C14, PT. 3

She delighted in surprising him. It was fast becoming her favorite hobby and one of the reasons she forced herself to roll out of bed. She was curious how he would react to her invading his sacred space.

Mo opened the heavy door for her. She stepped into the gym and raised a hand to shield her eyes. The space was well-lit and filled with top of the line equipment. The early hour must be pushing it for other billionaires because the only one occupying the space was hers. Johan nodded to her as he jogged on one of the treadmills in front of the window. Roth was on a mat, doing a plank, body straight as a board, weight braced on his forearms and feet, which were pressed together.

Feeling a little mischievous, she tiptoed over to him. As she neared, his head started to come up. She closed the distance between them at a run, hopped on his back, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Looking good, baby,” she purred.

He easily took her weight while keeping his body completely rigid. When he scanned the gym, it took her a moment to realize he was eyeing Mo and Johan to see how she’d gotten there.

“I called my babysitters. How else would I get here?” she muttered.

“I thought I told you to go back to sleep.”

His tone was even, not winded, despite him dripping with sweat.

“Since when do I obey every word you say?” she taunted.

He tipped abruptly to the right too quick for her to grip him with her legs to stop herself from tumbling off. She landed on her back and blinked when he propped himself over her.

“You obeyed every word I said last night.”

“Sometimes, following orders comes with rewards, but when it doesn’t…” She hooked her leg over his hip and oh so slowly rocked against him. “I do what I want.”

His eyes heated. She met him halfway when his head lowered. She took his hungry kiss, the one he should have given her before he left her in bed, and returned it with interest. She stuck her tongue in his mouth and pulled on his sweaty hair.

“Boss.”

He lifted his head at Johan’s warning a second before the door opened. A tall man with headphones on came in. He didn’t look around as he made his way over to a treadmill and started it up with quick, impatient jabs. Apparently, he wasn’t happy to be up at this hour, either.

Roth looked down at her. He didn’t say a word, but she knew he was trying to decide whether to work out or work her.

She held her hands up innocently. “I didn’t come to distract you.”

His eyes narrowed, making her laugh. The man on the treadmill turned his head in their direction. Immediately, she quieted, not wanting to draw attention to them or bother anyone who woke at this hour to exercise in blessed silence.

“I just came for moral support,” she said as she wriggled out from under him. “I’m going to walk on the treadmill.”

He didn’t stop her as she made her way over to Johan and hopped on the treadmill beside him. She set an easy pace, staring out at the city that had yet to wake. She quickly realized that she should have brought headphones. The gym was as quiet as a church aside from the occasional grunt of a man lifting weights, the door opening as more men trickled in, and Johan and the guy several machines down running full out. She felt like a slacker beside Johan, who had been running for close to forty minutes with the treadmill inclined. Peer pressure had her inclining her own machine and leveling up to a light jog. By the time Roth appeared beside her and smacked the stop button, she was seconds away from a cramp.

“Wha…” she gasped as the belt slowed. She tried not to clutch the stitch in her side. “What’d you do that for?”

“You said you were going to walk,” he said, clearly displeased, as he offered her a bottle of water.

“I decided to run.” She gulped greedily and leaned on the handrail as she rotated her foot to stop the oncoming cramp in her calf.

“You’re going too hard.”

“Says the man who works out two to three times a day,” she drawled.

“I’m conditioned for it. You aren’t.”

“No need to rub it in.”

“I’m not. I don’t want you sore.” When she raised a brow, he glared at her. “I want you sore from what I do to you, not from a fucking treadmill.”

“Roth.”

They turned as the man three treadmills down strolled over. He tugged his headphones down so they hung around his neck. He had dark brown eyes, high cheekbones, and unruly brown hair.

“This must be your wife,” the stranger said in an accented tone that made her straighten.

Apparently, the stranger was well acquainted with Roth because he wasn’t deterred by Roth’s aggressive stance or hostile silence. The man came to the end of her treadmill and offered his hand.

“Heinrich.”

She stepped forward. “Jasmine.” She cocked her head to the side and said in German, “What are you doing up at this hour?”

His eyes widened slightly before he shot an amused glance at Roth and replied in his native tongue. “Doing the same thing as your husband. Avoiding everyone as much as possible.” He gave her a considering look before he said, “We’re new to the United States. My wife doesn’t have many friends and speaks limited English. Would you mind meeting with her?”

She didn’t bat an eyelash at the request. “Of course. I’m sure we can arrange something.”

Johan jumped off his treadmill. When she glanced at him, his eyes dipped to Heinrich’s hand that she was still holding. Hastily, she released him and stepped back toward Roth.

“Great,” Heinrich said, abruptly reverting back to English. “What’s your number?”

She wrapped her arm around Roth’s shoulders, as he started toward Heinrich. “Honey, isn’t this great?” she gushed brightly. “Heinrich’s wife and I are going to get together for some girl talk, so he’ll pass my number onto her.”

**This is a raw draft of Bitter Confessions. Please do not share or distribute.

Copyright © 2024 Mia Knight. All Rights Reserved.