Everyone scatters immediately, including Daniel, who gives me one last glance before disappearing.
Now it’s just the two of us.
Nico stands in the middle of the training ring, breathing hard, eyes burning into me like he wants to devour me whole.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Eleonora
Exhaling deeply, he walks straight toward me, eyes locked on my body with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. His gaze drags slowly down from my face to my chest, over the thin top that clings to my breasts, then lower to the short black shorts that barely reach mid-thigh.
His jaw clenches hard. Anger flares hot in his eyes.
“Why the fuck are you wearing that?” he growls.
I glance down at the shorts and top I’ve put on, genuinely confused. “What? You have a problem with my wardrobe now?”
“You’ve been walking around my property dressed like that?” His voice is low, dangerous. “In front of my men?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. What’s your problem?” I snap.
He doesn’t answer. He just stares, jaw grinding, chest still rising and falling from the sparring. The air between us crackles, thick and heavy with something far more dangerous than anger.
I need to say something, anything to break this unbearable tension.
“You’re a terrible fighter,” I blurt out.
Oh my God, Eleonora. Seriously? That’s what you went with?
Nico raises one dark brow, surprise flickering across his face before it melts into something far more predatory. “Is that so?”
I double down because my mouth clearly has a death wish. “Yeah. Your footwork is sloppy, and you drop your left shoulder every time you throw a right cross. It’s obvious. Anyone with half a brain could see the opening.”
For a second I think he might snap at me.
Then he laughs.
A real, low, rough laugh that vibrates through his chest and does terrible, wicked things to my insides. The sound is dark and rich, and I hate how much I like it. How much I want to hear it again.
“Maybe you should show me how it’s done then,” he says, voice dripping with challenge.
I open my mouth to backtrack, but he’s already moving.
He grabs my wrist and pulls me toward the sparring mat where he’d just been fighting. His grip is firm, warm, and sends a jolt straight between my legs.
“Come on, princess,” he says, tugging me onto the grass. “Show me what you’ve got.”
I follow him, pulse racing. I know very little about actual sparring, just a few moves my sisters and I secretly copied from watching Papa’s men train.
We used to practice in the garden when no one was looking. But this? This is nothing like that.
Now my big mouth has gotten me into something I’m not sure I can handle.
Especially not with Nico standing in front of me, shirtless, sweaty, and looking at me like he wants to devour me whole.
We start circling each other on the grass. I try my best, throwing punches and attempting to dodge, but I can tell he’s being deliberately easy on me, holding back, moving slower, almost toying with me.
“I hear you were begging to be let out of the house,” he says, voice low as he blocks my weak attempt at a strike.
