“You could say that.”
“Wanna spar?”
“God, yes.”
We start slow—jabs, blocks, resets—but soon my hits come too fast. Too hard. My body’s moving like it’s been lit from the inside and has nowhere to put the heat.
“Okay, man,” Linc pants. “Maybe dial it back a?—”
I hit his pads so hard that it knocks him back a step.
He laughs nervously. “Alright. You’re either pissed off, or this is your weird version of cardio.”
“I’m fine,” I snap. Spoiler: I am not. Forget exploding. Implosion’s the real threat.
I catch Mia out of the corner of my eye, posted at the entrance to the gym. She’s holding my electrolyte drink, but hasn’t brought it over yet. She watches in silence for another moment.
“You okay in here?” she calls, cocking her head.
“No fatalities yet,” Linc pants. He’s the one under assault, so he assumes she’s asking him.
Mia raises a brow. “That’s… reassuring.”
She crosses her arms and leans against the wall, watching us spar with a look that says,poor bastard, you have no idea what you walked into.
I throw another hit. Too fast. Too sloppy. Linc dodges it.
“Whoa! Did someone piss in your smoothie this morning?” I grunt and punch harder as my answer. He catches it. “You’ve got some serious energy today, man.”
Mia lets out a dry laugh. “I promise, he’s not usually this murdery.” Then she flicks her gaze to me with a look halfway betweencalm downandI’ll kill you myself.
Linc steps back and shrugs off the mitts, shaking out his hands.
“Well,” he says carefully, “I’m no longer sure if this is a training session or a purge, so I’m just gonna stay out of your way.” He nods toward the heavy bag. “Let’s switch things up.”
I’m not against the switch. As long as I can keep punching something, I don’t really care if it’s human or bolted to the ceiling.
Mia steps in before I have my way with the bag. She covers my fingers with hers as I reach for the bottle she brought. She mouths, “Breathe,” and I let it out. She winks, and my grip eases. “And behave,” she whispers, right before she turns and slips out.
That’s the first time my shoulders drop since I left her bedroom this morning.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
preston
Showered.Calmer. Wearing clothes that don’t require caution tape, I step into the living room and find Mia seated on the couch beside the designer. They’re surrounded by swatches, sketches, and enough architectural renderings to renovate the Colosseum.
“Dr. Jett, I’m Zaha, nice to officially meet you.” We shake hands, and I sit across from her, while Mia stays quiet, observing and idly fiddling with the corner of a fabric swatch.
“Apologies for earlier. I was in one of my moods. Frustrating morning.”
“Not to worry. I cleared my day. Callie and Mia made it clear that you should be my top priority. I’ve brought three concepts I’d love your feedback on.” Apparently,everyonemeans business today, and the clock is running. “Tell me what you like, what you don’t, and we’ll take it from there.”
She flips through the options. Wood. Metal. Bold tones. Warm and sun-drenched neutrals. Light fixturesso elaborate they might levitate. Too much to choose from.Too much, period.
“The brief the ladies gave me was to start fresh. Wipe the slate clean.”
I catch Mia leaning back on the couch, about to crawl her way up and out of there.
