Page 156 of Vicious Temptation

“What the hell?”

Aunt Eva laughs from the sidelines while Aunt Leni offers me a hand.

“You dropped your guard.”

“That was a lucky shot. You didn’t even say go.”

“Of course it was. And this isn’t the movies, sweetheart. No one is going to give you a villain monologue before going in for the kill.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I ignore her outstretched hand and climb to my feet on my own.

We begin circling again.

I throw a jab, then a cross. Aunt Leni slips both and pivots around me with irritating ease. I adjust and come at her faster, but she’s already moving before I commit. She sweeps my leg out from under me, and I’m on the fucking mat again.

I groan. “This is getting embarrassing.”

“For you, maybe.”

I push myself upright and brush off my hands, but the next exchange goes even worse.

Every move feels half a second behind. My timing is off, and my reactions are sluggish. Twice, I catch myself hesitating, and Aunt Leni capitalizes on it. Before long, she puts me on my ass for the fourth time.

Aunt Eva is openly enjoying herself now, and I make a mental note to remember her betrayal later.

“Okay,” I mutter as I get back to my feet. “Now I’m annoyed.”

“You’ve been annoyed.”

I open my mouth to argue, but she’s not wrong.

The problem is that my irritation has very little to do with sparring. It’s about Thiago and his maddening silence. It’s about the fact that three days have passed without any communication, and as much as I hate admitting it, his silence fucking hurts.

Something taps my cheek. I blink and realize too late it’s Aunt Leni’s glove. She sweeps my leg again, and I hit the mat, sending another surge of frustration through me.

“You’re distracted.”

Heat burns behind my eyes, and I clench my jaw against the tears that threaten to spill. Getting my ass handed to me is bad enough without my emotions deciding to humiliate me as well.

“No, I’m not.”

“You absolutely are.”

I shove myself back to my feet. “I’m fine,” I snap, swiping at my eyes with my forearm.

“Remi.” The tone alone tells me she doesn’t believe a word of that.

“Let’s go.”

We start moving again. I focus on her shoulders, stance, and breathing. For a few seconds, it works.

Then, as if my intrusive thoughts have a personal vendetta against me, my mind wanders back to the argument in Thiago’s apartment. I replay my words and wonder whether he regrets asking me to the charity ball or if he misses me at all.

Aunt Leni catches my wrist, turns her hips, and sends me crashing onto the mat. Again.

She shakes her head. “You’ve always had the same problem.”

I sit up and glare at her. “According to you, what’s that?”