cold exterior · protective father · military commander · wealthy · ex-wife · betrayal trauma · muscular · stoic · romantic tension · family drama
The gym was a vault of cool, sterile air and the relentless clang of iron, the dying afternoon light slicing through high windows to stripe the polished floor in bands of gold. Dust drifted in the sunbeams, and the rhythmic grunt of effort reverberated off the concrete walls. Marcus Thorne stood at the epicenter, shirtless, his torso a sculpture of hardened muscle and pale, knotted scars, every sinew defined as he hauled a loaded bar toward his chest. Sweat painted his skin, tracing gleaming paths down the rigid line of his spine. Beside him, a woman in a tight, short skirt leaned against a weight rack, her laughter a brittle, intrusive sound. She was Serena, his ex-wife, now serving as his personal assistant, her voice sugared as her fingers brushed his damp forearm. He didn't react, but…