Chapter 27: Chapter 27

Time flew by faster than expected. The first game had concluded a little over two months ago, and now the second game was tomorrow. Tensions were high. Sam had continued to drill everything she could into me. Running and weight training were now part of my daily routine. I was slimmer and toner than ever—the weights I had been lifting giving way to muscles that increased my strength and endurance.

I wasn’t the same girl who’d been kidnapped all those months ago. I felt stronger, both mentally and physically.

I had no clue what the next game entailed, but I suspected running would play a major role. Otherwise, why else was I running like my life depended on it every morning?

I stood in Stefano’s personal gym in shorts and a tank top, waiting for him to arrive. He promised to oversee my combat training today, asking Sam and Rob to stay home.

I was a bit nervous. Stefano had never been interested in my training before now. Did he know something about the next game? Did this game require fighting? Was that why Sam constantly warned me to heed caution?

I doubted Stefano would answer even if I asked.

He walked into the room in gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt. Since I’d been here, it was very rare for me to see him dressed in anything but a suit unless we were sleeping.

At first, I had been confused. When we were together before, I’d never even seen him in a suit—his go-to had been jeans and T-shirts.

But now that I knew his true identity, he no longer hid that part of himself from me—the part that had a closet full of custom-made suits of the highest-quality fabrics.

So seeing him dressed down like this was a surprise. Though I wasn’t going to complain, especially after seeing how his biceps pushed the limits of the cotton shirt.

“So, what are we doing?” I asked him, placing my hands on my hips and actively trying to not stare at his defined pecs and abs.

“Like I said: combat training. I want to see for myself how much you’ve improved.”

“You don’t know how I started out,” I countered.

He looked at me pointedly and said, “I can see the improvement in your stamina better than anyone else, but let’s hear it. How were you when you first started running?”

His words stunned me into silence.

He chuckled. “Not great?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “I used to run at the same pace a turtle walks, but now I’m pretty good at it.”

He nodded and beckoned me onto the gym mat. “That’s good. C’mere.”

I walked over and tried to test the waters as I eyed him. “Is there something I need to know?”

“I’m addicted to you.” His arm crept around my waist and tugged me into a heated kiss. My heart shook, and my breath was lost in his passion. When he pulled away, I was stupefied, blinking at him stupidly, as if urging him to do it again.

He smirked and tapped my forehead playfully. “All you need to know is what I’m teaching you.”

I snapped out of my daze. So, he was training me specifically for the game tomorrow?

“Try to attack me.” He bent slightly and beckoned me.

I looked at him in surprise. “I’m fighting you? Not using the punching bag or something?”

He shook his head. “You’ve used that enough. Time to gain some experience against a professional. C’mon.”

My heart rate quickened as my thoughts explored the possibilities. ~Would we be fighting against each other tomorrow?~

I took a deep breath and shook my head. I couldn’t worry about tomorrow, not yet. Right now, I needed to focus on Stefano and whatever he wanted to teach me.

I locked in, cautiously bending my knees and bracing my arms in front of me. I maintained the form that Sam had demonstrated to me many times and looked toward Stefano for further instructions.

He nodded, signaling that I should start. I didn’t hesitate and threw a punch that he quickly deflected. My arms ached as I blocked his punch and was forced back a step. Undeterred, my eyes keenly watched his movements as I went in for a roundhouse kick.

We went back and forth for a while before Stefano put a pause on the session.

I braced my arms on my knees and sucked in sharp, painful breaths. I hadn’t been able to beat him once, and he barely looked tired. It made me admire him even more and stirred my competitive spirit.

“You’re not bad, even for a beginner,” he praised. “Now, let’s end this on the most important part.”

I looked up at him and wiped the sweat from my brow as he created some distance between us.

“Pretend I’m holding a gun and try to attack me from this distance,” he said.

I froze and looked at him like he was crazy. ~A gun? Was he serious?~

“Attack you while you have a gun? That’s suicide! Will there be guns in the next game?” The thought struck an ounce of fear in me, and I looked at him for answers.

His casual expression didn’t change. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing you’ll die from. Trust me.”

My nerves calmed a bit at his words, but I was still a bit antsy. Just because he said I wouldn’t die, it didn’t mean that others wouldn’t either.

