She nods.
“Why do you bother?”
Her eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”
“You’re rich. You could never work a day in your life.”
“Why wouldn’t I work?” she asks, her voice tight.
I tilt my head at the hurt in her voice.
“My father is rich,” she corrects me. “I’m building something of my own. Dad raised us to value hard work. I’m not some trophy wife type, lounging by the pool and seducing the help. I’m the only one who didn’t join the family business. This company is mine, built from the ground up.”
Her words catch me off guard. There’s a fire in her eyes, a determination I hadn’t expected. A grudging respect forms, but before I can respond, we reach the treadmills.
I need to stay by her side. I press the stop button on the machine next to the one Cora’s eyeing.
The runner, a guy in his thirties, yanks out his earbuds. “What the hell, man?” he snarls.
I meet his gaze steadily. “I need this treadmill. Move.”
“Fuck off,” he spits back. “I was here first.”
Cora grabs my arm. “Ryder, stop it.”
I ignore her, keeping my eyes locked on the other man. This isn’t about ego; it’s about establishing a secure position.
“For God’s sake,” Cora mutters. “Ryder, you’ve proven yours is bigger. Let it go.”
My eyes flick to her, annoyance flaring. “I need this spot. It’s for your safety.”
To my surprise, Cora turns to the runner with a dazzling smile. I watch, a mix of irritation and reluctant admiration growing as she sweet-talks the guy into giving up the treadmill. Her charm is impressive, I’ll give her that. But when she touches his arm, an irrational surge of...something flows through me. Not jealousy. Definitely not that.
“Hey,maybe I could get your number?” the guy asks as he’s leaving.
I tense, ready to intervene, but Cora handles it smoothly. “Oh, I’m flattered, but I’m seeing someone. Thank you, though.”
As he walks away, I take my place on the treadmill, positioning myself for optimal surveillance.
“You’re not going to run?” Cora asks.
“No.”
She rolls her eyes, and something in me snaps. “Stop that,” I growl.
“Stop what?”
“Rolling your eyes at me.Or else...”
I let my voice trail off, hardening my expression. I’m not even sure what I’m threatening.
“Or else what?” she challenges, a reckless glint in her eye. “You’ll spank me?”
Unbidden images flash through my mind—inappropriate, unprofessional thoughts I have no business entertaining. A primal growl builds in my chest, and I cross my arms to hide my clenched fists.
She bends over, her bare skin flushed from my hand, my fingers tracing the curve of her spine. Her breath hitches, eyes wide but daring, lips parted, waiting for me to move, to act. I imagine her gasping my name, her back arching under my touch, her defiance melting into something far more dangerous.
Jesus.
