CHAPTER SEVEN

I sat with one leg extended straight ahead and the other angled sharply to the side, stretching as I stared daggers at Marcus, who was busy supervising the younger students. After our earlier conversation, he had mumbled something vague about needing to think it over before stalking off, leaving me frustrated and without a clear answer.

Training hours had since begun, making it three hours since our talk, and still, nothing. Tired of waiting, I pushed myself to my feet, closing the stretch as I stomped toward him.

He turned just in time to see me approach and sighed, deliberately shifting his attention back to his students. Pretending he hadn’t noticed me, he continued giving commands.

“Marcus,” I said sharply, stopping beside him with my arms folded.

“Osborn,” he replied without so much as a glance, his focus still on the class. “Keep your knees straight and your toes pointed out, Tyler—good, hold it there.”

I rolled my eyes and latched onto his arm, tugging him aside. “Seriously, Marcus. I need an answer.”

He tilted his head back and groaned dramatically. “Ugh, Osborn, give it a rest. Forget you ever heard anything and pretend this is just like any regular martial arts studio.” He shot me a pleading smile.

“Sorry, I can't do that.” My tone was firm. “Come on, Marcus. You've always been there for me. You're like my big brother, so why won’t you help me now? I need a job, and you're in a position to help me out, but instead, you're holding back.”

“It's just like you said: I'm like your big brother. And no big brother would let his sister take on a dangerous job like this.” He brushed past me, heading back toward his students.

“It's a protection Job, Marcus. How dangerous can it be?” I called after him, my voice rising in frustration.

That stopped him. He turned sharply, marched back, and grabbed my arm, pulling us into the hall where no one else could hear.

“How dangerous can it be?” he repeated, arching a brow. “Osborn, when you’re dealing with the underground world, everything is dangerous. These people are manipulative, selfish, and constantly trying to outdo one another. That's why they have so many enemies—and why they need bodyguards. You never know what might happen, even on a so-called protection job.”

I yanked my arm free from his grip, rubbing it where his fingers had dug into my skin. “I can handle myself, Marcus. I get that you're worried about me, but refusing to let me take this job is like saying all the training I’ve done at your academy means nothing. Trust me. Trust in your own teaching for once.”

He circled the hall, his hands on his head, clearly conflicted. “You just don't get it,” he said finally. “These people won't hesitate to kill. Some of them have more experience fighting than you’ll ever have. How are you supposed to—”

“That's why you're in charge!” I cut him off. “Find me the job that's least likely to have any of those complications, and we’re good to go.”

Marcus opened his mouth to argue, but I quickly stepped closer and took his hands in mine. “Please, Marcus. I really need this.”

I held his gaze, willing him to see how much this meant to me. Slowly, his expression softened, and with a heavy sigh, he nodded.

“Fine,” he relented. “But the protection Job I have requires you to start tomorrow.”

“Awesome! I can't think of a better way to spend my day tomorrow.”

He gave me a weary look, turning back toward the training room. Over his shoulders, he called, “Meet me in my office after training to finalize the details and make it official. Don't be late.”

Grinning ear to ear, I yelled, “Thank you!” but quickly slapped a hand over my mouth when he shot me a sharp look that clearly said, Keep it down.

As he disappeared into the room, my excitement bubbled over. I couldn’t believe I’d actually convinced him.

“What's got you so excited?” a familiar voice called from behind, startling me.

I turned to see Kira standing nearby, her water bottle poised at her mouth, ready to take a drink. I chuckled nervously.

“Nothing really,” I said, waving my hand dismissively. “Just woke up on the right side of the bed today.”

She gave me a skeptical look while she drank, then capped her bottle. “Wanna spar?”

I was about to say yes when the thought of Reid crossed my mind. “Ah, why not? Be there in a few.” Before she could respond, I hurried past her, heading for the changing room, hoping to find him there.

As I walked, I realized I hadn't come up with a strategy to help Reid improve, despite promising him I would. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the door handle to his training room and pushed it open.

I found him lying on the ground again, just like when we first met, but this time his hands were clasped behind his head, and his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“Hey,” I called, breaking him out of his daydream.

He immediately sat up, a smile spreading across his face. “I thought you'd never come.”

“I said I would, and I always keep my promises.”

“Hmm, just learned something new about you today. I like people who keep their promises.” He said, getting to his feet and dusting off his joggers.

I tried not to blush at his comment as I approached him. “Shall we?”

“Sure.” He assumed a ready stance.

In less than two minutes, I had him flat on his back. I laughed, offering him a hand. “Okay, you really suck.”

