Page 43 of The Players

She put on a tank top and black tights. The day after she’d moved in, she’d discovered her walk-in closet was stuffed to the brim with clothes in her size. Vince obviously hadn’t stopped with that one satin dress. She doubted Sy gave a crap about what she dressed in. If it were up to him, he’d rather see her naked.

After putting on her sneakers, she walked into the gym, where Sy was already waiting for her. In the middle was a big mat and judging by his grin, he couldn’t wait to get her on it.

“Don’t even think about it,” she warned.

“About what?”

His innocent tone didn’t fool her one bit. “You are here to teach me self-defense. Not how to roll in the gym and do other stuff.”

“Define other stuff.”

Her throat went dry as he flexed his bulging biceps. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that his deliciously ripped body turned her on. Even made her mouth water.

Not ashamed to admit it? Really?

Fine, I’ll never admit it out loud.

Right… like he can’t tell by your drool.

Her hand almost went up to the corner of her mouth. Dammit, she had to stop lusting over the man. It messed with her head.

“I’ll teach you to fight, but strength isn’t just about knowing how to beat someone up. It’s about controlling yourself.” He gave her a knowing look. “About controlling your fear.”

Was he serious? “Are we going to do this or is this going to turn into a session?” She’d expected that from Vince, but not from Sy. He was supposed to be the careless, fun one, who only lived for today.

“The little doll has claws,” he drawled.

He gestured her to come over to him. The second she did, he made a move, and she landed right on her butt.

“Mistake number one,” he explained as she got back on her feet. “You came when I asked. Never let your opponent determine how something’s gonna play out.”

They sized each other up. He gestured once more, but this time, she wasn’t so stupid to fall for it. They circled each other, each looking for an opening. Her heart beat in her throat at the constant tension holding her body captive, not knowing where the attack would come from.

“It’s not about who is the strongest or fittest. There are no rules in a one-on-one brawl. You just gotta be smart and tactical,” he explained. “You’re a tiny woman, so when you’re up against someone my size, you gotta hit where it hurts.” He gestured to his knee. “One well-placed kick and you can break a kneecap.”

As Sy talked, his face turned into that of Franco’s. His light hair was suddenly a dark black. His body stockier, a few feet shorter. Right up until the moment he had completely transformed into her ex-husband.

She felt sick as fear slowly took control over her body.

What if Sy was never real? What if Franco was still alive?

Little electric shocks shot through her veins, making her skin sizzle. Any second, a hit would follow, and no one would be there to help her. No one would be there to get her out of the closet he’d stuffed her in.

“Carmen.”

The world slowly turned darker and darker. The only glimpse of light filtered through the tiny crack in the closet door, taunting her with what was outside. A world filled with joy and laughter, if only she could reach out and touch it. If only she wasn’t caught in this nightmare. If only she could move her cold, stiff fingers.

“Carmen, look at me.”

Why did he do this to her? Why her? What did he get out of it? What had she done wrong?

“Carmen!”

When the clouds before her eyes faded, she sat cradled on Sy’s lap. Her hand flew to his cheek.

“You’re real…”

He looked lost for words, but then nodded. “I’m damn real. Gonna tell me what just happened there?”

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