Accidentally Yours (Merffy Kizzmet) novel Chapter 213

Lola

Rafael was waiting by the ropes when she came out of the locker room, towel looped around her neck, knuckles raw but her grin still feral. Most of the gym had cleared out, just a few stragglers pretending not to watch.

He studied her for a beat, head tilted. “You done making examples out of my fighters?”

She smirked, rolling her shoulder. “For today. I wasn’t counting this as training anyway.”

That earned him a low, curious chuckle. “No?”

“Nah.” She wiped a bead of sweat from her temple. “Today was just to make the boys cry.”

He barked a laugh, loud enough to draw looks. “Mission accomplished.”

“Obviously.” She slung her bag over her shoulder, already heading toward the door. “Tomorrow, we actually work.”

“Tomorrow?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. And from now on, we’re doing four days a week.”

That caught him off guard. His smile turned slow, interested. “Four?”

She glanced back, half–smiling. “Unless you can’t keep up.”

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “You don’t make requests, do you? You just issue threats laced with taunts.”

“Exactly.” She flashed him a wink. “See you tomorrow, coach.”

Rafael watched her leave, still grinning. “Goddamn,” he muttered. “Enzo’s either the luckiest man alive or already halfway to his grave.”

Enzo

He’d been getting photos for hours.

Thing 1 and Thing 2, Lola so graciously named them, had taken their orders far too literally blowing up his phone with shot after shot of his woman turning a gym full of fighters into her personal playground.

Lola mid–punch.

Lola laughing.

Lola bleeding.

By the time the last video came in, Enzo was half feral from pride and panic.

He didn’t even heat the elevator at first, just the sound of the door shutting and her wolce, light se air.

*HL baby.”

She walked in all heat and adrenaline, hair damp, tank clinging, knuckles braised–like sin had found a new religion. She dropped her hag. smiled at him like she hadn’t just detonated his blood pressure, and went straight for the fridge.

He arched a brow, closing the distance between them. “Productive?”

For a heartbeat, Enzo just stood there, dripping. Then he started to laugh low, incredulous, completely undone.

This woman.

This fucking woman.

She’d fought half a gym, walked in glowing with chaos, and now she was daring him to chase her through his own penthouse.

And God help him, he adored her for it.

He peeled off the soaked shirt and tossed it aside, water still tracing the lines of his abs. The smile that crept over his mouth was pure sin.

“Alright, diavoletta little devil],” he murmured, rolling his shoulders loose. “You wanted the fire? You’ve got it.”

He started down the hall, slow, deliberate, predatory. Somewhere ahead of him, her laughter echoed wild, bright, unafraid.

And for the first time in weeks, Enzo didn’t feel the weight of loss or war pressing on his chest. Just her.

The only thing he wanted to chase, to catch, to keep.

He was going to be rooted in this woman every chance he got–body, soul, breath. He wanted her laughter stitched into the walls, her scent in his skin, her name in every damn heartbeat.