12. Journey

Chapter 12

Journey

" W hat a bunch of morons," I mumble in pity as I tug open the suctioned door to FitLand. Musky, cold air blows up my nose. I cringe. "Why am I here? Seriously? Why?"

Exercise is a joke and people who spend hours running on a treadmill are idiots. There are alternative methods by which a person can burn calories. Methods that are way more fun and way more pleasurable. I've heard the term runner's high before, but I doubt it comes anywhere close to that of an orgasm.

That's the ultimate stress reliever.

Cardio...but with a happy ending.

My determined gaze floats around the gym as I walk inside. I could use a happy ending right about now. I unzip my hoodie and slide it off, tucking it under my arm. My chest rises as I spot the walking stress reliever pounding his feet against a whirring treadmill.

I greedily take him in, starting at his slender ankles and slowly making my way up to his lithe body. His quads contract and expand as he runs, arms bent at a perfect 90 degree angle. I tilt my head, licking my lips as I watch his ab muscles pulse in and out, a sheen of tempting sweat glowing under the fluorescent lighting.

"Oh my," I hum to myself, smirking as I strut toward Hayden. "Now I know why I'm here." He doesn't notice me at first as I circle the treadmill, his face tense in concentration as he continues to run.

Jesus, he's hot. Like a perplexing combination of God and Satan—a seemingly innocent aura brimming with clouded darkness that's pulling me in. I stop in front of the machine, dropping my shit on the floor. His magnetic gaze snaps up, and he removes his headphones. He doesn't stop running.

"You know, Doc, there's something to say about a man who can keep a fast and—" I can't help but check out his heaving pecs, "—r hythmic pace."

"Years of practice, Miss Bianco," he says in a breathy tone, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

"Do you apply this practice just at the gym?" I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, my lower gut clenching at all the possibilities. "Or is this a transferable skill?"

His green eyes darken like a couple of snitches. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"I think you know exactly what I mean," I chuckle, tapping my fingers on the digital display as I glance at the screen. "You can probably go for hours , can't you?"

"If you're talking about running then yes." The sharp edge of his jaw clenches as he acts disingenuously aloof. It's kind of cute. "I've competed in a few marathons over the years. "

"Really?" I hum, unwilling to give up this little game of cat and mouse so easily. "I've completed a few marathons myself."

"Is that so?"

"Mhmm." I suck in a sultry breath. "Some of them lasted days ."

"Must have been exhausting." His guarded gaze flicks across my cunning face before inadvertently darting down to my breasts. It's only for a second—the man has excellent control—but it's enough to fill me with the motivation to soldier on.

"Very," I say with a pout. "But totally worth the grand prize, I think."

"I don't know..." He takes a breath, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand as he continues to run. "I've always been a fan of the journey , not the destination ."

God, I live for our innuendo-filled conversations. He can pretend all he wants but I know he's thinking about it too.

How could he not?

Has he seen me?

"I guess it depends on who you're running with, huh?" I shrug. "Some partners are better than others."

"Perhaps you should be more selective with your partners." He raises a brow. "Make the journey more...bearable."

I tilt my head, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip. "Are you selective, Doc?"

"I seldom run with others," he says in a challenging tone. "Most can't keep up. "

"Why?" I know the answer. It's because his energy is the same as mine. An energy that's rooted in the hedonistic desire to bring heaven down to hell. "Often go off course? Like to hit that rocky terrain?" I lower my voice. "Get a little dirty?" I pause, reaching out and swiping my finger across his chiseled chest. I meet his hooded eyes as I slowly drag a salty finger across my tongue. "A little sweaty?"

"Some boundaries I don't cross, Miss Bianco," he grunts, his pupils dilating into a black hole but I'm not sure who's sucking in who. "I'm very cautious of dangerous territories."

"What's life without a little risk, Doc?" My core clenches at the idea of him exploring all my territories, despite deathly repercussions.

