The Don's Innocent Collateral

Chapter 18

Neither of them moved.

Nicolai was so close Amelia could feel the heat radiating off his bare chest. His hand lingered for a fraction of a second after tucking the stray hair behind her ear, the rough calluses on his fingers a sharp contrast to the delicate skin of her jaw. His dark eyes were fixed on hers, heavy and intense, pinning her in place.

Her mind went completely blank. All she could think about was how little space there was between them.

But Amelia wasn't about to let him win that easily. She swallowed the sudden dryness in her throat and lifted her chin. She did what she always did when she felt cornered—she joked.

"I was saying..." Amelia started, her voice a little breathless, "...you're showing off."

Nicolai stared at her. "By putting a dumbbell away?"

"Exactly."

"Interesting logic," Nicolai murmured, his voice deadpan, though the faint gleam in his dark eyes told her he was fully aware of what she was doing.

Amelia stepped out of his space, crossing her arms defensively. She refused to retreat to the door, so instead, she pivoted toward a rack of smaller, hex-shaped weights, determined to salvage her pride. She reached for a pair.

Before her fingers even touched the metal, Nicolai’s hand closed over her wrist.

"If you're going to insist on lifting weights," Nicolai said, stepping up beside her, "you might as well learn properly."

She couldn't hide her grin when she looked at him. "Was that your way of admitting I can do it?"

"No," Nicolai replied flatly, releasing her wrist to grab a much lighter, fifteen-pound iron weight. He held it out to her. "It was my way of preventing you from breaking something."

"Rude."

She took the weight. It was still heavy, but manageable.

"Feet shoulder-width," Nicolai instructed, his tone shifting into something strictly authoritative. "Shoulders back. Do not lock your knees."

Amelia mirrored his stance. She brought the weight up, but before she could finish the motion, Nicolai stepped in. His large hands settled on her shoulders, guiding her into position with quiet precision. He tapped the center of her back.

"Keep your core tight. Lift."

She did. It burned, but it moved smoothly. After ten reps, her muscles were shaking, but she dropped the weight back onto the rack with a triumphant little huff.

She turned, her confidence completely restored, and her eyes landed on the massive, black leather heavy bag hanging from a steel chain in the corner. It looked much more satisfying than lifting a piece of iron.

She walked straight toward it. Nicolai watched her go, leaning casually against the power rack, already knowing exactly how this was going to end.

Amelia squared up to the leather bag, raising her fists the way she’d seen it done in movies. "How hard can it be?"

"Hard enough," Nicolai answered from across the room.

Amelia threw a punch. Her knuckles connected with the thick leather.

The bag barely moved.

Amelia frowned, shaking the slight sting from her hand. She stared at the black cylinder, shifted her weight, and threw a second, much harder punch.

Still nothing. The heavy chain above it didn't even rattle.

She dropped her hands and turned to look at Nicolai. "Did you glue this thing to the ceiling?"

The corner of his mouth twitched. He almost smiled.

He pushed off the rack and walked over to her. He didn't mock her. Instead, he stepped directly behind her. His chest brushed lightly against her back.

"You are punching with your arm," Nicolai said softly, his voice rumbling right next to her ear.

He reached down, his heavy boot nudging her right foot back a few inches. Then, his hands ghosted over her arms, adjusting her elbows, pulling them tighter to her ribs. His hands slid down to her hips, turning her torso slightly to the side.

Having him this close made it difficult to think. His hands were warm, his grip steady, and the faint scent of cedar lingering around him wasn't helping.

"Focus," Nicolai commanded softly.

Amelia jumped slightly. "I am."

Nicolai raised a dark eyebrow, looking down at her over her shoulder. "You're looking at me."

Amelia quickly snapped her head forward, clearing her throat. "No, I wasn't."

"Pivot your back foot. Drive the power from your hip, not your shoulder," Nicolai instructed, ignoring her terrible lie. "Go."

Amelia took a breath, twisted her hip the way he had positioned her, and threw a straight punch.

Smack.

The sound echoed sharply through the concrete room, and the massive heavy bag swung backward on its steel chain.

Amelia lowered her fists with a grin. She turned around to face him, her eyes bright with adrenaline.

Nicolai gave a single, slow nod of approval. "Better."

Amelia’s smile widened. "That's basically a compliment coming from you."

Nicolai said nothing. He just looked at her, the heavy silence completely confirming that she was right.

Still riding the small victory, Amelia’s gaze swept the room for one last conquest. She spotted a sleek, motorized treadmill sitting near the far wall.

"This one can't be difficult," Amelia declared, walking over and stepping onto the belt.

She hit the green start button. The machine beeped, and the belt began to move. Amelia hit the speed arrow a few times, instantly bored by the slow walk. The machine hummed louder. She started into a light jog.

Then, the belt accelerated. Rapidly.

Amelia broke into a full run. The control panel was a blur of buttons, and the belt was moving too fast for her to safely reach out and hit the speed dial.

"Okay... that's too fast."

"How do I stop this?!" Amelia yelped, her legs moving frantically just to keep from being thrown into the concrete wall behind her.

Nicolai was there in two strides. He reached past her and hit the emergency stop without a second thought.

The belt jerked to a violent halt.

Amelia’s momentum threw her forward. She stumbled, falling straight off the machine and right into Nicolai’s chest. He caught her instinctively, keeping her on her feet.

Amelia gasped for air, quickly stepping back out of his arms, her cheeks burning bright red with embarrassment.

She looked up at him. Nicolai's expression stayed neutral, but there was the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes. He was trying very, very hard not to laugh.

Amelia pointed a finger right at his chest. "Don't."

"...I'm not," Nicolai replied smoothly.

"You're thinking about it," she accused.

Now that she'd stopped moving, she felt every bit of the workout. Amelia dropped her hand, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead with the back of her wrist.

"Okay..." Amelia breathed, her chest heaving slightly. "I officially hate exercise."

"I noticed," Nicolai said dryly.

Amelia let out a breathless laugh. She leaned against the side of the stationary treadmill, looking up at him. "I'm starving."

Nicolai glanced up at the large digital clock mounted on the concrete wall. "So am I."

Amelia's eyes lit up. "Let's go eat."

Nicolai turned toward the door. "I'll have someone—"

"No," Amelia cut him off.

Nicolai stopped. He looked back at her, his brow furrowing slightly.

Amelia smiled, a genuine, teasing light in her eyes. "You."

Nicolai blinked. "Me."

"You're already in the kitchen mood."

Nicolai stared at her. "...That's not a thing."

"It is now," Amelia challenged.

The silence stretched between them.

Nicolai reached down and picked up his white towel from the bench. He threw it over his shoulder.

"Go shower," Nicolai said, his voice entirely flat.

Amelia grinned. "I'll take that as a yes."

He turned and walked toward the exit of the gym. He didn't look back as he reached the hallway, but his voice echoed back into the concrete room.

"You have fifteen minutes."

The moment he disappeared around the corner, Amelia couldn't stop smiling.