Undeterred, I queued my music to my running playlist and headed straight for the unoccupied treadmill. I caught a glimpse of him in the corner—in running shorts and a black tank top—at the pull-up bar. So I wasn’t the only one who had decided to burn off my sexual frustration with exercise.

His head jerked toward me just as I turned my back on him and mounted the treadmill.

I turned it on and quickly got my pace up, upping the speed probably faster than I should have. I wanted to burn off the energy as quickly as possible. Maybe, exhausted, I could find the courage to talk to him after that.

I was all-out sprinting—Christina Aguilera’s “Keeps Getting Better” pounding through my pulse—when he entered my line of vision, standing just in front of me and mouthing something, shaking his head sternly. I shook my head and looked down. He wanted to talk now? Hell no. He could wait. Just like I’d waited up on the top deck while he’d checked in on work.

He didn’t move when I refused to stop running or look at him. Then he reached out and turned off the treadmill. The safety mechanism kicked in and the slow was gradual. If I turned it on again, I’d only fall, because it would start with a much slower speed than the one at which I was running.

When it came to a stop I yanked out my earbuds. “What the hell was that?”

He scowled at me. “You’re going too fast. You didn’t even warm up.”

“I’ll thank you to keep your fucking nose out of my exercise routine.”

“I’m not going to sit back and watch you hurt yourself. You can really fuck yourself up that way.”

“Well, maybe I’m pissed off and I need a good run.”

“Then at least do it properly.”

Heath had told me that Adam was once a runner—probably still was—but that didn’t give him the right to butt in.

I got off the treadmill and was about to walk off—wishing I had my computer and an Internet connection so I could log on to the game and go hack a few hundred orcs. “Emilia.”

I spun on him, face burning. “What?”

“You aren’t ready.”

I knew he wasn’t talking about running now. I stiffened. “And who are you to determine that? It’s my decision. My body. I’m twenty-two years old, for chrissakes. I could go out tomorrow with anyone and—”

“No, you can’t,” he said flatly, hands curling at his sides.

I shook my head. “There’s no agreement if you refuse to go through with it.”

“Oh? So you’ve just decided to do away with our impending bank transfer?”

I swallowed in a tight throat. I needed that money, goddamn it. I shrugged. “Who says you were ever planning to pay me, anyway?”

His jaw bulged. “I never back out of my agreements.”

I shook my head. “I can’t take this. I opened up to you. You asked me to be honest and I was and now…” I gestured wildly. “It’s like you’re punishing me because I told you about my past.”

He approached me, reaching out to touch my cheek. I closed my eyes and jerked my head away from his hand. “Emilia. Look at me.”

I opened my eyes.

“If I didn’t care about you as a person, I wouldn’t give a shit. I’d just do it. But I’m not convinced that it won’t somehow harm you. I’d never forgive myself.

I folded my arms across my chest. “So if not now, when? Never? Adam, I need that money.”

He tilted his head, studying me. “You haven’t even applied to med school yet.”

I glanced away. Could I afford to tell him the real reason? The ranch was literally in trouble. It sounded like a cheesy ‘80s movie plot, but if my mom lost her ranch and the bed-and-breakfast that went along with it, she’d lose her livelihood. And if that happened, there’d be no more cancer therapy. I’d just opened up to him about my personal life, and he’d taken the decision out of my hands. I couldn’t trust him not to do the same if I told him why I really needed the money now.

“I don’t have the whole story, I take it. Why do you need the money?”

I stiffened. “Why should I tell you? So you can use it against me?”

Those midnight eyes were hard. Stern. I lifted my chin, staring him down. Did I have any choice but to go along with his decisions? I let out a slow breath.

His gaze didn’t waver as he watched me intently. “You thought you were the one in control. Now you’re realizing that’s no longer the case.”

I exhaled suddenly, as if he’d just punched me. “I was never in control, was I? You just let me think I was. I’ve always considered myself a smart person—smart enough to get a scholarship and get the grades for medical school, but I’m not a prodigy genius and I’m not going to exhaust myself trying to outthink you. Am I just some little toy to play with until you get bored again?”