"Some risks aren't worth the reward," he says in a forced flat tone. I laugh at the lengths he's going to keep this interaction from going off the deep end. He frowns at me, the edge of his jaw slightly ticking. "What's so funny?".

"Nothing." I cast him a sweet smile. "It's just that you clearly haven't experienced a top-tier destination before. Trust me, it's worth all the risk."

"Really?" His wandering eyes narrow as I slide an elastic off my wrist and twist my hair into a high ponytail. "Well, why don't you hop on beside me, hmm?" He nods to the empty treadmill on his left. "Show me if you'd make a good partner or not. I have a few more inclines left."

He's tough to crack. A hard shell of a man. But I'm a go-getter. Not scared of a challenge. It's been too easy lately. He's upping the ante by not succumbing to my desires. Adding to the already oh-so-full pot. I'll get my winnings one way or another.

I rake my fingers through my hair as I tighten the ponytail, giving it an expert tug.

I always win.

"I should probably stretch first." I hike my foot up high on the edge of his machine. His eyes widen and I grin, touching my toes as I lean over my right leg. I tilt my head in his direction as I expel a tiny moan. "Oh, that feels so fucking good. I love a good stretch."

"Stress can cause muscle tension," he murmurs, watching as I arch my back. "It's important to take care of your body."

"Maybe you can come here and loosen me up a bit," I smirk, switching legs. "I would hate to pull a muscle."

"You seem to be doing a good job at loosening yourself up." Beads of sweat drip down his neck, and I'm so tempted to lick them off.

"Suit yourself," I chuckle, giving him a shrug as I turn around and take a couple of steps forward. I spread my legs, bending down as I place my palms on the floor. I sway my hips from side to side.

In three...two... Behind me, I hear stumbling footsteps and suddenly the treadmill turns off. One. I crane my neck, smiling as Hayden jumps off the machine. He wipes his face with a small white cotton towel. "Done already? I thought you had a few more inclines?"

"Your turn." He glares at me, and I fight a shiver. "Let's see how fast you can actually run, Camilla."

I blink. "I would rather stretch, Doc. "

"I think you've stretched enough." He points to the treadmill. "Get on. We'll start you off easy." I cross my arms defiantly. Is he actually going to make me exercise? "You said you wanted to talk, Miss Bianco. If you want me to listen then I suggest you get moving."

"Fine," I huff, rolling my eyes as I step on the machine. I can play the long game if it means I can taste the prize. "Happy?"

"So..." Hayden hums, standing in front of me, a devious gleam in his green irises. He reaches over the display and changes the setting to a brisk walk. "Tell me what happened tonight?"

"I'm having..." I pause. This might be hard to explain without revealing the truth, but I'm good at twisting my words. "Work issues."

"Work issues?" Hayden raises a brow. "Go on."

"Okay, so I'm trying to secure a new...vendor for the club, right?"

Hayden nods.

I continue. "Well, this partnership would be mutually beneficial to both of our businesses, but since my father isn't the owner of the club anymore, the vendor doesn't want to work with me. Isn't that fucked up? It's the same club it always was but somehow that's not enough for these people!"

"Interesting..." Hayden increases the speed on the treadmill. I frown but don't say anything as I pick up my pace. "Can you ask your father to intervene?"

"No!" I huff. "He's retired and wants me to make all the decisions which is totally unfair seeing as this particular vendor provides...alcohol that we don't normally sell at the club. And you know what's funny?" Hayden doesn't have time to reply as I rant on. "I'm the one who's supposed to be making the decisions, and I don't really wanna serve this type of booze. It's not what our clientele drinks, and frankly it's bound to be... expensive in the long run, so here I am supposedly the boss, but I still have to do as he says? What the fuck, right?"

Hayden nods slowly. "So your father leaves you the business, and says he trusts you to run it, but he still seems to be calling the shots."

"Exactly!"

"How does that make you feel?"

