Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
CRESSIDA
A listening device?
Who the fuck plants a listening device on someone who isn’t an enemy?
How the hell did he do that without me finding it?
As soon as I arrive home, I pull out my things, and sure enough, a small device drops to the floor. I pick it up, and sure enough, it’s small and easy to blend in. Asshole.
What else did he hear? It’s not like I talk to many people. And there hasn’t been any indication or mention from him about anything else. He always seemed to show up when I was masturbating. And I still don’t have my vibrator back, which pisses me off.
Unsure of what to do with the device, I consider flushing it down the toilet. But for some reason, I slip it into my phone case and leave it there.
Maybe I like him listening.
Maybe I’ll keep it going for a little while longer and play with him.
It’s only fair, right?
He intruded into my space. Granted, I did the same to him first, but at least mine was for work.
After removing my clothes, I climb into the shower.
The water beats down, hot enough to sting, but I welcome it.
Maybe it can wash away the thoughts I can’t seem to escape.
As I wash myself, I think of him. I spoke to my sisters a lot about Soren.
They never seemed to stop asking about him.
And I get it. He’s a well-known businessman, and he’s one of the most eligible bachelors there is right now.
And Izzy seems to think he only has eyes for me.
I strongly disagree with her, but tonight at the party, I could feel his stare burning into my back for a good thirty minutes before I finally turned around.
And when I saw him, it was confirmed that he was indeed watching me.
I never once thought this would be the outcome of my trying to do a story on him.
He’s attractive, sure. You would have to be blind not to see that, but he always seemed so out of reach, a world above mine.
Yet, somehow, now he is attainable, and he keeps showing up in my life.
Keeps on making my stupid heart flutter at the sight of him.
I hate it.
And I love it at the same time.
My love for Noah grew slowly, and he gave me time to fall for him.
With Soren, it feels like I’m crashing in waves, struggling to breathe, and can’t get up. He keeps pushing me back under, at the same time giving me his breath to breathe.
It’s fucked.
And I need to make it stop.
But even as I turn off the water, I can still feel him on my skin. It’s like no amount of scrubbing could ever get him off me.
Oliver has been nagging me about training with Soren.
Noah even brought it up, asking if he could attend one of the first training sessions.
I never actually agreed to it, but when I saw Soren in the office yesterday, I asked him about it, and he told me to bring Oliver to the gym where he trains tonight.
Now standing outside, the air smells faintly of sweat and disinfectant, with the thud of gloves against punching bags echoing softly through the walls.
My stomach twists, and it’s not from nerves, but from not knowing which version of Soren I might face tonight.
The one who looks at me like I’m already his, or the one who pretends I don’t exist.
Noah is already there, holding Oliver’s hand, when I walk in.
The gym looks quiet for a weeknight, the hum of fluorescent lights filling the silence between us.
Oliver can’t stop smiling as I walk up to them, his excitement radiating through the air.
He is utterly unaware of the tension curling inside me.
“He’s good for this?” Noah asks.
“He said so,” I reply.
I didn’t see Soren at work today, so I couldn’t confirm with him. I’ve actually only seen him once this week, and I’ve heard it’s normal for him to be out of the office often, as he runs multiple businesses.
Layla told me, and I quote, “He hires reliable people like you to run the businesses, and he stops in periodically to check on things.” If he thinks I’m reliable, I guess I’ll take it.
As soon as I look around, I see Soren in the middle of the ring. He’s shirtless, with a pair of jeans hanging loosely on his waist. There is a man opposite him who is holding up pads as he punches them.
Oliver appears to be awestruck. His eyes are large and round, almost sparkling, as he stares at Soren in the ring. He’s never found a sport he loves, but by the way he’s watching Soren, I think it may actually be boxing.
“He’s good, Cressida,” Noah says, eyeing Soren. Maybe he’s a little in love with him too. I giggle to myself internally at that thought.
The man in the ring with Soren notices us first, and he motions for Soren to stop. He says something to Soren, who then glances behind him to find us waiting. His gaze moves to Oliver, then Noah, before landing on me, where it stays.
“You came,” he says.
I take Oliver’s hand. “If you still have time and are willing, Oliver would love a few pointers.” Soren turns back to the man assisting him and says something, and the man leaves the ring.
“Of course. Care to get up here with me, little man?” Oliver nods his head eagerly as he climbs into the ring. “We have to warm up first, okay? You should always make sure your muscles are ready for whatever you are about to do.”
Oliver hangs on every single word Soren says to him.
Noah and I stand back as we watch them warm up, then the man from earlier comes out with a pair of small boxing gloves and hands them to Oliver.
