Chapter 87: The Lesson

Sienna dug through the pile of shopping bags still stacked in the corner of the bedroom, most of them still unopened from the day before.

She had a feeling, even before she started digging, that Aria hadn’t stopped at dresses and lingerie.

Sure enough, tucked near the bottom of one bag, she found a small collection of workout clothes, all of them, predictably, far more revealing than anything Sienna would have chosen for herself.

She held up a black bodycon jumpsuit, turning it over in her hands, debating for a moment before finally shrugging and pulling it on anyway.

It fit like a second skin, hugging every curve of her body, the fabric stretching smoothly as she moved. She twisted her hair up into a quick bun, laced up a pair of sneakers, and caught her own reflection in the mirror before heading downstairs.

She looked, she had to admit, pretty amazing.

When she stepped back out into the training yard, Viktor’s reaction confirmed it instantly. His eyes swept over her once, slow and unguarded, and for a brief moment, all his usual composure seemed to slip entirely.

"Are you trying to kill your own husband," he asked, his voice rougher than usual, "wearing that?"

Sienna ignored the comment completely, choosing instead to answer with action.

Without warning, she swung her fist toward him, aiming for his jaw the way she’d seen in movies a hundred times, some small, satisfied part of her finally relishing the chance to hit him, even just in practice.

Who wouldn’t want that chance, after everything?

Viktor caught her fist easily, his reflexes far faster than hers, closing his fingers gently but firmly around her hand before it ever landed.

"Good punch," he said, an approving note creeping into his voice despite the ease with which he’d blocked it.

"But keep your wrist straighter. Like this." He adjusted her hand slightly, guiding her knuckles into proper alignment. "Try again."

She threw another punch, then another, Viktor correcting her stance each time, patient in a way she hadn’t quite expected from him.

After a while, he reached behind himself and pulled a small training knife from a nearby table, handing it to her carefully, blade dulled for practice.

"Always go for the soft spots," he said, pointing briefly toward his own throat, the inside of his wrist, the space just beneath his ribs. "Here. Here. And here. Now, try again."

Sienna gripped the knife tightly and lunged toward him, aiming for his side. Viktor caught her wrist easily again, twisting just enough to disarm her without ever hurting her, clearly holding himself back, playing with her the way an experienced fighter toys with a beginner.

She scowled, frustration building with every failed attempt, determined now to land something, anything, that he wouldn’t see coming.

They continued like that for several long minutes, Sienna attacking again and again, Viktor deflecting each attempt with an infuriating ease that only made her more determined.

Sweat began to bead along her hairline, her breathing growing quicker, her muscles burning from the unfamiliar exertion.

But slowly, she began to notice small patterns in his movements, small openings she hadn’t caught before.

Finally, she saw her chance.

She feinted left, the way he had unconsciously trained her to expect a counter from that side, then twisted sharply right instead, driving forward with all her weight.

Viktor, caught slightly off guard for the first time all morning, stumbled back a step, and Sienna pressed her advantage, shoving hard against his chest.

They went down together, hitting the soft training mat with a heavy thud, Sienna landing squarely on top of him, straddling his waist, the dulled training knife pressed triumphantly against the side of his throat.

"I got you," she breathed, equal parts shocked and thrilled, a wide, victorious grin spreading across her face.

Viktor stared up at her for a moment, something flickering behind his dark eyes that had nothing to do with the fight at all.

"You did," he agreed quietly.

Then, slowly, his hand moved.

It started at her thigh, resting there for just a moment, before sliding lower, settling firmly against the curve of her backside, his grip warm and deliberate. Sienna’s breath caught sharply in her throat, her whole body going still, the triumphant grin melting instantly off her face, replaced by something far more complicated.

"Every second counts," Viktor said, his voice low, almost a murmur now, his eyes never leaving hers. "Never let your enemy distract you."

Before she could fully process what was happening, he moved.

In one smooth, practiced motion, Viktor flipped their positions entirely, rolling her beneath him with an ease that made her earlier victory feel almost laughable in comparison.

Sienna landed on her back against the mat, breath knocked slightly out of her, and looked up to find Viktor now hovering directly above her, his forearms braced on either side of her head, his body pressing close, far too close, the training knife slipping harmlessly from her fingers onto the mat beside them.

Sienna froze completely.

His face was so close to hers now that she could see every small detail she usually only allowed herself to notice in careful, stolen glances, the faint scar above his eyebrow, the sharp, unreadable darkness of his eyes, the slight, ragged edge to his breathing that matched her own far too closely for comfort.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. The training yard around them seemed to fall completely silent, the distant sounds of the other guards fading into nothing, the whole world narrowing down to the small, charged space between their bodies.

Sienna’s heart slammed hard against her ribs, that same frantic rhythm returning full force. Ta-ta-ta. Dum-dum. She was fairly certain, in that moment, that Viktor could feel it too, pressed as close as he was.

His eyes dropped briefly, lingering on her mouth, and for one long, suspended second, Sienna genuinely believed he might lean down and close the distance between them entirely.

"I didn’t see anything, I swear!"