9. Dani
9
DANI
DAMN IT, MANDY
T he air in The Governor's rooftop training center is thick with the scent of sweat and rubber mats—an odor that's practically the perfume of my morning grind. It’s a little after ten o’clock when I step through the arched doorway behind the reception area, the familiar sound of grunts and thuds fills my ears.
“Sounds like you this morning,” Xeno whispers in my ear. A shiver snakes down my spine at the reminder of how he drank from my pussy like an explorer plunging into the Fountain of Youth. He’s at my back, a mountain who makes me feel protected and delicate. Not that anyone who knows me would agree…but, maybe Xeno would.
“I’m working, remember?” For five years, I’ve come to this very place alone. His being here—with me, is a statement. The question is, am I ready for the world, that being The Governor and its residents, to know that I’m with Xeno?
“I do. I dressed you.”
A process he took great pleasure in prolonging as he lifted my foot, one at a time, easing my panties over my ass, to cup my pussy. We argued about me wearing my lace front wig and an arm sling. He likes my natural hair over the headdress of my uniform.
When I told him it was my decision, he threatened to bend me over his knee. I snatched both the wig and the velcro contraption and put them on. “Don’t remind me,” I murmur.
Training is in full session, and I'm here for one purpose: to spar with Cookie, my trainer and a constant since my arrival at The Governor. Silvio had hand-selected her to minimize my weaknesses and enhance for physical strengths following my escape. Xeno is beside me now. I glance up to spy him mean-mugging any knuckle-dragger who looks up from their workout to acknowledge my presence. A couple of the guys from the security team wave, Rhys isn’t one of them. Beside me, I hear Xeno grunt.
“No dick swinging,” I whisper. He grips my neck and kisses me, pushing his tongue deep until I whimper in surrender. Stretching, I angle my head in his direction, wanting to taste more of him—the smoothie we shared over breakfast, the sweet burst of the fresh pineapple he quartered and served me. Too soon, he pulls away, a spark of mischief dancing in those dark eyes.
“Say less,” he grins before patting my ass with his hand before heading to the only available bench press machine in the left corner. “Stay close.”
And if I could stray when he’s laying down kisses that buckle my knees and adle any good sense I possess. I watch Xeno walk away, hypnotized by his predatory movements. Rhys cuts behind him, his eyes searing into mine. He’s drenched in sweat, muscles bulging. I lift one brow in question. What was there to say? We fucked. It never went beyond meeting our physical needs.
No goodbyes necessary.
“Dani, you good?” Xeno calls. He’s watching this entire interaction. In fact, most eyes are on me. I’m not used to this kind of attention, intimate and very male. The nurse, the blonde damsel, waves as she takes it all in from the elliptical she’s pedaling with downtown D.C. in the backdrop.
“Yeah,” I stammer to Xeno, unsure how men and women in a relationship-y thing respond to an audience. This could be an opportunity for him to intervene, to go macho with the man-saves-his-woman bit. I’m glad he doesn’t. My battles are mine. Knowing he won’t interfere, that he’ll ask my permission, makes me want him more. I see him then—his intelligence, his concern, his wit. Xeno knows exactly what he’s doing to wear me down.
He chuckles. “Clock’s ticking…unless you’re ready for bed.”
Fuck, no, he didn’t. Thank goodness for brown skin invisibility cause I’m blushing like a virgin buying condoms for the first time. My imagination conjures dark images, remembering how well he and his long tongue put me to sleep tonight. His shadow between my legs, my body writhing under his assault on my sensitive pussy.
“Dani,” I hear my name and turn in a semi-circle, looking for the source. I spot Cookie all the way in the back corner, near the mats. She's taller than most, with a mop of curly hair that never seems to tame, no matter how many times she ties it back.
She sticks one hand straight up in the air. “Over here, girl. Come on.”
Silvio is talking in hushed tones when I approach. He stops abruptly when I’m within hearing range. Standing in front of them, I wait to be included in the conversation.
Cookie pulls me in for a one-armed hug. I jump at the contact, but I let her finish—whatever this is.
“Glad you’re okay, sis,” she whispers.
Okay, that’s new for me and my trainer. Banter, gossip, and ideas flowed freely between us, but never with this best-friend energy. “Ah…thanks,” I say, shaking my head to clear away the saccharine feel of all this concern broadcasting in my direction. I reattack.
“So,” I pause, “What’s up, Silvi?”
He’s tall, like Xeno, so I have to tilt my chin up to take in his full expression. Sweat has matted his close-cropped hair to his neck, his skin is red from exertion, and he’s panting. It’s obvious he’s put in a dozen miles on the treadmill with his monogrammed towel hanging over the grab bar.
“Nothing for you to concern yourself with,” he smiles, but it lacks his usual warmth. Cookie looks anywhere but at me.
Silvio had done well for himself, earning Corso’s trust. His club, with his wife on jazzy vocals, kept music lovers flowing through the doors, doing the work of establishing The Governor’s legitimate business ventures. Few civilians questioned why the full occupancy always applied regardless of the millions offered for a weekend stay.
