Page 36 of The Contract

She nods, making no move to leave right away.

Her gaze flickers—almost imperceptibly—over my arms, my chest, the snug fit of my shirt where it stretches across my shoulders.

She lingers there for just a second too long before pulling her focus back up.

She’s not as indifferent as she’s pretending to be.

And that knowledge settles low in my stomach.

Elena exhales, rolling her shoulders back. “All right then. I’ll leave you to it.”

She turns, walking out of the gym, her posture composed, confident.

I shouldn’t push this line.

I should start my workout, push last night—and every thought of her—out of my fucking head.

But fuck it.

Just before she passes by me, I reach for the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head, tossing it onto the nearby bench.

Her steps slow—just slightly.

Her cheeks flush, and she cuts her eyes at me.

I watch her walk away in the gym’s floor-to-ceiling mirrors.

Just before she disappears around the corner—she glances back.

A split-second flick of her gaze. But I see it.

And she sees me.

She looks away too quickly, as if realizing her mistake.

I smirk, slow and knowing.

Did you like what you saw, Trouble?

I know she did.

Exhaling, I roll my shoulders before reaching for a set of weights.

Two easy weeks. That’s what I told her last night.

But if she keeps looking at me like that…

I already know how this is going to end.

The quiet hum of the city filters through the expansive windows of the penthouse, softened by the sound of light rain tapping against the glass. The morning is slow, unhurried. Exactly the kind I need.

I sit at the marble breakfast counter, a sleek tablet propped up in front of me, along with a black leather-bound ledger neatly placed to the side. My stylus rests between my fingers, but I haven’t started working yet.

Instead, I focus on my breakfast—a simple plate of sliced fruit, eggs, and toast, something light to fuel the rest of my day. Across from me, on the counter, there’s another plate, untouched.

I don’t know why I made extra. Habit, maybe. I usually cook breakfast for my roommate and best friend, Eve.

She’d probably burn our place down if she tried to use the stove.

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