When she entered the training room, Deacon looked at her, then at Knox, and said, “Jesus. This again?”

Shiori ignored him.

Knox waited for her on the mat. No hint of smile on his face; just the determined set of his jaw.

“How do you want me?”

That seemed to fluster him for a second before he barked, “Standing sweep.”

Knox grabbed on to her and tried to drive her into the floor.

She turned her upper body but kept her feet planted—tricky to execute without ending up with torn ligaments in her knee—and pushed on his center of gravity.

It knocked him back a step, as she’d intended, but his balance recovery was quick. So instead of her dog piling him, he crushed her back to his chest in a bear hug and at the same time he swept her feet out from under her.

They hit the mat hard.

Shiori threw her leg on the outside of his and pushed off with her other foot, which allowed her to control the direction they rolled.

Somehow she’d telegraphed her intent, because Knox countered and shoved her face-first into the mat—after he’d clipped her in the mouth with his elbow.

So he had her pinned down in the most humiliating position—with him lying on top of her, both of her arms trapped.

Then his warm lips were against her ear. “Come on, She-Cat. Put me in my place. Show me how stupid that move was.”

“Get the fuck off of me.”

“I’m game anytime you wanna teach me another lesson,” he murmured again, and then he was gone.

Shiori rolled onto her back. Fuck. Was she losing her touch? She pushed up into a sitting position and wrapped her arms around her calves.

That’s when she noticed the blood.

And the crowd that’d gathered around them.

Sophia “Fee” Curacao snatched a towel and doused it in water before she crouched beside Shiori. “You okay?”

Shiori nodded and held the towel to her mouth, where the wound was starting to sting.

Fee stood and glared at Knox. “I cannot believe you drew blood on her the first fucking day you’re running the dojo, Shihan.”

“It’s all right, Fee,” Shiori said softly. “I should’ve been paying better attention.”

The sight of blood had changed Knox’s taunting mood. “You’re damn right you should’ve been.”

Not an apology—not that she deserved one. Annoyed by the guys staring at her and the fucked-up way Knox was studying her mouth, she pushed to her feet. “I’m fine. Let’s get this meeting over with.”

Knox said, “Not you. Take off. You bleed, you leave.”

Shiori rolled her eyes. “That is a shitty rhyme and a shitty rule, so I’m not going anywhere.”

“Suit yourself.” Knox clapped his hands for attention. “Gather ’round.”

Deacon, Ito, Zach, and Jon moved in on Knox’s left. Blue, Fee, Terrel, and Gil moved in on his right.

Knox ran through the list of weekly events and changes twice as fast as Ronin would have done, and they were finished with the meeting in ten minutes. New record.

“Anything to add, Shiori?”

“No, sir.”

“Then we’re done. See you all tomorrow.” Knox left immediately. Maybe he had a hot date.

She punched in the number to the car service and requested a pickup. She didn’t bother going to the locker room to change since she’d have to soak her gi to get the bloodstains out.

On the way out the front door she realized she had twisted her knee in that scuffle with Knox.

But all in all, a limp and a little blood—not bad for the first day.

*   *   *

THE next morning Shiori was in the conference room on her laptop, answering questions from her account managers at Okada, the family business, when Knox shuffled in.

He hadn’t shaved, and she hated that the dark bristle accentuating his angular jaw looked so good on him. He wore wrinkled gi pants and his gi top wasn’t closed, so she had a peek at his sculpted chest and muscular abs. She glanced up and caught Deacon staring at her from behind his laptop.

She couldn’t help but snap, “You’re late, Godan.”

“Long night. I had to drive to Golden after class—”

“Not interested in where you go for your booty calls. Deacon and I—”

“Don’t you drag me into this, darlin’,” Deacon drawled.

Those two stuck together on everything. These next two and a half months might be the most combative of her life—and she’d worked in her grandfather’s office, where every day was a battleground.