s some sort of fucking game.
“Where the fuck did you get a knife?”
She smirks. “The kitchen.”
That corrupt little monster.
“The problem is, baby …” I bring my head up, ignoring the nick of the blade against my skin as I skim my lips dangerously close to hers. “I don’t care if you kill me. As long as your pretty hands are the last thing to touch my body, then I’ll die a happy man.”
No matter how much the feel of her lips scrambles my senses, I refuse to miss a beat. Sending her body spiralling underneath me, I pin her pelvis down with mine, slipping the blade from her fingertips so easily it’s comical. With the knife still in hand, I pin her wrists above her head, and I see the moment her memories come flooding back. Her body bows off the floor and she squeezes her thighs around my hips as if she’s drunk on lust. I fight every instinct deep within my body to grind myself between her parted legs and feel how much she craves me.
As quickly as it appears, I watch the cloud of lust in her eyes evaporate. She huffs like I’ve aggravated her, pushing at my chest while she gets to her feet.
“You’re a dick.”
Propping my head up with the heel of my palm, I turn to my side and twirl the knife handle between the fingertips of my spare hand. “You’re the one who doesn’t want us to be together.”
Her back is turned to me as she digs through her bag, but I can picture her eyes rolling as she says, “I’m not prepared to break the rules. You shouldn’t be either.”
“Trust me, I know what your thoughts are.”
I hear the mumbling of profanities beneath her breath as she fastens the strap of the bag over her shoulder.
“Where do you think you’re going? ”
“None of your business.”
Fine.
We’re playing that game.
As she takes a step towards the door, I pinch the tip of the blade between my thumb and forefinger, squinting as I zero in on my target. Just as she dares a step forwards, I flick my wrist and let go of the knife, watching it fly through the air and land directly in front of her, barely missing her stomach.
She whips her head towards me, anger coursing through those pretty eyes. “HARRY!”
“I asked you a question, baby …”
“Stop calling me that!”
I tilt my head. “Stop calling you what?”
“That! You think this is easy for me?” She jabs a finger into her chest. “Trying to resist you?”
Her eyes meet mine, tired and tearful.
“Did you know it was Mia’s birthday yesterday?” Gigi asks, puffing out a slow, steady breath. “Her fucking birthday. And you know what I did? Nothing! I did nothing. I hate it, but this is the price I’m willing to pay if it means I can join. If Jack had—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I rise to my feet, barely containing my scoff. “You’re doing this for him? He’s not even around anymore.”
“Stop.”
“You can’t compete with a ghost! Trust me, he wouldn’t want this for you. If he knew for a second what you were about to go through—”
“STOP!” she shouts, throwing her bag to the floor.
I run a hand down my face in frustration. “You need to believe me.”
“How would you know what he wants?’
I meet her stare and see the glaze of tears sprinkled across her vision. It tugs at my heartstrings, knowing I caused that reaction. The last thing I want is to be the cause of her torture.
I exhale a breath and say, “Because he told me.”
“He … told you?”
I tear my gaze from hers. “Put the gloves back on.”
Her fists tighten at her sides. “No.”
“Put the gloves back on, and I’ll give you the answers you want.”
She glances over at where they lie abandoned on the floor and quickly squeezes her eyes shut before she can think better of it. Picking her bag back up, she holds it tight, placing it back on her shoulder. “Please don’t do this, Harry. Just let me go.”
Four words. An infinite number of meanings.
The issue is … I’d follow her for my entire life – even if I died trying.
The little monster and I are heading to Pixies tonight. It’ll be her first time visiting the place that reeks of champagne, money, and impending doom. It’s hard to explain the dress code for the club, but most men choose to wear a variation of formal attire. The Circle’s male recruits are forced to wear a strict dress code at galas and lavish events – black suits and white shirts so we’re easily plucked from the rest – but Pixies is free rein, so jeans and a shirt will fit the bill for this evening.
I wasn’t lying when I said Jack told me he didn’t want Gigi to be a part of this life. It’s been eating away at me since I confessed it to her, so I make myself a promise that when I see her next I’ll come clean. But when I knock at her new apartment and a quiet, “Come in,” sounds through the door, my steps falter .
The door is unlocked, and I make a mental note to complain about that later. She thinks she knows how to protect herself and she leaves her door unlocked? Not cool. And with how fucking breath-taking she looks in the reflection of the mirror, I wouldn’t put it past someone to snatch her at a moment’s notice.
Christ, she’s stunning.
My pulse quickens at the sight of her, and I’m forced to drop my head to stop myself from mentally undressing her. But from the way her body fills the dress and the fabric effortlessly shows the dip in her waist, the action is pointless.
I busy myself rolling up my shirtsleeves to my forearms. When I brave a look back at the mirror, she’s struggling with trying to fasten her necklace.
“May I?” I ask, my voice soft.
She passes me the necklace and I take it between my hands, struggling with the little clasp but persevering anyway. When I lean over her shoulder to bring the chain from the top of her chest to her neck, I inhale the scent of her perfume and my eyes threaten to roll at the sweetness.
“You look beautiful, if it isn’t completely obvious.”
“Thank you.”
There’s nothing overly special about the dress she’s wearing, but it doesn’t need to be – it’s the way she wears it that’s sensational. The little black dress is sophisticated, and it gives way to a square neckline and short sleeves that show off her glowing skin.
As if I don’t have control over my actions, my hand finds the back of her thigh. I flex my fingers before slipping my hand against her skin and pushing under the fabric of her dress, my fingertips skimming the silk of her underwear.
She tilts her head back onto my shoulder, struggling for breath, and when I discover her arousal we both release a breathless moan.
“Harry …” she whimpers .
I bring my other hand up the front of her body, over her chest, until I’m cupping her jaw, encouraging her to look at our reflection. Showing her what we could have. My fingers tease her slit, and she wraps her own tightly around my wrist.
“Tell Richard you’re quitting, and I’ll give you what you want.”
Anger overtakes the lust, and she turns back to me with drooped shoulders. Her lips form a thin line as she tries to act unfazed by the interaction.
“I hate you.”
“Your words say one thing and your pussy says another. You don’t hate me, baby.” I bring my fingers to my mouth, sucking with a twirl of my tongue.
Her posture straightens, and to the naked eye she’d look the picture of composure, but I know she’s flustered.
She tries to barge past me, but her movements halt as I say, “Jack talked about you a lot. He told me to never let you into this world. He knew what he was doing was wrong and he was lying to his whole family. He felt awful. Your brother cared about you so much, Gigi.”
She sniffs, and I raise my thumb to her cheek, catching the stray tear and savouring the feel of her.
“You haven’t asked me about him any further. And I won’t push you to talk until you’re ready. But I will say this … He said this place would be the death of you. He also said that if you somehow manage to succeed, you’re capable of being the greatest weapon we’ve ever seen.”