I place one hand on my hip, meeting his eyes. “Humor me,” I say, showing my irritation. Silvio and I have a friendship spanning twenty years. What’s changed?
“Discussing the finer points of quantum mechanics,” Silvio quips, lifting the water bottle in his hand and downing the contents.
"Yeah, and I'm retiring to the country manor,” I retort. Cookie laughs, her whole body shaking, and it's infectious enough to pull a smirk from me. “Serious talk,” I say, dropping the levity, “what don’t I know?”
The area between his brows bunches, creating a deep furrow. “You should rest, Dani.”
Our friendship has revolved around mutual respect. It niggles me that he thinks my being here is somehow neglecting what I need. The thing about surviving an abusive relationship is the feelings of helplessness and worthlessness linger worse than rotten meat. Action steps. Once I read in an online article that action steps, whether or small, can propel a person forward. Waking up and dressing for my workout, like I did every morning, is me moving forward. Pushing one more shitty part of my life into the past. Instead of sharing all the mental scrabble, I say. “I did. Xeno can attest.”
Cookie’s eyes alight with glee. “We definitely need to talk about Mr. Xeno Voss.”
Before she can tease me further and I change the subject, that damn Messy Mandy sashays her four feet, eleven-inch, pint-sized ass over being nosy.
“Dani,” she grins up at me, her signature asymmetrical burgundy bob covering her left eye, “I heard you got a new roommate.”
Amanda ‘Messy Mandy’ Murphy, a DMV icon and a national gossip columnist, runs her mouth about everything from P. Diddy baby oil drippings to presidents pissing on prostitutes. She’s also a brand ambassador for Silvio and Paisley’s record label, Darkest Phire. But Roman’s wife, Nesa, Mandy’s college roommate who’s the one that gifted this mouth-all-mighty with gym access.
"Mind your business," I snap, my tone and assertiveness giving away more than I'd like.
“Yo’ business is my bizness. And that of my listening audience,” she says in a rush.
I roll my eyes, “Who told you?”
“Who didn’t?” she quips.
“He’s my client. End of story,” I defend, not ready to give anyone insider access to what happens in my private life.
Mandy steps back, then looks me up and down. “A roommate and a client, huh? Then why do you look like he sucked first and last month’s rent out your clit.”
“Damn,” Silvio hisses. “I can’t hear this. I’m out.”
He bolts for the stairs, not even waiting on the elevator. Damn it, he never gave me a real answer about their conversation.
“Shut up, Mandy. You don’t know shit.”
She sucks air between her teeth, and the sound makes a popping noise. Oh, she thinks she’s safe. Testing my nerves like I won’t snatch her soul in front of all these people.
“I know yo’ ass got a ho up.”
“Ah,” Cookie chimes in. “Pretty sure you mean a glow-up?”
“Don’t be autocorrecting me, Miss Grammarly,” she chirps, in that sing-song voice she uses in her TikTok videos. “Bitch, I said what I said.”
“Who you calling bitch?” Cookie steps up. “I’ll box your feather-weight ass like Leila Ali.”
“And when I wake up,” Mandy is animated, and it’s drawing attention. Thank God, Xeno can’t see us. “I’ll say the same damn thing. I ain’t never scared.”
“Mandy, yo’ messy ass. Fuck you.”
“Damn,” she laughs. “You hostile for a bitch who’s getting dick on the regular.”
“I ain’t getting no dick,” I hiss in my inside voice.
“Oh,” she nods, “he holding out. Why you didn’t tell me?” she whispers. “Diesel and I got these gummies—”
“Mandy, I don’t need to drug a man to get dick. Keep all that shit you and that nasty behind rancher do to each other out of my face.”
“Huh,” Mandy rolls her eyes. “Diesel got me living my best hoe life.”
Stunned at Mandy calling herself a hoe, I say. “And you bragging about some man tossing yo’ tiny ass salad? ”Her mouth drops open, momentarily speechless. She recovers, and now she’s mad. She started it.
“Bitch, no, you didn’t. H.O.E life stands for happiness-over-everything, Miss Black Panther with your fucking super suit.” Mandy claps back. “I’m trying to help you, but since my advice on living your best life ain’t appreciated, Mandy raises both forearms over her chest, forming an X, ”Wakanda forever, bitches, bye.”
I signal to Cookie that I’m done with this conversation. “Bye, Mandy.” But she makes H.O.E. sound appealing. Can I have a chance at happiness with Xeno? The possibility intrigues me.
She grins and blows me an air kiss. “Bye, Felicia. And hold on to Xeno’s fine ass, you’re nicer when he’s going downtown.”
“Oh, why you always got to start some shit,” I growl, at her oral sex reference. “If I didn’t want a workout, I need one now.”
Cookie bumps her shoulder against mine. "I don’t judge, Dani. If you’re happy, I’m happier. But take care, alright? He’s not just some random hookup you can ghost when you’re done with him.”
