I was still in a daze when Andrea rushed into the bathroom and shut the door. We almost kissed. She had initiated it, and the air between us had been so light, playful even. But then, something shifted-something dark and heavy flashed across her face. I recognized that look immediately: a mixture of self-doubt, fear, and helplessness. Not the kind of fear of something bad happening, but the fear of letting someone in.

I knew that expression all too well. It was the same one I used to see in my own reflection before I mastered the art of the unbothered façade. But when I was alone, staring into my own eyes, I couldn't hide from the truth. All the emotions I had buried would rise to the surface. Andrea had her own mask, a tough-girl act that she'd perfected, but for some reason, it had slipped-not just now, but yesterday, when she got that mysterious note.

Beneath that hard exterior, Andrea was a girl who had been hurt-someone who trusted too easily once and had been forced to grow up far too soon because of someone else's failures. I could see that now.

Soon the bathroom door opened again, she froze at the door when she finally came back out of the bathroom, seeing me still there. Her mask was back in place, her emotions locked away as if they had never been exposed.

"I'm sorry about that," she murmured, her voice soft, while she busied herself with her gym bag, not once meeting my eyes.

I couldn't stand seeing her like that-so closed off. I walked up behind her, gently turned her around to face me, and pressed her back against the wall. Her breath hitched, and I knew then that she wasn't as indifferent as she pretended to be.

My hands found her waist, my fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns on her skin. "I'm not sorry," I growled lowly, my voice thick with frustration and desire. "I'm so tempted to throw you back on that bed and kiss you until you can't think about anything else. You've only added fuel to a fire that was already burning for you."

She opened her mouth, likely to protest, but I silenced her with a finger to her lips-gently, but firm enough to stop her from arguing.

"But I'll wait for you to be ready," I said, my tone softening. "Don't overthink this, Andrea." I took her hand and placed it over my heart. "I swear, I'll never hurt you. Not like before. I made a mistake thinking you were a spy, and I hurt you because of it. That will never happen again. You have my word. Okay?"

Her expression was a mixture of shock and something else, something deeper. She hesitated, but after a moment, she nodded.

"Use your words, kitten," I teased, watching her carefully.

Her eyebrows shot up, a hint of her playful nature returning. "I thought I was a lioness. Now I'm a kitten?"

I smirked. "To the world, you're a lioness. But to me, you're also my little kitten." I leaned in, stopping just short of her lips, holding the moment for just a beat longer than necessary before pulling away, as if nothing had happened.

Her face flushed, and she let out a small, frustrated sound. I couldn't help but chuckle. "Something bothering you, lionessa?" I asked, fully aware that she had expected me to kiss her. But I was giving her a taste of her own medicine, and by doing so, I was punishing myself, too. "Get ready. I'm joining you for your training session today."

I quickly changed into my gym shorts and joined her. As we headed toward the basement, I placed a guiding hand on the small of her back, a small but intimate gesture. To my surprise, we weren't the only ones ready for a workout. Christina and Michael were already there, waiting.

"Looks like we're having a family training session today," Michael commented with a smile.

Christina looked at Andrea helplessly. "He wants to teach me how to fight," she complained to her older sister. "I told him how hopeless I am, but he insists."

Christina was the complete opposite of Andrea-gentle, soft-hearted. Where Andrea was sharp edges, Christina was all softness and light.

Andrea glanced at her sister, then Michael, with a blank look before rolling her eyes. "Calling her hopeless is an insult to the word 'hopeless.' Trust me," Andrea deadpanned, earning herself a playful whack on the head from Christina.

"I'm not that bad!" Christina protested, standing beside Michael with her arms crossed.

Andrea smirked. "Oh, please. You feel bad for hurting the people who try to hurt you. If you even manage to hurt someone, you'll stand there apologizing instead of running away."

Christina flushed a deep red, confirming that Andrea's assessment was spot-on. Michael looked down at his wife, amused by the whole exchange.

"Is there a particular incident that made you come to that conclusion?" Michael asked, raising an eyebrow at Andrea, clearly curious now.

"Andrea, no!" Christina gasped, already knowing where her sister was headed.

Andrea's grin widened. "The first time someone tried to kidnap her, she was 16. She kicked the guy between the legs so hard that he fell to the ground crying, but instead of running away, she stood there apologizing, asking if he was okay." Andrea laughed. "If it hadn't been for Enzo showing up in time, she would've been kidnapped."

Christina, mortified, stepped behind Michael as if to hide her bright red face.

I turned to Andrea, surprised. "Where were you when this happened?"

Christina's voice was small as she replied from behind her husband. "It was outside our school. Andrea was locked in the bathroom. She saw everything from the window. She climbed down two stories to grab Enzo and saved me."

Michael and I exchanged shocked looks. "You climbed down two floors? How?" we both asked Andrea, incredulous.

Andrea shrugged as if it were nothing. "It wasn't that hard. The door wouldn't budge, and I had to get to her. It was the only way. As for how I did it, well that's a secret."

I looked at Andrea with newfound admiration. There was so much more to this girl than I had realized.