Accidentally Yours (Merffy Kizzmet) novel Chapter 211

Chapter 211

“Just keeping your ego limber.” She grinned, glancing at him over her shoulder. “You’re already impossible to walk past without wanting another round.”

He bent, kissed the spot just below her ear. “Then stop walking past.”

She laughed, low and warm. “Tempting, but I’ve got plans.”

“Plans that don’t involve me?”

“If they did, we wouldn’t be leaving this room.”

“Mm.” His thumb traced the curve of her hip. “That’s what every villain says before they ruin you.”

“You like being ruined,” she shot back.

He grinned, teeth flashing. “Only by you.”

That earned him a quiet breath of laughter and a lazy shove to the chest. “You’re impossible.”

“Mm.” He kissed her shoulder, smiling against her skin. “You love that about me.”

Yeah, I really do.

She slipped away before he could grab her again, snagging her clothes from the chair–black leggings, fitted crop top, hoodie. The soft armor she wore when the world demanded her sharp edges back.

He watched her pull her hair back into Dutch braided pig tails. “You going somewhere?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

“You really don’t want to know.”

“Try me.”

She glanced over her shoulder, smirking. “Rafael’s gym.”

His expression shifted immediately–worry, curiosity, that quiet, protective flicker she’d come to recognize.

“He asked you to come in?”

“Not exactly.”

“Meaning…?”

“Meaning The got shit to dn, the sale, grabbing her bag from the chair. “And part of that includes clearing this forking These ofl my tsb

Alright, time to play.

Lola slung her gym bag over one shoulder and glanced back at the two security guys Enzo had assigned. Dom’s “personal league,” which meant tall, muscled, and allergic to humor. Thing 1 and Thing 2.

“Alright, boys,” she said, sliding her sunglasses down her nose. “You’ve got three jobs. Take pictures, send them to Enzo, and under no circumstance answer his calls.”

Thing 1 frowned. “He’s not gonna like that.”

Lola grinned. “He’s not gonna like any of this. Might as well make it worth it.”

She stepped out before they could argue, boots hitting the ground with purpose. The second she pushed open the gym door, the noise changed–weights still clanked, music still thumped, but heads turned. Big ones. Shaved ones. Dumb ones.

The smell hit her next–sweat, metal, blood, and testosterone so thick she could taste it. Every man in the place had paused mid–rep to look at the tiny, tattooed woman in a crop top and fitted joggers walking in with a pair of suited muscle shadows. Perfect.

A slow smirk curved her mouth as she crossed the floor, boots echoing against the rubber gat. A few whispers rippled through the crowd. One guy in a cutoff tank muttered something about her being lost.

She didn’t even glance at him. “Tell your ego I said hi,” she tossed over her shoulder, climbing straight onto the central mat.

The crowd parted a little. A few of Rafael’s fighters–big, brutal, already sweating through their wraps–watched her with matching expressions of confusion and mild amusement.

Lola dropped her bag at the edge of the ring. “Tell your boss,” she called, loud enough to echo, “I’m ready to start the clock.”

That got their attention.

A ripple of laughter went through the room. One of the guys stepped forward, all biceps and bravado. “You don’t look like you can handle warm–ups, sweetheart.”