“No shit. But thanks, Cookie." I snort, not sure I’ll vanish where Xeno is concerned. When I think of running, it’s to Xeno, not away. We laugh, and it's good, real good. There's comfort in knowing someone's got your back, in and out of the ring.
Cookie then points to my bandage. “Until that’s healed. You work on your Tiger.” Tiger Kung Fu is a one-armed martial arts style of combat. “Afterwards, I want to see your wing chun strike.”
“Done.” Both were rapid-fire, close-quarters, self-defense techniques made famous by the Beatrice Kiddo character in the Kill Bill movie franchise.
Cookie attacks, snagging my right arm and wrenching at an odd angle. I can’t help the grunt of pain. With both arms useless, I must leverage my weight to throw off center. It’s a move my mother taught me years ago. She stumbles, and I resist the urge to headbutt her. This is training, not the real thing.
Ninety minutes later, I catch sight of Xeno in my peripheral vision. He leans against the wall to my right, watching me like he owns the place. Something akin to pride fills his gaze. He’s not intimidated by my skills, he’s impressed. My insides melt under his attention. I lift my free arm in surrender, letting Cookie know I’m spent. Every muscle in my dominant arm aches. My back is screaming from blocking her repeated strikes. Though she never touched my injured side, in no way, shape, or form did she go easy on me. I should thank her for reminding me who I am, of the job. But, right now, all I want is food and water. So, why do my eyes stray to Xeno’s. When he sees me looking, he pushes off the wall. Silvio enters through the exit door in the back of the room. He hangs back, his eyes shadowed with a mix of concern and something darker, more dangerous.
Xeno doesn’t notice. He prowls more than walks to where Cookie and I are. He stops in front of me, studying, discerning if I’m okay without asking me anything. It’s like he has to decide for himself if I’m okay.
Finally, he says, “You look good,” before he lowers his head and claims my lips.
I should be used to the taste of him, the intensity of his effect to overwhelm my senses, but I am not. Each time, a rush of adrenaline floods my veins, lighting a fire deep inside that heats my core, and brings me to a boil.
“Ah, Dani.” Cookie’s voice pulls me from the sensual haze that envelopes me whenever Xeno is near.
“Xeno, meet Cookie. My trainer,” I say, my voice steady despite the inner turmoil of introducing him in connection to me.
Better at all this than me, Cookie extends her hand. “Hi,” she bats her lashes, gushing as Xeno accepts her greeting in kind. I’m contemplating dragging her to the mat by her hair “I’m Dani’s friend.”
“Dani’s friend,” he pauses, then drops a bomb. “I’m Dani’s.”
My mouth drops open. “What-in-the-actually-fuck, Xeno?”
He shrugs. “It’s a fact.”
I stammer a string of unintelligible gibberish, my eyes bugging out of my head. Of course, I knew his ass was crazy, but damn? When I grab his wrist, he eyeballs me, all matter-of-fact, like there’s no question who he is to me. Cookie is non-plussed. The next words out of her mouth surprises the hell out of both of us.
“Good to know. And so that we understand each other. I will bust you in the nuts with a barbell if you hurt my girl in any way.”
Xeno throws his head back in laughter. “Noted. I’ll take care, Dani.”
There is more than a promise wrapped in his declaration, there’s satisfaction. As if he’s proud to claim me. Will it always be this way? He turns, and those piercing eyes meet mine, and the answer revealed in their depths is yes. There’s a flash of something in his gaze, something I immediately read, which starts my nerves vibrating. Barely controlled lust. Sweat glistens between the valley of my breasts and the way Xeno’s lids drop to half-mast, I know he wants to fuck me, here and now.
“Dani,” he replies, his voice smooth, calm. “You hungry?”
“And just like that, my mouth waters, and my pussy gushes with fresh wetness. I’m sweating for a totally different reason. “I could eat.” I glance over at Cookie. “Catch you tomorrow.”
“Sure,” she grins. When Xeno drops a hand to the small of my back, I practically orgasm on contact. He doesn’t wait for me to follow him, he leads me away. A part of me thinks I should object, but the woman in me who dreamed of capturing a man’s affection loves that he dominates.
Cookie shakes her head. “Text me if you need to cancel,” she calls to our retreating backs.
He opens his mouth, then stops. He wants to answer her, but he’s allowing me to claim him. Am I ready? Am I afraid?
I’m both, but I respond to Cookie. “We’ll let you.”
Xeno nods in agreement, sinking his teeth into his lower lip. He’s ready to explode. As am I. Cookie yells to a pair of newbies who look like they're about to turn their sparring session into a real fight.
Walking before Xeno to enter the private elevator, I reflect on my decision. I’ve agreed to be his. As the car whisks us toward home, neither of us speaks, but I’m acutely aware of him—of the space he occupies, the subtle scent of his sweat, the way fingers dig into my waist, possessive. Damn, this is the longest ride, and I realize it is lunchtime. And by the look in Xeno’s eyes reflected at me from the mirrored doors, I can’t wait for him to feed me.