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There’s no judgment in his question, just honest curiosity.
“No. But it makes me feel good.” And sometimes, that’s reason enough to do something. Or not do something.
He huffs a laugh, and I can just about read his mind. Typical Gabe.
I’ve always been all about what feels right and not what makes the best business sense. And I’ve made a shit ton of money, even though I haven’t done what the Harvard-educated businessmen would tell me to.
It probably chaps their asses that I’ve made billions off an idea, hard work, and gut instinct.
But honestly, I don’t think about them. My competition.
I do, however, think about Henry Chanler. Mostly the way he moved in on me, making me feel like he was a friend. A mentor. Fuck. Like the grandfather I always wanted.
And then, when I wouldn’t turn over my brainchild, he tried to use every last trick to drive me and my company into the ground.
Alex tosses the ball to me, and we round the corner to one of the main training areas. I spin the basketball on the tip of my finger as I glance around the gym. Rows of equipment dot the room, and the wall of windows lets in the early morning light. It smells like rubber, sweat, and grease.
In the corner, a shock of red hair draws my attention.
My footsteps falter.
I can’t help it.
She grunts as she drives her fists into the punching bag.
Katherine Montgomery is a work of art. And she’s got a brain to match.
If only her grandfather wasn’t the dick who tried to take me down. If only she wasn’t as prickly as a cactus.
Alex plows into my shoulder and utters an apology.
Then he lets out a soft whistle that’s totally unlike him. I cut him a look and raise a brow.
“What got into her?” he whispers.
He’s not wrong. She’s furious. Glorious.
Bright pink splotches dot her cheeks. Her long, copper locks are swept up into a ponytail that swings with every punch. A deep red sports bra clings to high, heavenly breasts and a matching shade of leggings mold to her curvy hips and make her legs look a mile long.
Gods, she’s gorgeous.
“No idea,” I say.
But it’s obvious.
Someone did her wrong.
Her gaze collides with mine, and her fist misses the punching bag.
For a split second, I let myself enjoy it. Her missing the bag because I snagged her attention. But then her frown turns to an all-out scowl, and I have a feeling I’ll pay for it during our next board meeting.
I’ve never seen her look anything other than completely composed. An ice queen. Her light blue-green eyes have locked on me with cool disdain more than once.
My gut tightens.
An urge builds inside me: swift, possessive, foreign.
I tuck the basketball under my arm and move toward the water fountain. Bending down, I hit the button and take a long pull from the stream.
