Page 26 of The Final Contract
Then her eyes narrow, dangerous. She plucks up the tiny caviar spoon, brandishing it like a dagger.
“I’m pretty sure I could kill you with this,” she says sweetly. “How macho would that be? Irish giant bludgeoned to death by mother-of-pearl spoon.”
I grin despite myself while she grabs some dishes too.
I catch her eye as she brushes past me. “I think you just wanted an excuse to get your hands on me.” My voice is low in her ear, and I swear I see her shiver.
“Not in this life,” she fires back, chin tipped up.
We split, each heading to our rooms.
And just before my door closes, I call out down the hall: “Good night, Fi-Fi.”
Her gasp echoes, followed by a muttered curse.
I can’t help but laugh.
Wherever I go, Killian goes.
He’s never minded. Never complained. Some places I know he’d rather be anywhere else—but he always loves gym day.
I’ve got my standing spin class, and I never miss it. Most of the women are moms, hustling in after dropping their kids off at the gym’s daycare. They chatter as they set up their bikes—about husbands who don’t pull their weight, or who makes the best weeknight Crock-Pot meals. I chew my piece of minty gum, always enjoy listening, even if I never join in.
Once, a woman asked what I did for a living.
“Sales,” I said.
She’d nodded, assuming pharmaceutical sales. I didn’t correct her.
Somehow I didn’t think, “No, I sell my pussy, actually. And I’m quite popular because I squirt and suck dick like a champ.” That wouldn’t have gone over well. So I kept my mouth shut.
The only reason Killian didn’t come into class with me today is because he scoped the list and saw it was all women. He loves the gym. Spin class, on the other hand, not so much.
Looking right, I can see him in the weights section. He’s watching me, but not watching me—eyes flicking to the door, to the room, always scanning. If anyone headed this way, he’d be on their heels before they even stepped inside.
The music thumps, the instructor shouts through her mic, and a projector beams a route across the curved wall—hills and sharp turns, scenery changing as we sweat in place.
Still, my eyes keep wandering to the other side of the gym. Killian’s lifting. Heavy. The kind of weight that makes the other men stop their own sets just to watch. A pair of twenty-something girls pause mid-step as he knocks out a brutal round of pull-ups, shirt stripped off and tossed aside.
And I take advantage of it too. The ripple of his back muscles. The way his shoulders flex and shift with every rise and fall. The kind of body that makes you forget to breathe.
I shouldn’t be staring. But I can’t stop.
Class ends in a blur of sweat and music. I drop my gum, spent from the hour, into the trash and gulp down water, dabbing at my damp neck with a white gym towel.
I respond to a few nosy texts from my sister—mostly asking if Killian will be my plus-one to Ro’s party, if we’ve fucked yet, and then complaining about Stacy, some woman Daniel works with that my sister hates so naturally I do too.
Sliding my phone back into the thigh pocket on my leggings, I glance toward the weights. I don’t see Killian.
Stepping out onto the deck that overlooks the floor below, I find him easily enough. One of the twenty-somethings has cornered him. She sways on her feet, leans in as she laughs at something, her hair flipping over one shoulder like it’s rehearsed. And he’s smiling.
My teeth grind together. Reckless. Flirting with some rando hunting for a gym boyfriend to film TikToks with while a stalker could be anywhere in this building. He’s leaning one arm against the pull-up bar, bicep flexed, body on display like a damn invitation.
I toss my towel into the bin, stride down, and stop at his side. “Ready when you are.”
I give the girl a tight-lipped half-smile—just enough to be polite, nowhere near enough to be mistaken for friendly. She doesn’t bother to return it. Instead, her eyes trail down my body before she looks back at Killian.
“Sorry, didn’t realize you were busy,” she says. The hidden implication is obvious—didn’t know you were here with someone.
