The gym occupied the entire top floor of one of my private properties. Concrete walls. Black steel beams. Floor-to-ceilingwindows overlooking the beach. The scent of sweat, leather, and gun oil lingered permanently in the air. The heavy bags swayed lazily from earlier use. Outside, rain crawled down the glass in silver streaks. The city beneath us looked sharp and dangerous. Just the way I liked it.
Matteo lunged. Anger telegraphed every movement. Predictable. I stepped aside. His momentum carried him forward. I hooked his ankle. He crashed into the mat again.
"Motherfu-"
"Language," I said.
He stared at me. "You literally execute people."
"That doesn't mean you should swear." I smirked. “Your sister wouldn’t like it.”
The kid blinked. Then barked out a laugh despite himself. A familiar laugh answered from the doorway. My entire body locked. Not visibly. Nobody would notice. Nobody except me.
Aurora stood in the entrance. And now the gym felt too small. Jesus Christ. The woman was becoming a problem. Dark hair spilled over one shoulder. A fitted cream sweater slipped off one collarbone. Black leggings hugged long legs. No makeup. No diamonds. No effort. And somehow she still looked more dangerous than every weapon in the room.
Rain-soaked light softened the edges of her face. Made her look younger. Sweeter. Which was funny. Because sweetness had absolutely nothing to do with Aurora Ventura. That girl could start a war with a single sentence.
"You're smiling," she announced.
My eyes narrowed. "I wasn't."
"Oh, he definitely was,” Matteo said.
Traitor. I looked at him. Slowly. The little bastard had the decency to look nervous. "You're both imagining things."
Aurora folded her arms. "You're smiling right now."
I stopped. She laughed. God. That sound. The laugh hit somewhere beneath my ribs. A place I didn't let people touch. A place that had been dead for four years. I hated that she could reach it without even trying.
Matteo glanced between us. Then visibly decided he valued his life.
"Well," he said, backing toward the door, "I should probably leave."
Aurora pointed. "Oh no."
"Yep,” he said, eager to get out.
"You were training,” she reminded him.
"Not anymore."
"Santino was helping you,” she added.
"He was assaulting me,” her little brother corrected.
I nodded. "Fair."
"See?" Matteo said. Aurora rolled her eyes. The kid practically sprinted out of the room. Coward.
The door clicked shut behind him. Silence settled. Not uncomfortable. Worse. The kind that felt aware. Rain tapped softly against the windows. Thunder rolled somewhere distant. Aurora walked farther inside. Her sneakers squeaked faintly against the polished concrete. I watched every step. Every movement. Every shift of expression. Like a starving man staring at his next meal.
"What?" she asked.
My gaze dragged slowly back to her face. "Nothing."
"Liar,” she muttered.
"Little troublemaker…” My tone carried a warning. Her eyes narrowed. My favorite look. I pushed away from the ropes and grabbed a towel.