“Oliver likes him,” Noah comments, and I nod. I know he does. The way he watches Soren and listens to him… He never listens to us that intently. With a glow in his eyes, as if he’s eating up every single word. “And he certainly keeps you on your toes,” he jokes.
I hear Soren tell him not to use any of these moves on anyone, and Oliver nods in agreement.
We stay there for a good hour, until Oliver starts getting tired.
Soren notices and pats him on the shoulder, telling him he did a good job.
Oliver climbs down and immediately runs up to us.
We tell him he did a fantastic job, and he thanks Soren again before Noah takes him home.
“Get up here,” Soren says to me.
“Why would I do that?” I ask. Looking around, I notice there’s no one else in the gym. “Why is it so empty?”
“Because I told everyone to leave.”
“You have that power?”
“Yes, it’s my gym.” He holds out a hand to me, and I take it. Then he helps me climb between the ropes, and as soon as my heels hit the ring, he bends down and starts removing them. “Barefoot in my ring, please.” I let him take them off, and he places them to the side.
“Spread your feet, dominant foot slightly back,” he instructs, and I do as he says, even wearing a skirt, which he finds amusing. “Curl your fingers tightly into your palms, elbows tucked in.” He touches my elbow. “Now, try to hit me.”
I relax my hands and shake my head. “I’m not hitting you.”
“Hurricane, you won’t be able to land a blow, so throw those punches.” And the cocky bastard winks.
Fuck it! I ball my hands into fists and swing at him. And just like he anticipated, I completely missed. A smile plays on his lips, and it makes me even madder. I’ve been in many fights, mainly with my sisters, but I’ve never gone toe-to-toe with someone who has actual boxing experience.
I adjust my stance, then indicate for him to come closer with a crook of my finger.
He raises a brow, and at first, I don’t think he’ll do it.
But as he steps closer to me, I keep my eyes trained on his, and I reach around his neck with one hand.
He allows it because it means I’m pressing against his body.
He thinks I’m going to kiss him, but that’s not what I’m going to do at all.
As my fingers skim the back of his neck, I punch him hard in his stomach with my other fist. He grunts loudly, then a slow and sinister smile curves at the edges of his lips.
And I know I made a mistake.
The blow probably didn’t even affect him.
But then I remember how he was injured, and my hands fly to my mouth.
“I’m sorry! Shit, are you okay? I forgot about your injuries,” I fret.
He grabs me around the waist, and I’m helpless to stop him as he lifts me and then lowers me to the floor so he’s now hovering over me, his knees bracketing me in, but not touching, and yet I feel him everywhere.
“I’m fine.”
“But your ribs,” I say, and without thinking, my hands go to his ribs. He doesn’t flinch at my touch.
His gray eyes seem to soak in all the features of my face, and the way he’s looking at me makes me a little insecure. That is, until he cups my cheek, and I instantly feel something more than I should.
“I’ll be fine,” he assures me. “You’re sneaky, though. Stabbing people, distracting them, and then using your powers.” He winks.
“Whatever it takes to win,” I say.
“Is that right?”
“Yup. Now let me up,” I tell him.
“Now, why would I do a thing like that?”
“Because…”
“Because?” he questions, his attention locked on my lips.
I have nothing left to give.
His gaze won’t stop flicking between my lips and eyes, as if he’s asking for permission.
“Soren,” someone says.
His body tenses. I feel it under my palm. He’s on his feet in a flash, holding his hand out to help me up. I set my palm in his, and he pulls me up.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” he says to me, then turns in the direction of the voice.
I peer around him at Maya, who is standing there. She usually has a judgmental expression when she sees Soren with me, but right now, she looks lost.
But I won’t pity her.
No, she doesn’t deserve that from me.
“Maya, what are you doing here?” he asks.
“It’s been weeks, Soren. You have to forgive me,” she pleads.
She appears quite pale, almost sickly, and her hair is greasy and lifeless around her face. She looks miserable.
“What you did was unforgivable,” he tells her.
I glance at him and then back to her. She’s crying now, and they seem to be real tears.
“I would never have hurt him. I only wanted you to remember how important family is. We are important to each other, as Cressida and her son. We have a bond.”
He tenses at her words, but doesn’t back down.
“We are not the same as them. I am not your father, Maya. I have helped you enough, and I can’t keep doing it. It’s unhealthy for both of us.”
I see the tight line of his jaw, the way his hands clench at his sides.
It’s clear this isn’t easy for him. Without thinking, I reach out, my hand brushing against his.
He takes it without hesitation. In that simple touch, I feel the weight of what he’s doing, drawing a line, protecting us both, even if it hurts him.
For the first time, I understand just how much this means to him.
And suddenly, my anger toward Maya fades, replaced with something softer, a quiet gratitude for the man standing firm beside me.