Page 29 of An Arranged Virgin for the Bratva

"Good morning," I say, my voice rough with sleep.

“Morning,” she says, rubbing away the sleep from her eyes.

I clear my throat, pushing myself up to sit against the headboard. "We start your training today," I announce without preamble, my tone matter-of-fact.

Sofia blinks, surprise flitting across her features before she schools her expression. "Training?" she echoes, her voice still husky from sleep.

"Yes. If you're going to survive in this world, you need to be prepared." I watch her closely, gauging her reaction. "As you said, I won't always be there to protect you."

She bristles at that, her green eyes flashing. "I don't need your protection," she snaps, sitting up and tossing her hair over her shoulder.

I can't help but smirk at her defiance. "Well, your brothers won’t be there either. Meet me in the gym in thirty minutes."

Without waiting for a response, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand. As I head for the door, I feel her gaze burning into my back.

***

Thirty minutes later, I'm in the gym, twisting my hands as I wait for Sofia. The sound of the door opening makes me look up. She enters, her chin held high, dressed in form-fitting workout clothes that hug her curves.

I swallow hard, forcing my gaze back to my hands. "Ready?" I ask, my voice gruffer than I intended.

Sofia approaches the ring, her steps echoing in the quiet space. "As I'll ever be," she retorts, her tone icy but with an undercurrent of… is that excitement?

I toss her a pair of gloves. "Put these on. We'll start with the basics."

The sound of Velcro ripping fills the air as we both tighten our gloves. I step into the ring, gesturing for her to follow. As she does, I can't help but notice the determined set of her jaw and the fire in her eyes.

This isn't just about training for her, I realize. It's about proving herself—to me, to her brothers, to the world.

I feel a spark of admiration, quickly followed by a surge of protectiveness. I'll make her strong, I vow silently.

But as she takes her stance across from me, her gaze locked on mine, I can't shake the feeling that I might be the one in danger here.

***

I demonstrate a basic jab, my fist cutting through the air. "Like this," I say, keeping my voice neutral. "Now you try."

Sofia mirrors my movement, her form surprisingly good for a beginner. Her blonde hair, tied back in a tight ponytail, swings with each punch.

"Not bad," I grunt, circling her slowly. "Again. Faster this time."

She complies, her green eyes narrowing in concentration. The sharp sound of her fist hitting the air echoes in the gym.

"You're tensing up too much," I observe, moving closer. "Relax your shoulders."

Without thinking, I place my hands on her shoulders, feeling the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of her top. Sofia stiffens at my touch but doesn't pull away.

"Like this," I murmur, gently easing the tension from her muscles.

Our eyes lock, and for a moment, the air between us feels charged. I clear my throat, stepping back. "Now, let's work on your defense."

We continue training, the rhythm of our movements punctuated by the sound of our breathing. Sofia's determination is evident in every line of her body, her focus unwavering despite the sweat beading on her brow.

"Time to put it all together," I announce, raising my hands. "Try to take me down."

Sofia's eyes flash with challenge. She lunges forward, her movements quick but predictable. I dodge easily, catching her wrist and using her momentum to flip her onto her back.

In an instant, I'm on top of her, pinning her to the mat. Our faces are inches apart, and I can feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest against mine.

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