Chapter 9 Daphne
9 Daphne
‘Mr Petrov, in the nicest way possible, get out.’
‘No.’
I hear him walk across my room and pull open the heavy curtains, causing soft beams of light to seep in through my eye mask.
In the last forty-five minutes I’ve been greeted by the dreadful noise of an alarm I don’t possess, waking me up at 4:30 a.m. in the morning. Said alarm then proceeded to go off every five minutes until I unplugged it. Then, Amelia came in and tried to wake me up. And now I have a grumpy bodyguard invading my personal space.
‘Up.’ Milosh says as he pulls my eye mask from my face.
‘Please explain to me why I need to get up at –’ I look over to my personal clock that’s set for the reasonable time of 6:30 a.m. – ‘five-fifteen in the morning?’
‘You said you wanted to learn self-defence.’
‘I do, but not at five-fifteen in the morning.’
‘Now or never, Miss Green,’ he starts, heading towards the door. ‘Be outside in sixteen minutes,’ he finishes, before promptly walking out of my room.
‘All right, Troy Bolton, calm down,’ I mumble, dragging myself out of bed to throw on some clothes.
‘What are you wearing?’ Milosh asks, looking vaguely disgusted as I walk out of the back door onto the patio, the crisp summer morning air greeting me instantly.
‘All my other coats are at the dry cleaner,’ I reply, looking down at myself. I fully understand his reaction. It’s abnormally cold today so on top of my light-pink leggings with a matching short-sleeve top, I’m wearing a long brown fur coat. Meanwhile, Milosh is wearing black joggers, a black hoodie and a black puffer coat.
‘How exactly do you suppose you’re going to train wearing that?’ Milosh asks, and to be honest that is a very fair question. I really hadn’t thought that far ahead when I pulled this on. I just knew I was cold and this was all I could find quickly.
‘You know what, Mr Petrov? I really don’t know,’ I sigh, looking at him. ‘Do you have any suggestions?’
He stares at me blankly for a moment before proceeding to shed his puffer coat, throwing it onto the chair with deft precision, then pulling off his hoodie in one swift motion. It may have been swift, but time stood still when his T-shirt lifted ever so slightly and I caught sight of a sliver of abs.
‘Take off the coat, and put this on,’ he says, holding his hoodie out to me. His bewitching green irises track my every move as I slip off the coat and follow his instructions. The hoodie completely drowns me, engulfing me with that strong, clean, masculine scent of his. It’s huge, but offers a lot more mobility compared to my coat.
He nods his approval before turning around to grab something off the patio table. ‘I’m gonna teach you the basics of self-defence. We’ll study boxing, weapons training and Muay Thai to establish a base, then we’ll build from there. Until this… situation with your father is sorted out we’ll meet every morning and train together for a couple of hours.’
‘Okay,’ I breathe in a daze, slightly taken aback. It’s almost overwhelming how authoritative he is, and not just with his words but with his presence and character. He exudes control and assertion, standing tall and strong, with eye contact so acute it could burn my retinas.
He takes a new skipping rope from its packaging, handing it to me briskly before sitting down on the chair and shrugging his coat back on. ‘Let’s start with a warm-up.’
‘Mr Petrov, what you’re not going to do is sit on that chair and watch me skip for the next ten minutes. If I’m warming up, then so are you,’ I say, matter-of-factly, as I neatly fold up the rope and place it gently onto the table. ‘Now, seeing as there’s only one skipping rope I suggest we go on a light jog to warm ourselves up.’ I give him a polite, mildly satisfied smile as he gets up, but it dims gradually with every step he takes towards me.
Smirking, he licks his lips, stopping with his face only inches from mine. ‘Miss Green,’ he drawls, his voice low, ‘thank you for your concern, but in the hour it took you to come downstairs, I already warmed up.’
‘If you’re expecting a cookie, Mr Petrov, you’re not going to get one.’
‘Maybe not.’ He shrugs, slipping his hands into his pockets. ‘But what I will get is the sight of you jumping that rope while I. Sit. And. Watch.’
I smile lightly, ignoring how rough and unfortunately sexy that sentence just sounded coming out of his mouth. ‘No.’
‘Miss Green, usually when I say something is going to happen, it does,’ he says softly, those emerald eyes piercing my soul.
‘Well, that’s lovely, Mr Petrov. However, this is not going to be one of those times.’ I meet his eyes, my gaze dipping for a moment, catching a barely-there smile that’s gone so fast I half believe I imagined it. ‘I very frequently get my way, Mr Petrov, so please stop trying to force otherwise,’ I whisper, taking a step towards him. We’re so close now that our breathing is synced.
He offers a low chuckle and my eyes involuntarily close, revelling in it. ‘Fine, Miss Green. No rope. But I won’t be joining you on your run.’ He walks away, creating some much-needed distance and goes to sit back on that vexing chair. He pulls out his phone and starts typing something, paying me absolutely no mind. I guess that’s the conversation over then.
Well, I can just feel the time flying by.