“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.”
