The Wrong Brother's Temptation novel Chapter 210

The Wrong Brother’s Temptation

Chapter 210

Sienna

His eyes moved over me from the top of my hooded head down to my double-knotted sneakers in one slow, unimpressed sweep.

“You’re overdressed.”

I shrugged, suddenly aware of how ridiculous I looked in enough layers to survive a mild winter.

“It’s still a bit chilly.”

“Not for long. You will start taking off your clothes when we begin”

I stared at him for a second, unsure if he was strictly talking about the training or if he meant something else.

But then he simply retrieved a thin wooden ruler from the bench beside him and stepped closer.

Without any warning he tapped it lightly against the middle of my back.

“You’re slouching. You need to maintain your posture”

I jerked upright so fast my spine made a noise I was fairly certain spines shouldn’t make.

He gave a short nod, as if the correction had been the highlight of his evening, then asked,

“You took the meds tonight?”

I shook my head.

“Use your mouth, Sienna”

Again, with the odd choice of words…

“Yes, I mean no, I didn’t take the meds”

“Hmm” He grunted and asked next.

“What kind of training have you had before? Any sports you played before? I need to know where we’re starting.”

Embarrassment burned hot under every layer of clothing I was wearing. Telling him the truth that I had never properly trained, that my idea of exercise was walking to the school library without tripping felt impossible.

Not when he looked like he spent all his time sweating it out in the gym yet somehow also managing to work in the office for long hours.

So I did what any rational adult would do when cornered by an annoyingly attractive alpha with a ruler.

thed.

“Nothing major,” I answered, aiming for a casual tone that somehow got squeaky the more I spoke.

was always beuer at studies than sports, but I participated in school races and the usual sports days. You know…regular stuff.”

I carefully left out the part where “participated” meant one single race, and “regular stuff” meant running the wrong way and eating track.

The closest I had come was sprinting for the school bus in the rain and that one catastrophic sports day in ninth grade.

I had been so determined to prove I wasn’t just a bookworm that I lined up with everyone else, got overexcited when the whistle blew, and promptly ran in the wrong direction for a solid four minutes before realising my mistake. By the time I corrected the course I was so flustered I tripped over my own feet and face-planted in front of half the school.

The PE teacher had patted my shoulder afterward and said. “At least you committed.”

I had committed, all right….I had committed social suicide and never set foot on the race track again.

The memory alone made my ears burn so hot I was surprised they didn’t set the hoodie on fire.

Connor studied me for a second longer than necessary.

“Well. That’s not too bad.”

His phone rang and he picked it up while pointing me toward the open floor space.

“Warm up and loosen your muscles. I’ll take this call quickly”

I nodded as he stepped aside, having no idea what warm up actually meant in practice.

Did he mean he wanted me to wear more sweaters and get warm? But then he also said I had to loosen my muscles.

Shit, I should have looked at some videos instead of browsing through articles.

He seemed to turn and look at me still standing idly before returning to the call so I got into action.

I planted my feet, swung my arms in wide, increasingly desperate circles, then bounced on the spot like a malfunctioning pogo stick that had lost the instruction manual.

I wasn’t sure if that loosened my muscles enough so when that still felt insufficient I added some truly tragic shoulder rolls that made my bones pop and jumped around that looked more like I was trying to step over invisible puddles without getting my socks wet

Connor was apparently done with the call so he turned around to speak to me but then his mouth did something weird as I watched with one eyebrow slowly climbing toward his hairline.

“What are you doing?”

I kept bouncing, fully committed to the bat now because stopping would mean admitting had no clue

“Warming up”

status ine or said anything else.

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