Page 60 of Hearts Held
Seraphina claps her hands together, her rings clinking together. “Marvelous! This will be so much fun. I’ll have a driver come and get you. What’s your address?”
I write my address down on a small pad of paper from the front desk. As I hand her the small parchment, Seraphina wraps her arms around me for an abrupt hug, causing my whole body to stiffen. Then she leaves the shop as I contemplate all the various things Everett could be hiding from me.
I finish my laundry and arrive to my townhome to find Bobby, Biscuit, Marcus and Tilly.
“Well, hello. Does everyone have a key to my home?” I ask with annoyance, placing my laundry off to the side of the hallway, making sure my knickers aren’t peeking out.
“You don’t remember?” Bobbyasks.
Piggy snorts as I stare back at Bobby in confusion. “Clearly I forgot.”
Marcus and Biscuit begin rearranging my furniture in the reading room.
“Hello! What on earth!?” I shout. Piggy stands at the ready, waiting for me to point and order him to chomp on someone’s rear end.
Bobby slowly approaches with Tilly and states, “We were supposed to start defensive lessons. I figured you’d like to learn alongside Tilly.”
Tilly slaps his arm. “Oh, hush, you just want to get your arms around me,” she flirts, her smile radiant as she peers up at Bobby. The love is palpable between them.
“Maybe,” he retorts, then goes to slink his arm around her waist and pull her in for a kiss on the cheek. Her cheeks redden as she giggles wholesomely. It’s such a sweet sight. You’d never think Bobby was one of these gangsters.
As soon as the sweet moment occurs, it ends as Tilly grabs Bobby’s forearm and hoists him, causing him to flip onto his back.
He lies there for a moment as Biscuit and Marcus begin howling laughing.
Bobby winces then exhales dramatically. “No more lessons for you. Jesus, darling, you’re a fast learner.”
I give a small chuckle as Tilly waggles her eyebrows at me.
Marcus claps his hands and states, “All right, let’s get started. Bri, come ’ere, please.”
My heart begins to race in anticipation and anxiety, hoping he doesn’t do anything that will take my mind back to more traumatic events in my past.
I want to stay focused.
Stay in this moment, I argue to myself.
Marcus instructs me to always keep my arms “up” and “at the ready,” to block any movements and to be swift with my own.
“It usually takes seven pounds of pressure to break a collarbone and seven pounds to rip off an ear. Got it?” he asks.
I nod in understanding.
He takes my hands gently and motions my thumbs near his eye sockets. “Always go for soft tissue, eyes, throat for the voice box, crush their esophagus if you have to. Now get back into boxing stance and hit me in the gut.” My eyes go wide at his request.
“He won’t break, ma’am,” Biscuit shouts from the couch, eating a snack as we train. “Or would ya feel bettah if you hit my gut, ma’am?” he offers.
The men laugh as I shake my head no.
“I’d rather not hit any of you,” I quietly state.
Marcus gently pats my shoulder. “We know ya love us, darling, but the best way to train is to actually hit us so you will actually hit your opponent for when the time comes.”
I furrow my brow. “You mean to have me overly prepared,” I remark.
Marcus solemnly shakes his head and drops his hands to either side of his bulked frame. “No, Bri. Not forifit happens, butwhen. People will come after you because we care about you.”
A chill runs down my spine. Though his words are endearing in a way, that doesn’t bring me much comfort.
