Page 15 of Forbidden Access

Thorn was a problem all on her own. She was beautiful, there was no denying that—fierce and capable, with those intense green eyes that seemed to cut right through him. But that only made things worse.

It was infuriating, the way she got under his skin, how her presence in the house made him hyper-aware of every little thing. The way she moved, the way her strawberry blonde hair caught the light, even the way she looked at him—like she was constantly evaluating, judging.

It wasn’t just the physical presence that bothered him, it was the constant reminder that he was in danger, that people wanted him dead. It was a reality he’d grown accustomed to over the years, especially working with Alek Markov, but he’d thought that was in the past. Having it thrown in his face every day, especially by someone who was so goddamn attractive, was starting to wear him down. He hated feeling vulnerable, hated the thought that he couldn’t protect himself.

He switched to a series of brutal jabs, each one harder than the last. How the hell had he ended up here? The decisions he’d made in his twenties had been bold, rebellious even. Now, they were coming back to haunt him in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

He’d been a different person back then, driven by ambition and a desire to disrupt the system. Now, he was paying the price for that ambition, and it was more than he’d bargained for.

Christine quitting had been the final straw. She was collateral damage in a war he hadn’t intended to start. He didn’t care about most people, but Christine had been loyal, professional. He regretted dragging her into this mess. She hadn’t deserved to be lied to, especially not by him.

Damian’s punches slowed as exhaustion set in. His muscles burned, his knuckles ached, but his mind was no clearer than when he’d started. The frustration was still there, simmering just beneath the surface.

The problem wasn’t just Thorn, or Christine, or even the threats against his life. It was the realization that, despite all his success, he was still vulnerable. That his decisions had led him to this point, where he couldn’t trust anyone, couldn’t even trust himself to make the right choices anymore.

It didn’t help that he couldn’t stop thinking about Thorn. Even when she was challenging him, pushing his buttons, there was something about her that drew him in.

Shit. It was maddening.

He didn’t need the distraction, didn’t need to be thinking about the way her lips curved when she was about to say something sharp or how her body moved with a lethal grace. He sure as hell didn’t need to be wondering what it would be like to kiss her, to run his hands over that toned, athletic body of hers.

The punching bag swayed gently in front of him, the chain creaking under its weight. Damian wiped the sweat from his brow, his breathing heavy.

He sank to the floor, letting his back hit the cool tile as he stared up at the ceiling. The storm inside was still raging, but thanks to the physical exertion, it had lost some of its intensity.

Damian raked a hand through his sweat-damp hair. He couldn’t keep going like this, cornered by his own emotions.

By the frustrating, undeniable attraction to the one person he should be keeping at arm’s length.

Thorn was just doing her job, as much as it irritated him to admit it. If he wanted any chance of regaining control of his life, he’d have to find a way to work with her, not against her.

As he showered, Damian considered his options.

He could ask for another operative, but what would that solve? Thorn wasn’t the problem—his situation was. Replacing her wouldn’t change the fact that he was trapped in this mess. Besides, as much as she annoyed him, she was good at what she did. He respected that.

No, what he needed was a new approach.

They’d cleared the air, more or less, and now it was time to focus on the bigger picture.

The wedding photoshoot was later this afternoon, and the thought of it made his skin crawl, but it was necessary. They needed the cover, the appearance of normalcy. It was all part of the plan to protect him until he could fix what he’d broken.

He dried off, his mind still churning.

No more dwelling on the past. No more regrets.

No more thinking about his sexy goddamn personal protection agent who seemed to enjoy making his life difficult.

He had to look forward, had to focus on what needed to be done.

CryptoCon was coming up fast, and with it, his moment of truth.

If he survived this, things would change.

He’d make sure of it.

Damian dressed quickly, pulling on a pair of jeans and a simple black T-shirt. There was still work to do before the photoshoot, and he wasn’t about to let his frustrations—or his confusing feelings for Thorn—derail him.

CHAPTER 6

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