“Apex?” I can’t hide my surprise. “That place has a two-year waiting list and costs more per month than my rent.”
“Yeah, well, the Kingsley name opens doors.” He shrugs, but there’s self-awareness in it now, not the entitled arrogance I’m used to. “You want to see it? I can get you a guest pass.”
Apex Performance is legendary among fitness enthusiasts. State-of-the-art equipment, recovery facilities that would make professional athletes weep, trainers who’ve worked with Olympians. I’ve dreamed of training there since I moved to New York.
“I’ll need to change,” I say, glancing down at my standard uniform: black button-down, dark pants, combat boots.
“I have gym clothes that might fit you.” Wyatt heads toward his bedroom. “They’ll be a little tight, but better than nothing.”
I should probably say no and maintain professional distance. But the thought of accessing Apex and getting my hands on their equipment…it’s too tempting to pass up.
“Fine. But since you’ve asked for it, we’ll do my routine, not some watered-down version.”
Wyatt looks over his shoulder with a challenge in his eyes. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
As he disappears into his bedroom, I finish my coffee, trying to make sense of this new Wyatt. The one who gets up early, makes coffee, and wants to learn my workout routine. The one who sets boundaries and speaks to me like an equal.
This could be a good thing. A step toward a healthier relationship. And if it helps Wyatt mature, develop discipline, maybe even gain some perspective on real work, so much the better.
Besides, we’ve set clear boundaries now. No more incidents like Saturday. Just a professional relationship between security and protectee. Nothing more.
I ignore the voice in the back of my mind that whispers how Wyatt will look sweaty and flushed after a hard workout. How his muscles will strain against the weight of a barbell. How his eyes might seek mine for approval when he completes a difficult set.
None of that matters. We have boundaries now. This is just part of the job.
At least that’s what I tell myself as I wait for him to return with the gym clothes, though something tells me this new arrangement will test my discipline more than any workout ever could.
10
Wyatt
I watch Gray as we walk through the glass doors of Apex Performance. His eyes go wide, taking in the space like a kid who’s just seen Disney World for the first time. It’s cute—seeing this giant, intimidating man practically vibrating with excitement over some fancy gym equipment. He’s trying to play it cool, keeping his face neutral, but I catch the way his gaze darts from the custom racks to the Olympic lifting platforms to the recovery area. I’ve never given a shit about this place, but watching Gray care so much makes me see it through new eyes.
“This is…impressive,” he says, his voice carefully controlled. But there’s a tiny crack in that perfect soldier facade. The slight breathiness, the way he rocks forward on his toes like he’s physically restraining himself from running to the nearest squat rack.
“It’s alright,” I shrug, playing it casual though I’m secretly enjoying his reaction more than I should. “Wait till you see the recovery center. They’ve got cryotherapy chambers, compression therapy, infrared saunas.”
Gray’s jaw tightens, which I assume is his version of salivating. “They have a combat training area?” he asks, his eyes already scanning for it.
“Back corner.” I nod toward the far side of the floor. “Custom mats, heavy bags. They even have a cage for MMA training.”
He actually smiles. A real, genuine smile that transforms his whole face. I’ve never seen him smile like that before. It does weird things to my stomach, makes me feel like I’ve accomplished something important instead of just showing him a gym my family pays way too much for.
“How long have you been a member?” Gray asks as I lead him through rows of equipment.
“Since it opened. Dad’s company was one of the early investors.” I pause, suddenly self-conscious. “But I, uh, don’t come that often. Waste of money, really.”
“The memberships here cost what, $5,000 a month?” Gray raises an eyebrow.
“More,” I admit. “There’s also the initiation fee.”
His eyes widen. “How much?”
“You don’t want to know.” I grimace, feeling the weight of my privilege more acutely under his gaze than I usually do. “Look, I know it’s excessive. That’s why I never really appreciated it. Everything’s always just…there for me.”
Gray nods. “Well, let’s make use of it today.”
We change in the locker room, Gray stepping into a curtained changing stall while I change right at my locker. When he emerges, my mouth goes dry. My clothes are straining against his body, the borrowed shirt stretching across his chest, the shorts hugging his thighs like they’re painted on. It’s both ridiculous and ridiculously hot.
