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A frown forms on my forehead. “I won’t back down.”
“Because you’re stubborn,” Cillian chastises me. “It’s a weakness you need to work on.”
Letting out a sigh, I mumble, “I know.”
“When do you start with weapons training?”
I glance at the time. “Thirty minutes. I need to get ready, and I want to grab something to eat.”
“Call me later.”
“I will.”
After ending the call, I close the faucets and rush through my bath routine. I can soak my muscles tonight. Once I’m dressed in a clean pair of black pants and a t-shirt, I slip on my boots. Standing up from where I was sitting on the side of the bed, I feel more confident now that I’m wearing my combat uniform. I go back into the bathroom and take a butterfly band-aid from my first aid kit. I stick it over the split above my eyebrow, and then I dab some ointment onto the cut on my lip. Having taken care of my injuries which aren’t too bad, I tie my hair back in a ponytail and leave my room.
The hallway is empty as I make my way to the stairs, and I figure everyone is either busy with training or eating. I walk into the dining room and notice only three tables are occupied. Damien’s sitting at the one in the far corner. I choose one close to the door, which is on the opposite side of the room.
I take a seat with my back facing the wall, so I have a clear view of the other tables. When a waiter stops by my table, I order a gourmet beef sandwich and a salad, along with a berry smoothie and a bottle of water.
I settle back in my chair, and lifting my chin, my eyes find Damien’s. He’s done eating and just stares at me.
He might be better than me when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, but I hope I can give him a run for his money in weaponry.
Cillian taught me to be competitive. But when it comes to Damien, something else drives me to prove to him I can stand my ground.
I’m constantly aware of the attraction I feel toward him. His piercing eyes, chiseled jaw, muscled body… and damn, the way he keeps pushing all my buttons.
An arrogant Russian God.
Only, I have zero intention of bowing to him. Ever.
As if he can read my thoughts, the corner of his mouth lifts in a dangerously sexy smirk. Not that I care. I’m sure Damien’s well aware of the effect he has on women.
I watch as he rises to his feet, and then he slowly begins to stalk in my direction. When he’s close, I lift my chin, my eyes locking with his.
Instead of making a remark about how I’m not good enough, his eyes keep mine prisoner until they snap away from me as he leaves the room. The moment has my heartbeat speeding up and the spit drying in my mouth. Not out of fear but something else… something far more dangerous.
Damien’s the kind of man women kill for.
Shaking my head, I take a deep breath. My food arrives in time to keep me occupied, so I won’t get lost in my thoughts of Damien. Or so I hope.
I think it’s his intensity that has me rattled. I’m forced to notice him whenever we’re in the same room, unlike the other men who can’t even get a second glance from me.
As I’m finishing my meal, I hear hard footsteps, and then Carson walks into the room. His eyes skim over me before he walks to the table Damien was sitting at.
“Winter Hemsley,” a voice gets my attention. I glance at the speaker, and not recognizing him, I narrow my eyes. “Adrian Vincent,” he introduces himself as he takes a seat across from me.
His name registers, and I murmur, “Assassin.”
He gives me a cocky smile. “At your service.”
I let my gaze drift over him, taking in his black hair, his almost black eyes, and sharp features. Apprehension skitters down my spine.
Be careful of this one.
Setting my napkin down, I rise to my feet, and with one last glance at Adrian, I leave the room.
When I walk into the weapons room, I hear gunshots. Following the sound, I find the range, and for a couple of minutes, I watch Damien and Hugo firing shots at paper targets. They’re both good, their bullets never missing the head and heart.
I hear movement behind me, and glancing over my shoulder, I see Paulie and MJ walking into the room with Miss Dervishi. She walks to a wide wall and presses a button, which has the wall sliding back, displaying a comprehensive selection of weapons.
Slowly, I step closer, stopping behind MJ. Hearing footsteps behind me, I have to force myself to not glance back, knowing it’s Damien and Hugo. Instead, I move to the side, and crossing my arms over my chest, I take in a position that has no one standing behind me.
