Dear Reader,
This is a republish of Chapter 3. When it published I noticed half of the story was not included
Claire had spent the entire weekend telling herself she wasn't obsessed. She was just... curious. But curiosity didn't make a woman track down a man's gym schedule. Curiosity didn't lead her to Alexandra McClear.
Yet there she had been, sitting across from David Williams' business partner, wine glass in hand, pretending the conversation was casual. Alexandra McClear was a woman who had seen it all.
Sharp, poised, and effortlessly intimidating, she had built a reputation in the investment world as ruthless--a woman who didn't just navigate power plays but orchestrated them. She had the striking features of someone who knew her worth, and her dark brown eyes held an intelligence that was difficult to fool.
Claire had worked Alexandra before, but they hadn't ever been on social terms, so Alex found it curious when Claire had called and invited her to dinner, not as business associates, but socially. Tonight, however, Claire had made sure their paths crossed more... intentionally.
They sat in a dimly lit cocktail bar, Alexandra sipping on a martini while Claire swirled her own glass of wine.
"I have to admit," Alexandra mused, her lips curving with intrigue, "I didn't expect a dinner invitation from you, Claire."
"Well," Claire said smoothly, "I realized we should be better acquainted. We've worked well together in the past, and yet we've never actually sat down and talked - you know girl to girl."
Alexandra arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "And this realization struck you out of nowhere?"
"Something like that."
A pause. Then a slow, knowing smirk. "This wouldn't have anything to do with David, would it?"
Claire was good. Very good. But Alexandra was better. The real estate developer kept her expression carefully neutral. "Should it?"
Alexandra chuckled softly, taking a slow sip of her drink. "David has that effect on people."
"What effect is that?" Claire asked as she sipped her wine
"Women either want to tame him or be destroyed by him."
Claire felt a sharp flicker of heat low in her stomach, but she ignored it, keeping her voice light. "You sound like you speak from experience."
Alexandra laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, God, no. David and I are strictly business. I prefer my men a little less..." she waved a hand vaguely, "intense. Besides, Emily was his world. How is your husband by the way? He was driving the car..."
Claire interrupted, "He was. He has healed physically, but he still has his moments of grief." She steered the conversation back to where she intended, "So, you know him well?" she pressed, swirling her wine.
"Better than most," Alexandra admitted, studying Claire with clear amusement. "Why? Has he caught your attention?"
"Jonathan had him over for dinner on Thursday and I just wanted to get to know a bit more about him. That's all."
Alexandra tilted her head, considering. "Mmm hmm. I see. David is... direct. He doesn't play games, and he doesn't waste time." She set her glass down and leaned forward slightly. "If you want something from him, Claire, be sure you're prepared for what happens when he decides he wants something back."
Claire held her gaze, a silent acknowledgment passing between them.
Then Alexandra smiled knowingly. "He works out at Iron Haven Gym every morning at seven, if you just happen to run into him. But don't say you weren't warned."
Claire stepped into Iron Haven Gym at precisely 7:00 AM Monday morning. She had dressed the part--sleek black leggings, a fitted top that hinted at curves without trying too hard. Her hair was up, effortless, but intentional. Prepared, but not obvious.
The place smelled of metal, sweat, and determination. The rhythmic clang of weights, the steady hum of treadmills, the sharp exhale of exertion--it was intoxicating in its rawness. And then she spotted him. David Williams.
He was on the bench press, his massive frame stretched out, power in every controlled movement as he pushed the heavy bar upward. The black compression shirt molded to him, highlighting every muscle--thick arms, broad shoulders, the sharp taper of his waist.
Claire had always been drawn to sharp minds, men who wielded intellect like a weapon. But watching David now, watching the raw power in his body, the effortless way he commanded his own strength--she felt something entirely different. A slow, simmering heat.
He moved with precision, with purpose, as though he wasn't just lifting weights but mastering them. And he hadn't once looked in her direction. It made her pulse spike with frustration.
"And over here is our free weight section," a bright voice cut in beside her, breaking her focus.
Claire turned to see Mia, the young trainer assigned to give her a tour. Mia had an athletic build, a tight ponytail, and an expression that quickly turned mischievous the moment Claire requested to see the free weight area.
"Ohhh, okay," Mia hummed, barely suppressing a smirk.
Claire lifted a perfectly arched brow. "Something amusing?"
Mia gave a slow, knowing glance toward David, who was now moving into a set of lateral raises, his arms flexing with each precise lift. "Just that most people looking for a gym membership don't start in the heavy lifting section."
Claire didn't blink. "Maybe I want to switch up my routine."
Mia crossed her arms. "Uh-huh. Sure."
Claire exhaled through her nose, unimpressed by the trainer's audacity, but damn it, she wasn't wrong.
Mia chuckled, shaking her head. "You want the tour, or are you just going to stand here and wait for him to notice you?"
Claire's jaw tightened. Because for the first time in forever, she wasn't the one in control. And David? He wasn't playing. Not yet.
Claire had always prided herself on being a woman in control.
But as David Williams set down his weights and turned toward her, she felt that control begin to slip. The moment he stood, rolling his shoulders as he exhaled, Claire's eyes betrayed her--tracking every single movement.
Broad chest, thick arms, powerful legs. The black compression shirt clung to him like a second skin, emphasizing the carved ridges of his torso. And then there were the gray sweatpants and a bulge that he couldn't hide if he tried. She swallowed.
It wasn't fair. No man should be built like this. And it certainly wasn't fair that he knew exactly what he was doing to her. David walked toward them with an easy, confident stride, a faint sheen of sweat on his skin, a towel draped around his thick neck. His expression was polite--casual, even--but his eyes?
Those sharp green eyes pinned her in place. "Claire," he greeted smoothly, his deep voice sending a hum through her body.
Mia straightened beside her, perking up instantly. "Hey, Davey."
Claire's stomach tightened. Davey?
David smirked slightly, glancing at the trainer. "Mornin, Mia."