"Angry!" I snap as Hayden increases the speed again. "It pisses me off. Not only do I have to juggle his whims and wishes, but I also have to deal with his business partners who don't fucking like or trust me." I pant, wiping my forehead as I run. "It's so stupid. I thought this would be easier. I thought I was ready. I spent so long preparing myself to eventually take over but now that I have... It's not what I thought it would be."

"What did you think it would be?" he asks, increasing the speed again.

"I don't know," I mumble, my heart racing. "I thought it would be fun, I guess, or something."

"Perhaps your heart's not in it?"

"My heart?" I scoff. "Who the fuck cares about my heart ? This is my family's business, and it's my duty to make sure it survives. I can't allow one hundred years of history to vanish under my control. I can't allow that!"

"That's a lot of pressure—one hundred years."

"Oh, I know," I grunt, blinking away sweat. "Ever since I was little, I was told the tale of the great Bianco come up and how we went from nothing to basically lords overnight. And now it's my responsibility to not only maintain this legacy but to grow it because if we don't, then someone else will take our crown!" My breath catches in my throat. "Oh my God."

"What?"

"I—" My head spins, dots fluttering in my vision as I grip the support bar and straddle the track. "I'm dizzy."

"Jesus..." Hayden circles the treadmill, turning it off as he places his hand on the small of my back, the pressure keeping me upright. "Are you alright?"

I struggle to catch my breath. "I think I might throw up."

Hayden gives me a mocking grin as he helps me down from the machine. "I thought you said you had excellent stamina, Camilla."

"I lied," I breathe, holding my chest. "I lied."

Hayden expels a low, airy laugh. "Clearly." He nods at a nearby drinking fountain. "Let's get you some water, yeah?"

"Too far..." I sink down and sit on the edge of the treadmill. "Can't make it. Might die."

Hayden blinks. "Now you're just being pathetic." He grabs my hand, swiftly pulling me to my feet. "Let's go."

"I don't want to," I whine, my knees weak as he tugs me toward the water fountain. "My legs feel like jelly."

We stop in front of the fountain, and he steps to the side. "Here. Drink." I bend down and press the button, angling my mouth at the spurt. Oh god. So good. He chuckles. "When was the last time you ran? "

"Umm." I twist my neck, looking up at him sheepishly. "Maybe when I was ten?"

He snorts. "I can see why it took you days to run a marathon."

"Hah." I glare up at him. "Good one."

He shrugs with an amused grin. "You talk a big talk, Camilla, but you can't seem to walk it."

"Normally, I'd punch you right now," I say, standing up straight. "But luckily, I don't feel like embarrassing you in front of all these people."

"After that underwhelming display of your athletic prowess—" he nods at the death machine, "—I'm not too worried about your right hook."

"Listen here, Doc." I take a calculated step toward him, glowering up at him. "Just 'cause I can't run, doesn't mean I can't kick your ass in other ways."

"Fine." He cocks his head. "Name your game, Camilla. What will it be?"

"Hmm..." I purse my lips. There's no way I can fight him hand-to-hand right now. Not when I feel like my legs might fall off. "I'll think of something."

"Take your time," he says, walking to the bench press. "We can substitute our next session to test your theory." He sits down, lowering himself on the bench. "Spot me."

"You trust me not to kill you?" I ask as he curls his fingers around the metal bar. "See? You do take risks."

"I ran a mental assessment, and I'm deeming this risk quite low." He groans, lifting the weight off its stand. He shifts his weight, body straining as he begins doing impressive reps. "Do you want to keep talking, Camilla? "

"No." Exhaustion mixed with endorphins courses through my body. "I'm done talking for today."

"Do you feel better though?" He peers up at me. "A little less stressed?"

"Surprisingly, yeah..." I scrunch up my brows. "I do."

"See?" He gives me a lopsided grin as he continues lifting. "Cardio helps."

"Right..." I flick my nails as I scan his features, flight instincts kicking in. "I should go now."

"So soon?" Hayden asks with a smirk. "I could die without you here."

"You'll live," I say, looking at the exit.

Something tells me our journey is just starting, and I'm not sure I'm ready for the destination.