Page 62

“Are you really?” I muttered, slipping inside the ring, and he followed. “I’m not really a good fighter.” And I was only wearing his shirt, which covered half of me, but I didn’t know if it was appropriate in the fighting ring.

“Only a good killer then.” He smirked, shuffling to his side as he raised his arms in position. “Back first on the mat loses.”

I wasn’t lying when I said I really wasn’t the best at close combat, especially with someone trained in martial arts. He was going to be the real winner in a real fight, but I did have my slight advantage for his request.

“Okay,” I replied, walking back to the far corner. “Start.”

In the next second, he was on me, and I barely made it out of his hold as I slipped underneath his left arm and shuffled to the other side. I knew a boxer would be fast, but his legwork was so very impressive.

“Lucky.” He smiled before he pounced on me, and once again, I barely escaped his hand that hissed an inch away from my chin.

“I know,” I muttered as I watched his body for the slightest weakness with quick feet. Only his tempting body was a terrible distraction, and it was making my knees weak.

Arkane came at me once again, but he made the mistake of using the same move. Instead of slipping out, I glided behind his back and placed a quick power kick just above his right knee. He toppled forward, barely, but it was enough for me to block his left hook, lock his incoming wrist, and take him down with me.

His back went flying to the mat, but only for a second before he easily put me on my back, with my shirt pushed to the tops of my thighs as he locked me with his hips and legs.

“You only said first on the back.” I smiled, stifling a groan at the closeness of his heat. “Loser.”

“I admit my defeat.” He raised his hands, grinning. “Impressive for someone with tiny arms. Not much power, though.” He pinched my biceps.

“I don’t practice much strength. I only need enough for my blades,” I said. “I’d rather learn with my body than against it.”

His grin widened as he leaned closer, and my breath hitched when his nose almost met mine. “Next time, should we try with your blades?”

“You’ll definitely die,” I whispered, trying hard not to blush, but I knew I was failing terribly with the way a slight smirk tugged at his lips.

“In your hands?” he said in a low tone. “I happily will.”

“Pure lies,” I mumbled, searching his eyes. This close, I could just lean in and take his lips and finally act on the urges of my betraying body. But something made me hesitate. Arkane was a dangerous man, and my standing with him was still unclear.

And if he could read the thoughts in my mind, he didn’t show it and instead laughed playfully, unhooking his hips from me and jumping to his feet. I couldn’t help but smile. The moment between us was gone, but it was nice to see him laugh.

“Come on.” He held out a hand, and I took it, standing up.

We went back upstairs, and I slipped into the guest room, straight to the shower. When I came out, a silky gray midi dress in exactly the style I usually wear waited for me with a note: Wear this and meet me upstairs. It even came with a set of clean underwear and a long coat. I didn’t complain, thankful for a fresh pair of clothes after days. He could afford it.

“Come on,” Arkane said, just as I stepped out of the room, not before his eyes roved over the length of my body. He was in the hallway, waiting for me in his usual black suit and long coat.

“Where?” I frowned, donning my jacket.

“The court files will take days, and we don’t have that kind of time. So what better way to ask than the source itself?” he said, already walking, and I followed close behind.

I didn’t miss how he said “we,” like somehow, we were in this together.

“The source?” I asked. “What source? You mean we’re going to see Karl Ford?”

“Yes, it’s Chiara’s birthday,” he muttered. “No one would miss it.”

“Your sister?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think it’s right for me to come to a family event.”

“Why is that?” He gave me a look as he held the passenger door open to a gleaming pitch-black sports car with his usual plates that read STORM. “I can bring anyone I want.”

With that, he closed the door, and my eyes remained fixed on him as he calmly walked over to the driver’s side and glided into his seat like it was custom-made for him. It probably was.