Page 150 of King of Envy

“Yeah?” His eyes grew hooded. “How?”

I leaned forward, my lips tickling his ear. “By teaching me how to shoot.”

His laugh followed me all the way to the shooting stall.

I grinned. I liked messing with him, and I liked hearing him laugh even more.

Since it was my first time at a shooting range, Vuk started by explaining safety procedures and giving me a rundown of how things worked—how to hang targets, when to take breaks, what to do when something went wrong, so on and so forth. Once he walked me through the full process, we put on our safety gear and got started.

Vuk stood behind me and adjusted my form. “Hold it half an inch higher. Bend your left elbow and turn your left side toward the target.” His hand was rough and warm, his instructions cool and precise. “Just like that. Good.”

The soft breath of his praise ghosted the back of my neck.

My belly clenched. This shouldn’t be so hot, but his proximity and the confident, capable way he manipulated my body into the exact position he wanted it in made desire pulse between my thighs.

I forced the lusty thought aside. The last thing I wanted was to be distracted while I held a literal gun in my hands.

Once Vuk was satisfied with my form, he stepped aside. I pulled the trigger, and…missed my target. I also missed the next one, and the one after that. Between the kickback and my nerves, shooting was a lot harder than Nate Reynolds made it look in his action thrillers.

To be fair, I hit some parts of the target, just not the parts Iwantedto hit. Its knee and forearm were peppered with holes when I was aiming for the heart.

I was so embarrassed I almost called it quits halfway, but quitting was worse than failing. So I stuck it out until my last shot came within several inches of the heart. It wasn’t great, but it was preferable to shooting the knee again.

“Better.” Vuk had been surprisingly patient throughout my many misses, and he smiled now at my pout. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

“I hope so. Otherwise, I’m as liable to shoot myself as I am anyone else,” I grumbled.

Despite my dismal performance, I felt a small flutter of pride. I wasn’t planning on actually shooting anyone—guns still made me nervous, and there was a difference between firing at an inanimate object versus a flesh-and-blood person—but the simple act of learning how made me feel safer. More in control.

In a world where organizations like the Brotherhood existed, every advantage counted.

After our lesson ended, I freshened up in the bathroom and met up with Vuk again in the waiting area. We left the range together, our steps falling easily into sync.

“I told you I could shoot in heels,” I quipped.

“Maybe you would’ve hit the target if you were in something else,” Vuk said.

I gasped and swatted his arm as we stopped in front of a gilded elevator. He smirked, his eyes dancing with mischief.

Despite his absolute disrespect toward my beloved footwear, I loved this teasing, light-hearted side of him. Whatever he’d accomplished at work had wiped away some of the stress lines around his mouth. They weren’t gone completely, but they were noticeably softer.

I wondered if his “work” had anything to do with the Brotherhood. I didn’t want to ruin the mood by asking, so I kept my curiosity to myself for now. If he wasn’t worried, I wasn’t worried.

The elevator had a biometric pad in place of a button. Vuk pressed his thumb against the pad. There was a beeping sound accompanied by flashing yellow lights. Two seconds later, the lights blinked a solid green, and the doors slid open.

See? Spy thriller shit.

“Fancy,” I said, taking in the elevator’s shiny mirrors and plush red carpet. I wasn’t sure where he was taking me, but I was happy to follow along for now.

“The managing director title has its perks,” Vuk said. “This is the private elevator to my office. No one can access it without my fingerprint.”

The doors closed, and he pressed the button for the fourth floor.

“So this is completely private,” I said. “No one can accidentally walk in?”

He shook his head.

I was still riding an adrenaline high from the range, and I remembered the heat of his body when he’d stood behind me. His control, his precision, his commanding tone when he told me what to do and how to do it.

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