By the time I pull up in the underground parking of Perry’s gym, Magnitude, I’ve decided I want Justine to have her details on my desk first thing. Retrieving my gym bag from my boot, I text my assistant and double-check for any updates before I take the elevator up and stalk down the corridor to the private changing facilities.
Mikael, one of the personal trainers, is working out in one of the studios as I pass by but collects up his things when he sees me, stern-faced and on edge. I suspect Perry has called ahead. “Need a partner?”
“Perry call you?”
“He said you might need to blow off some steam.”
“I’m not here to fuck around or build up a light sweat,” I warn.
“I hear you.” He grins. “Studio four is free. I’ll meet you there.” He nods towards the studio as I step back into the changing room. I change out of my suit and hang it up. I don’t bother with a t-shirt and replace my shoes with trainers and put on my shorts. The door creaks, and I turn to find Faye from reception slipping inside, her lip caught up in her teeth and an easy shine in her eyes. My gaze drops to my bag in fury. Now, had it been another woman sporting a fringe and fine bone structure, I’d have smirked and sauntered her way.
“Faye, get out.”
“You look a little tense,” she whispers. For fuck’s sake, did Perry put her up to this?
“I could get you fired for this,” I grunt, stuffing my phone into my bag and zipping it up.
“I doubt it.” The light brush of her fingertip rims my shorts. It trails round to my front, where she applies just enough pressure to dip the tip below the elastic.
I grab her hand and spin, yanking her to my front, and surprised brown eyes pop with unease. “The only workout I need requires something a little more challenging,” I snarl. Why the fuck would he send a woman my way when I feel as unhinged as I fucking do? I’m already close to one lawsuit with Lauren for unfairly dismissing her. I don’t fancy adding Faye to the pile.
“You’d be surprised what I can—”
Scoffing, I cut her off, giving her a steady push back and putting her at arm's length. “I’m not interested. The only woman I’m in the mood to fuck is concus—” I halt when her expression twitches to curiosity. Instead, I shove my bag in a locker and draw in a deep breath through my nose.
“Cain—”
“Faye, fuck off,” I snap and stalk out, heading straight for the far door at the end of the corridor. As soon as I cross the threshold, I snap sideways, dodging a fist. I jab once, twice, then a third time, and Mikael blocks each attack as seamlessly as I strike. I don’t want to dance around the mat and spar. I want to brawl. I want blood. I want to execute every memory I have raining down on me until I’m too exhausted to stand. I want to sweat blood and go to war with my own mind—to punish anyone in my way. Because the real cause of my internal battle is sitting a couple of miles away, in a home that doesn’t belong to him, with a life he stole, and until I can extract the kind of revenge he deserves, my only choice is patience—calculated patience and the soul-deep rush of satisfaction from dismantling the life he stole from beneath his very nose. Those that fall victim to my fury in the meantime should be only grateful they’re not my true target.
Lauren’s pained expression flickers in my mind as Mikael steps in for a right hook that I only just manage to duck away from. She could appeal her dismissal and would have every right to. It is unfair, after all. The hotel doesn’t need that kind of publicity. And as pretty as she is, she’s not worth me losing sight of my end game. I barrel at Mikael and jab successfully to his jaw. His head snaps back, and he flips round to face me, eyes narrowed, working his lower jaw before he lifts his arms and moves in a circle around the mat, orbiting my movements.
“Fucking hit me!” I roar at him.
Experienced feet dance across the mat towards me as Mikael ducks, spins, and glides round with his foot out. The kick knocks me backwards with a pained grunt, my chest vibrating at the direct impact to my ribs. The pain is liberating. I groan in appreciation and advance, striking him with precision and the weight of my anger flying through my fist.
We fight until my muscles are screaming for a reprieve, and Mikael is cupping his jaw and hissing in pain. I, too, can feel the tender burn of bruises forming beneath my skin. Bruises like those on Miss Lindel’s pretty little legs.
“Remind me never to piss you off,” Mikael grunts. Sweat drips off his brow, gliding down his neck to soak into his vest.
“Remind me to spar with you more often,” I pant, dabbing my neck dry. He gives me a light smile as we grab water, and I sit against the cold wall, sliding down. I rest my head against the cool brick, bringing my temperature down.
I sit for a while after Mikael has gone until the door opens and a stream of adolescents arrive for a class. Taking that as my cue to leave, I wander through the gym and back into the changing rooms to grab a quick shower. Only once I’m dressed do I check my phone.
Verdict is in, one mildly concussed and miserable ex-employee. If you’re going to fire her, at least fuck her happy first ; )
Sure, because that will go in my favour if she ever decides to file a complaint. Fired and sexually harassed. How this man runs his own business is beyond me. I take little satisfaction in knowing he hasn’t suggested he fuck her.
Why would I need to fuck her when Faye is on tap?
My mobile rings almost immediately. “Tell me you did not fuck my receptionist?” he demands as soon as I answer the call.
“Hey, you sent her my way,” I scoff and chug back half the water.
“To see if you wanted a deep tissue massage with Dawson!” Perry snaps.
“I think she wanted to massage my dick,” I mutter.
“Fuck… that sneaky bugger. Maybe I can offer Lauren her job? I know the gym will double in business if she works reception.” Over my dead body!