"You're oddly aggressive today," Jack commented as I slammed my fist into the punching bag again.

"Shut up," I grumbled, throwing my gloves to the ground.

Jack had been impressed with me that morning. I had already gone on a run before coming in, so I was buzzing by the time we started training. Apparently, I had too much energy to go at him, so we had started out with the punching bag. An hour later, I still felt as wired as I had when I got there. I think Jack could see it in my eyes.

"Anything you want to talk to me about?"

"No." Definitely not the fact that for the first time in weeks Vincent hadn't driven me home the night before. That definitely was not bothering me one bit.

"Juliette."

"I'm fine."

He rolled his eyes at me, which resulted in my blood igniting. I had him on the floor before he could blink. I think we were both surprised with the ease with which I pinned him. He stared up at me but made no move to throw me. Instead, he adjusted so that he was lying flat on his back. As I straddled his stomach, I could feel the blush crawling up my neck. It didn't help that he let his hands settle on my hips. His tawny gaze caught mine, and I froze.

"You sure?' he asked, his voice soft as cashmere.

"No." I slipped off him and fell onto my back beside him.

"The guy?"

"Isn't every girl's problem a male?" I grumbled, throwing my arm across my eyes.

He chuckled. "That's very true."

"I don't wanna talk about it."

Thankfully, Jack seemed to take the hint and hauled himself to his feet. He reached down and took my hand before pulling me up as well. He used more force than I expected, and I stumbled into his chest. He steadied me, but instead of stepping away from me he gripped my face with gentle fingers and tilted my chin up. For half a second his eyes searched mine. My brows rose of their own accord, but I made no move to step away from him. The shake of his head was almost imperceptible as he released his hold. Even though he wasn't touching me anymore, neither of us moved.

"I need you to trust me if this is going to work. We've talked about this," his voice was low, and I could swear his eyes were pleading.

"I trust you as my trainer," I told him, taking a step back and raking my fingers through my hair. "This is different. And he really isn't anyone to worry about."

"Are you sure?"

No. "Yes."

Jack looked as skeptical about my statement as I felt. The thing was, I didn't even know what I was feeling, so how could I even begin to explain it to him? How was I supposed to tell him that I had developed feelings for a man who had kidnapped me? Okay, so maybe he wasn't the one who had technically kidnapped me, but it had been for him. And that sounded creepy. There was absolutely no way to explain this situation to Jack without sounding like I was some kind of victim of Stockholm Syndrome. Which, maybe I was. I was making my own head hurt. It had been over a week since the incident in my kitchen with Vincent. I shouldn't still be impacted by it. More than that, I shouldn't be so bothered by walking home the night before. But I had grown accustomed to his company. Scrunching my eyes closed, I began to rub my temples.

"You good?" Jack asked, and I felt him step closer again.

"Fine," I replied, taking an equal step back.

When our eyes met again, he just shook his head. "Go home for the day. Do some yoga when you get a little bit of free time. It'll help you unwind. Have a drink. Take a bubble bath. Something, woman."

"Sir, yes, sir," I said with a mock salute. A smile twisted my lips despite my mood. His grin matched mine as we said our goodbyes. I promised to be more on my game the next time I came in.

Now I just had to make sure that wasn't a lie.

The sky was overcast when I finally began my walk home. The oncoming rain was so heavy on the air I could feel it. My lip curled as I ducked my head and trudged on. After a while I checked my phone. A missed call from Devyn and four from Vincent. That brought me up short. Why had Vincent called me? What on earth could have happened? There was no way he was apologizing for the night before. He would have just texted, not called four times. I worried my lip between my teeth. Shaking my head, I called Devyn first. Vincent was probably just not used to being ignored. It was a simple call. Plans for the rest of the week and when we could have a girl's night. Once that was all settled, I stared at my phone. Should I call him back?

My decision was made for me when my phone rang in my hand.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?"

"Well hello to you too, Vinnie."

"Not funny, Juliette." My whole body seized up. There was obvious distress in his voice. "Where are you?"

I glanced up at the street signs above me. I was a good mile from the gym at that point. So, I gave him my location. He ordered me to stay put and disconnected the call. I was dumbstruck, so for once, I did as I was told. I leaned against the brick store face behind me and waited. The rain came down in a curtain. One second I was dry, the next I was soaked to the bone. He had better hurry, I thought.

