Page 29 of Bought By Sin

She didn’t reply and merely acknowledged him with a look.

“So I’m not surprised that teaching you some basic combat moves and defensive katas is next.” He cracked his knuckles and smiled. “So, let’s go.” He tilted his head to the side and led her toward another part of the gym. Men could spar here. Punching bags hung from the racks and beams. Protective gear for all manner of martial arts rested on the shelves.

She stepped onto the mat, unafraid and attentive.

Like always.

And so it began. It came to no surprise that she adapted quickly. No matter what stance Roman showed her and which trainer ran her through a series of deflections, hits, and dodges, she proved to be a quick learner.

“She has to have had experience with this before,” Alexei commented later that day when he and Viktor stopped over to speak with me about some issues Stefan Rossi, the boss of the Mob family in New York, had talked about recently.

I nodded. “I think she has, but not officially.” I gestured at her sparring with a soldier on the mat. “She’s approaching this on instinct. She’s learned to defend herself naturally. But I don’t think she’s been trained before.”

Once again, I wondered about her past. Where she’d come from and how she’d managed to survive to be this strong. To be this defiant and not intimidated.

What does it matter?

Over the course of the week, her third one here as my latest ‘purchase’ and most serious obsession, I stayed nearby and watched as she trained. My brother and cousins all checked in, sparring with her too. They were just as curious about this quiet mystery woman as I was, or rather, they witnessed how committed I was to having her serve her purpose with us to the best that she could.

What does it matter if I know about her past?

She’s not showing any sign of lowering her guard about being in the present here.

I’m not supposed to care about her future, either.

But that was the catch that kept me in this proverbial chokehold.

I did care.

Something about those haunted eyes, something in the way she seemed trapped in her trauma and wariness. Mila had lassoed me with a tether of concern that wasn’t only a form of desire and lust.

I cared. I was curious.

And the longer she remained so elusive to my hope of taming her, of even breaking through to get to know her, the more this slow-burning ire simmered in my veins.

Especially now.

I narrowed my eyes, just arriving from dealing with some drug dealers on the Strip. She’d been here, training and focusing on all that Roman was teaching her, and I hadn’t considered interrupting her and bringing her with me while I reinforced the lesson of what happened to dealers who wanted to try to steal product from us.

But I regretted being gone this time.

Nikolai was on the mat with her, sparring and giving her a chance to practice all the skills she was acquiring.

Seeing his arms wrapped around her as he tried to bring her down to the mat lit a fuse of anger within me.

Watching him put his hands on her, even in the manner of blocking her and deflecting her hits, spiked this curling twist of envy in my chest.

I hated the idea of another man—even my cousin—touching her.

I loathed the possibility that he could be enjoying this interaction with her.

Although it was strictly professional, in the spirit of teaching her and not at all sexual, I had to fight back the urge to storm out there and shove him away from her.

Witnessing any man with her was becoming a challenge. Recognizing how deeply possessive I was becoming of her couldn’t bode well for me, either.

She was supposed to be mine.

My woman.