I grew serious and straightened up. “What do I do?”

“Picture a gun in my hand pointing at you,” he said, his arms outstretched in front of him with his hands folded together in the shape of a gun, his fingers pointing directly at me. “What would you do?”

“…Pray the bullet misses me?” I drew a blank. There was no way I could outrun a gun.

“C’mon, Catalina. Think,” he urged me.

I stared at him and imagined a gun in his hands, pointing directly at me. I didn’t have a weapon. My only strength would be to run away, to dodge the bullet.

“I’d duck out of the way, I guess.”

He nodded, seemingly pleased with my answer. “What next? The gun is still in my hand. I can shoot again.”

I drew a blank once again and grew frustrated. “I die. What else can I do? This is man versus gun here. I’m not superwoman.”

He chuckled and dropped his arms, running a hand through his hair.

“Sam or Rob didn’t teach you this?” he asked.

I shook my head. “They’ve focused on building my stamina with running and weight training. I’ve had hand-to-hand combat training sessions, but nothing with weapons.”

With a nod, he approached me and shifted my body so I was the one pretending to hold the gun.

“Listen closely,” he said, backing up so I was aiming my fingers at him. “If a gun is pointing at you and you’re within distance, duck down and throw yourself at their midsection.” He dropped into a squat and came at me slowly, pressing his shoulder into my abdomen.

“If the gun doesn’t drop, you raise your hand and knock them in the chin,”—his hand went between my arms, and he touched the bottom of my chin with the heel of his hand—“forcing their head up and immobilizing them for a split second. That second is all you need to take the gun away.”

He reached forward and clasped his hands over mine, as if he was pulling the gun out of my grip.

I frowned, doubt clouding my mind. “That works?”

“Against amateurs, yes. Time is crucial. You can’t freeze up. The second that gun is raised, you move. That keeps you alive, do you understand?”

I nodded.

“Good. Now, let’s practice on me.”

He stood back and placed his arms out as if he were holding a gun, and I followed his directions as best as I could. He didn’t even flinch when I threw myself at him.

“Bend lower. We want to make sure the bullet misses your head.”

I nodded, then straightened up and tried again.

“Brace yourself. Don’t push with your hands. Use your shoulder. Put all of your weight into throwing your body into me. You have to knock the enemy off balance.”

I tried again.

“Great, now push your hand upward. Just like that.”

Minutes went by as I repeated the motions again and again, and somewhere along the way, I found myself lying on top of him, my hand pressed against his chin, forcing his head upward.

I was excited. I’d finally successfully disarmed him, but having him under me also brought my attention to our precarious position, and our very thin clothing.

The air was heavy with the heat of our exertion, our heaving breaths the only noise in the room.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, and my eyes traced the movement greedily. Electricity coursed through my veins, and I pushed down the urge to touch him.

He silently lay there, watching me, waiting for my next move.

I cleared my throat and pushed up to sit next to him. He crossed his arms behind his head, not making a move to get up.

I stared off into space, not trusting myself to look at him.

After a few seconds of silence, he asked, “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing in particular.”

He waited, knowing I couldn’t stand the silence and would eventually let him know what I was thinking.

“You know what the game tomorrow will be, don’t you?”

“…I do,” he said.

“Can you tell me?” Stupid question. I knew he couldn’t. But I needed to ask anyway.

“I can tell you the theme.”

I glanced over at him in surprise. “What is it?”

“Strength.”

“Strength,” I murmured in thought, turning so I could see his face clearly. “Is it deadly?”

“It can be, but that depends on the women, not those who planned it. I’m confident that you’ll survive, though.” His eyes traced my face, like he saw something in me that I couldn’t quite see myself.

He said it with such confidence that I eyed him warily. What exactly did this game entail? Guns? Running? Fighting? My training told me it wasn’t going to be easy.

I fiddled with the hem of my shirt and pursed my lips in thought.

Stefano placed a hand on my thigh, snapping me out of my worry. I looked down at him and felt my stomach flip at the hooded look that greeted me.

“Climb up.” He gestured to his lap.

I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

His eyes twinkled. “I didn’t get to check your stamina. I want you to run laps on my rigid cock.”