It wasn't too much longer that the black SUV rolled to a stop in front of me. I pushed off the wall and headed toward it. Before I could even reach for the handle Vincent was around the car. My eyes widened as he immediately pulled me against him with a force he had never used with me. He crushed my small body against his so hard I thought my bones would give way. He buried his face in the crook of my neck as one hand tangled itself into my hair and the other ensnared my waist. Utterly dumbfounded, it took me a minute to react to him. As his warmth enveloped me, I forgot about the rain and wrapped my arms around him as well.

"Vincent, what –"

"They found a body," he said, cutting me off. He pulled back just enough to press his forehead against mine, but didn't release his death grip for an instant. "Short, brunette, in her twenties. Three blocks away from your apartment. I went by this morning. You weren't there. You weren't answering your phone. The men couldn't find you." His voice was clipped and strained as his eyes bored into mine.

"You thought I was dead?"

"The one night I don't take you home. The one night the guys are too busy with this deal to do it. The one night Arkin or Lucas wasn't with you." He shut his eyes, let out a deep breath through his nose, and pulled me impossibly closer. "I was terrified."

The admission was so quiet I barely heard it. But I did, and suddenly I wasn't so cold.

"I'm okay," I murmured.

"Answer your phone next time." He pulled back enough to cup my face in his hands, running his thumbs across my cheekbones.

"Okay." The urge to roll my eyes was so strong that I barely contained it. That was not what he needed at that moment. I had never seen him so distraught. I just couldn't fathom why. There was no way he felt the same way about me that I did about him.

Right?

"I'm taking you home. Get in," he ordered as he swung my door open.

This time I did let my eyes roll, but I got in all the same. For just a moment I worried about the seats, but then I remembered he was just as wet as I was at that point. The ride home was silent. Not even the familiar melody from a set of piano keys distracted from the constant hum of the rain. When Vincent finally parked the car neither of us moved. Instead we just sat within the safety of the car. I wanted to say something to him. Anything. I just didn't know what. I never thought I would see him in the state he was in.

Eventually, I sighed and slid out. He followed me. After beeping the SUV locked, he placed his hand at the small of my back as we walked. When we got to my apartment door, I was confused to find it unlocked. Dexter was waiting patiently inside. Nothing seemed too out of place, but I could tell that someone had been inside my apartment while I had been gone. My eyebrows arched at Vincent.

"I told you I came by earlier."

"And you broke in?"

"You need better locks. The locksmith is coming by in the morning."

"Dexter is usually more than enough of a reason for someone to stay out." I glanced at the traitor, knowing he must have let Vincent do whatever he wanted while he was here. "Maybe I need a better guard dog."

I was in my bedroom before realization dawned.

"What locksmith?" I asked, popping my head out into the hallway to glare at him where he stood in the center of the living room.

"The one I hired to install a state-of-the-art security system."

"Vinnie –"

"Juliette," he snapped. "Just . . . Don't fight me on this."

I harrumphed before slipping back into my bedroom to strip out of the wet clothes. When I was completely redressed in dry clothes, I bit my bottom lip. I couldn't just leave Vincent in his equally wet clothes. Rummaging through my drawers, I came up with a pair of basketball shorts and a shirt that I had stolen from an ex. They were mine at that point, I had worn and washed them so much. However, the man had been about Vincent's build, so I hoped they would fit.

When I reemerged into the living room I tossed him the shorts. He arched a brow at me, then shook his head like he had thought better about whatever had crossed his mind. With no warning, he began to undress. I whipped around to face away from him.

"A little warning next time!"

"Don't act like you don't want to look." His tone was back to normal, so I focused on that instead of the fact that he was right.

When he was done changing, I took all his clothes – underwear included – and threw them in the dryer. He could wash them himself when he got home. He was sitting on the couch with Dexter in his lap when I finally made it back to him. That was when the real dilemma hit. It was my night off. What was I supposed to do with him?

"Come here," he said, his voice soft.

My thighs clenched, and I decided to ignore it, but listened to his words all the same. My steps were slow, but eventually I sat on the opposite end of the couch than him with my back against the arm. For a few moments I just studied him. I was still not sure how to take his admission earlier. I wasn't sure I was supposed to have heard it, but I did. He thought I was gone and he was terrified. Something told me not very many things scared a man like Vincent Monroe. I had to mean something to him.

"This isn't about me going to the cops anymore, is it?" I found myself asking before I could stop myself.

