Page 46 of Personal Disaster

“And Ben’s still single?”

Marcus nods. “Yeah. And a massive flirt, be warned.”

“Duly noted.”

He takes my hand across the table, and we both stop talking. His face goes serious, the lines that carve out his features deepening as he gives me a solemn look. “You’re going to impress the hell out of them. They’re going to wonder how I ever scoredyou.”

“What will you tell them?” I try to smile, but fail. “That I hunted you down for a story?”

“They already know that.” He takes a deep breath. “This new job. You’re going to have bigger profile. More people paying attention to you. Stay safe, okay?”

I nod. I’m not stupid.

We finish eating, then drive back to his place, a new heaviness hanging over both of our moods.

He brings up safety again once we’re inside. “I was thinking—and tell me if this is overstepping—that maybe I could show you some self-defense stuff. I know you took workshops, but—”

“Yes.” My pulse races.

“Yeah?”

“I’d love that.” I jab at him playfully. “Plus, sparring with you could behot.”

He laughs. “Not the point I was going for, but…” He grapples with me until we end up kissing. “Okay, yes. Hot. But focus, too. I want you to be able to kick my ass for real. Which means you need to be ruthless and wicked.”

I nod, my ponytail bobbing. Sure. Wicked. I can pretend to bethat…

“Your sweet as apple pie appearance is actually an advantage,” he says, reading my mind. “People will underestimate you. Letthem.”

I swallow hard. “Gotit.”

“Okay, so this is what we’re going todo…”

He takes me downstairs to his gym—more rooms I hadn’t yet explored in his secretly massive house—and walks me through some basic holds I’m already familiar with from the workshops I’ve done. Then he tries to get me to put them together into some real moves, which is tricker.

After he takes me down to the mat two times in a row, he takes my hands in his. “Let’s try that again, and this time, get mad at me. For real. I’m every jerk who has made you feel threatened in any way, shape, or form. Remember, angry assholes expect you to go one way. Go the other. Move in, twist toward them, drop low. Show me that you’re not afraid of me.” He steps right into me, looming big, and he grabs my shoulders in his hands. I can feel how he’s curved his fingers around my body, how he’s digging into my shoulder blades so I can’trun.

And when I tug back instinctively, he sneers at me and tightens his grip to the point of hurting.

I lunge forward, slamming my body against his, then I drop to the ground and roll away, kicking at hislegs.

He doesn’t topple over as I wanted him to, but he hops, and that’s enough. I’m up and sprinting to the wall, which I touch just as he grabs he again.

This time when he puts his hands on me, he’s gentle. I twist in his arms and climb up him. He presses me against the wall and kisses me, a desperate plea. Don’t gethurt.

“I’ll be safe,” I promise him. “And we can try that again tomorrow. Every day until I leave.”

“Take me down over and over again until you feel confident in it, okay?”

I squeeze him tight. “Promise.”

He carries me into his room and we crawl under the blankets naked. He’s gentle there, too, until he’s not, and it’s perfect bothways.

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