He laughed too, taking my hand. “I thought we already established that last time?”

“Yeah, my bad.” I put my hand on my hips, circling him. “Okay, I've noticed you can't keep your balance—that's why it's so easy for me to knock you down. Show me your ready stance again.”

He spread his legs wide, his back leg raised slightly on his toe, the other extended forward. His body was bent low, one hand near his leg, the other drawn back in a defensive posture.

I shook my head. He was wobbling, struggling to stay upright. “You're doing too much, Reid.”

I moved closer, adjusting his stance. I lifted his hand higher and aligned his arms into a straight line for better blocking. Then I repositioned his legs.

“Stop putting all your weight on your toes. Relax on your heels, bring your feet close together, and tighten your core. Bend slightly, but don't overdo it.”

He followed my instructions, bouncing lightly on his heels. “Yeah, this feels much better,” he said, grinning.

“See? Now that we've fixed your stance, I'll teach you how to defend before we work on attacking.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he said with mock seriousness, making me stifle a laugh.

After an hour of defensive techniques and another explaining attacks, we moved on to sparring.

“Okay, Reid, show me that the last two hours weren't wasted.”

He nodded, assuming the stance I'd taught him. He circled, his focus razor-sharp. I smiled and lunged without warning.

I threw a flurry of punches, following up with surprise kicks. To my amazement, he blocked each one, his movements quick and precise.

He laughed, clearly impressed with himself. That's when I saw my opening. Dropping low, I swept his legs, catching him off guard. He hit the ground with a groan, and I flinched, worried I'd gone too far.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to—”

“It's okay,” he groaned, sitting up. “Did you see me? I was like a ninja!”

I blinked at his sudden shift in mood but then saw the excitement in his eyes and laughed. “No kidding. I was scared of you for a second.”

He smiled. “Now you're just making fun of me.”

“Sorry.” I said, doubling over in laughter. He joined in, and I added. “You're improving. I'm so happy for you.”

“Me too!” He stopped laughing, and took my hand. “Thank you.”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool, though my heart raced. Reid Windsor is holding my hand. Ahhh!

“I told you I'd help, and like I said, I always keep my promises.”

“You sure do,” he chuckled, letting go of my hand. He reached for the hem of his sweat-soaked tank top, and I swallowed hard.

“Reid—”

“Yeah?” He paused. “Oh, sorry. Do you mind?”

“No, it's fine. But I actually wanted to talk about something else.”

“O..kay.” He dropped back to the ground, abandoning his attempt to remove the shirt . I felt a twinge of disappointment but pushed it aside as I joined him.

“Reid, I might be gone for a few days, so our sparring session will have to wait. But you can keep practicing while I'm away.”

“Oh,” he said, his excitement deflating. “How long?”

“I'm not sure.”

“Just when I had hope,” he muttered, turning away.

I felt like I'd ruined everything. “I promise I'll be back. I always try to keep my promises, don't I?”

“Yeah, but I might not be here when you get back.”

My heart sank. “What? Why?”

“Sorry, I can't say. But I'm glad I got to meet you. I guess this is goodbye.”

“No, wait—what?” My mind reeled. “I mean you're a celebrity. I could find you again, right?”

“As much as I’d like that…no. I know this might come off rude, but I don't mix my personal life with work or family.”

That stung more than I'd like to admit, but I forced my face to stay neutral. “So… which category am I in?”

“Personal,” he admitted. “Which is why we can't be seen together outside this room.”

Each word hurt more than the last. I snorted, shaking my head. “Wow. I guess I was wrong about you.”

Before he could reply, I turned and ran out of the room. I thought I heard him try to say something, his voice faint and uncertain—probably because he didn't know my name. Not that it mattered.

Grabbing my things from the changing room, I figured training hours were over and Marcus was probably waiting for me. I made my way to his office.

“You're late,” He said, glancing up from his paperwork.

“Sorry. You didn't really mention a time.”

He eyed me curiously. “Everything okay?”

“Don't want to talk about it.”

Not pushing further, he handed me a file. “Here's everything you need to know about the job. Take a look.”

My heart raced as I opened the file, only to freeze when I saw the attached picture. No way.

“Marcus," I managed to choke out, my voice barely steady. "Who am I supposed to guard? Who's the client?”

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. “Your client is Klaus Windsor. He’s hiring you to act as a bodyguard for a day…" He paused, his gaze flicking to mine. "...for his son, Reid Windsor.”

The file slipped out of my hands, the room suddenly feeling small. Of all people—why him?