Our eyes met. The silence that followed spoke volumes. We were both in uncharted waters. As if sensing the tension, Dexter jumped down and went to lay in the dining room. Without him the space between Vincent and I seemed enormous. He reached for me and had me straddling his waist in a movement so swift I didn't recognize it until it was too late. We went from being so separated to so close in the time it took to blink. His hands slipped underneath the hem of my t-shirt and his fingertips grazed along my hips just above my waistband. My breath caught and one of his full-blown smiles broke across his face. He cupped the back of my head and drew me even closer.

"No," he responded before glancing down at my lips.

I closed the distance between us. Fuck all the warning bells going off in the back of my mind.

He was so gentle with me. It shouldn't surprise me the care with which he handled me at that point, but it still did. His lips moved against mine in a smooth rhythm, soft and urgent all at the same time. When I came up for air his mouth didn't leave me, it just trailed a line of burning kisses from my jawline, down the column of my throat, and then repeated the journey back up. Every ounce of attraction I had for him burst forth from the recesses of my brain to demand my attention. I was aching for him. He was still being so careful, and I was sick of it. When his mouth closed over mine again, I pulled his lower lip into my mouth and bit down. Maybe a little harder than I should have.

He let out a low hiss and constricted him arms around me until I could feel every inch of his body. At least I knew he was just as affected by me as I was by him, if the stab against my abdomen was any indication. He returned the bite in kind, and I dug my nails into his shoulders. He wrapped my legs around his waist, which drove me mad. It repositioned his erection so that it rubbed directly against my core and I almost whimpered. Almost. He stood in a fluid movement and carried me through my apartment as if I weighed nothing. My head was still reeling when he dropped me on my bed.

His gaze was heavy as it raked over me. He moved slowly to grip the bottom of my shirt. When I made no protest, he pulled it over my head and tossed it into the far corner of the room. His ghost of a smile pulled at his lips as he reached forward to flick the silver bars that ran through each of my nipples. I swatted his hands away and scooted back on the bed. His brows arched at me as he simply followed my retreat, inevitably crawling to hover over me.

"What?" I snapped under his scrutinizing. "Did you expect me to only have tattoos?"

"Kind of," his voice was just as heavy as his eyes, and it was almost my undoing.

"Sorry to disappoint."

"If you think I'm disappointed, you are sadly mistaken." And he covered my body with his before reclaiming my mouth in another head-spinning kiss.

Most of our clothes joined my shirt in a matter of minutes. At that point, the only thing separating us was the pair of shorts still on his body. We were both breathing heavy, and his hands slipped lower until my back arched off the bed, only serving to press me impossibly tighter against him. The ease with which he worked my body into an orgasm was ridiculous. The moans that left my mouth didn't sound like my own, and when I finally fell over the edge, his mouth muffled my scream. I was panting beneath him when I regained my bearings. He had this smug smile on his face that I wanted smack off it. I almost did, but he caught my wrist and pinned it to the bed.

His free hand roamed down my body, gently stroking every dip and curve. His forest eyes met mine, and his lips tilted into a smile. He bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead before he met my gaze again. "Are you sure you want to do this?' he asked.

His question threw me off guard. "What?"

"Princess if you want me to stop, I would prefer you told me now," there was laughter in his voice, but I knew he was serious. So I took a second to come back to my senses. And all the nagging thoughts that I had pushed away earlier came back full force. I think he noticed my hesitation, because I felt his resignation before it showed on his face. He pulled back from me but took me with him and cradled my naked body against his chest. He tucked my head beneath his chin and held me tight. "Okay."

And that was it. He kissed the top of my head and went to find our clothes. He picked all of it up and brought me my shirt and shorts before pulling his shirt back on. When I was fully clothed again, I felt more exposed to him than I had naked. I tried to slip past him, but he caught my hand before I could get out of the room. "What?" I asked.

"What're you doing?"

"Going to the living room?"

"Don't hide from me."

My shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not, c'mon. Let's watch something."

And that was how I ended up curled up on Vincent's lap on what I thought would be a regular Wednesday. Turned out to be the total opposite. I didn't know where the events of the day left us, but I did know that I didn't regret a single second. Somehow, Vincent and I's lives had become entangled more than we ever dreamed. There was no denying that I felt something for him, but there was nothing to be done about it. He was a gang leader. Who knew what he was up to when he wasn't with me? Which lead me to my main concern of the night: how was he with me at the time?

"Don't the boys need you?" I asked when the sun disappeared below the horizon.

"I took the day off."

"Can you do that?"

"Princess, I do what I want. I'm the boss."

He had a point.

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