Leon's patience seemed bottomless as he watched Lucien—a faint, indulgent tilt to his mouth.

"Fine—I'll teach you," Leon murmured. "Just promise you won't spend every session trying to knock my head off."

Lucien brandished a small, pale fist—his eyes sparking.

"Who else would I hit? I'm going to ride on your back and swing until you beg for mercy."

Leon's gaze darkened instantly—tracking the movement of Lucien's lips before dropping lower.

"Is that a promise?" Leon's voice was a rough, gravelly scrape.

Lucien froze—his gaze following Leon's to the sudden, obvious tension in the man's training pants.

"You... you!"

Lucien sputtered—his face flaming a vivid, indicting shade of red.

Leon didn't blink—shrugging with a lethal kind of casualness.

"It just means I'm biologically functional—nothing more."

Lucien grit his teeth—spinning around to hide his embarrassment.

"I know you're functional! Go take a shower!"

Lucien flopped onto a bench—scrolling through his phone while the sound of running water echoed from the locker room.

Jamie—or "Honey"—had sent a link about a new "Distance" feature on Twi.

I bet my whole list is at negative distance right now, Jamie's text read.

Lucien rolled his eyes—scrolling past the usual noise to find his most frequent contact.

[Saoirse].

The little icon next to the name pulsed—33m.

Lucien's heart skipped—his head snapping up to scan the empty gym.

Leon, Joey, and Rick—the only ones here today.

He clicked into the chat—staring at the old photos Saoirse had sent of a lean, cut torso and rock-hard abs.

He looked at the gym mirror—then at the photos—then back at the mirror.

Leon.

Lucien's thumb flew across the glass—scrolling back to the very first message.

The night before the farm trip—that was when it started.

"That absolute... snake," Lucien hissed—kicking his legs against the bench.

Leon stepped out minutes later—steam clinging to his broad shoulders and a towel slung low on his hips.

He stopped—narrowing his eyes at the way Lucien was vibrating with suppressed rage.

"What? I didn't even kiss you today," Leon noted—reaching for a clean shirt.

Lucien stood up—crossing his arms to look intimidating—an effort ruined by his oversized, soft hoodie.

"Leon Bolton—you have exactly ten seconds to tell me every secret you're keeping."

Leon's hand paused—fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

"Every secret?" Leon asked—his voice dropping into that dangerous register.

"Start talking—or the 'No-Kissing Order' becomes a lifetime ban."

Leon exhaled—a heavy, defeated sound that signaled a total surrender.

"Fine. I paid off Chen Fang to get him to Vegas and out of your hair."

Lucien blinked—staggering back a step as the pieces clicked together.

"You paid him? How much?"

"A hundred grand," Leon muttered—refusing to meet his eyes.

"A hundred grand?!" Lucien shrieked—his voice echoing off the high ceilings.

"He only asked me for twenty! You're a total idiot!"

Leon stepped closer—closing the distance until Lucien was caged against the bench.

"I wanted him gone—and I want you to manage the money from now on."

"Keep talking," Lucien demanded—poking a finger into Leon's solid chest. "What else?"

Leon grit his teeth—a muscle jumping in his sharp jawline.

"I took a pair of your underwear last week."

Lucien's jaw dropped—his face turning a nuclear shade of pink.

"And a shirt," Leon added—his voice a low, possessive rumble.

"And that video call? I wasn't just 'training.' I was looking at your photos... taking care of things."

Lucien sat down hard—his brain officially short-circuiting.

"You... you're actually a freak."

"I'm your freak," Leon corrected—hoisting Lucien effortlessly into his lap.

"And the Twi account?" Lucien whispered—his chin resting on Leon's shoulder.

Leon went still—his grip on Lucien's waist tightening.

"Saoirse is you—isn't it?"

"I saw the app on your phone," Leon admitted—burying his face in Lucien's neck. "I just wanted to talk to you more."

"You sent me thirst traps!" Lucien huffed—biting Leon's shoulder through the new shirt.

Leon let out a low, satisfied hum that Lucien felt in his bones.

"You liked them. You gave me a heart."

"I'm docking fifty points," Lucien declared—though he didn't pull away.

"Give me back my stuff when we get home—do you hear me?"

Leon's smirk was hidden against Lucien's skin—dark and hungry.

"No. Finders keepers, baby."