9. Anastasia #2
I can only nod. Keep it professional, Ana.
Rhett closes the distance, angling my hips and gently kicking my feet until I’ve shifted into a position that satisfies him.
Innocent on his part. Absolutely scandalous in my mind.
It inspires the want to know if he’d take this sort of control in the bedroom. Position me where he wanted me.
“Try again,” he says close to my ear.
I take a deep breath to slam shameless Ana back in her cage. Then I throw my fist out with the release, and it feels good. Like sealing shut the door to that side of me that was clawing wild with Rhett nearby. Now all I need is a key to keep her locked away for the next five months.
Focus.
Rhett’s hand comes under my elbow before I can retract it. He’s so fast, so careful and attentive in the way he corrects me, piece by piece.
“Make sure your first two knuckles are aligned with the bone of your forearm,” he instructs, showing the path of alignment with the tips of his fingers. I stifle a shiver.
His hand slips over my abdomen as he says, “Again.”
I don’t expect his precision and elegance in teaching. I thought he’d stand by and watch me flail around while ordering corrections from the sidelines, silently thinking I’m a lost cause.
I throw my punch again and his hand gently lowers my elbow.
“Contract your abdomen when you exhale as you deliver your blow. It’ll have more impact.”
He steps away and I’m flushed, though not with any exertion. Coming back around, he braces himself this time.
“I’m going to respond, but I’ll stop the moment you say.”
“Okay,” I say, already a little breathless.
His silvery hair hovers over eyes that lock on mine, so focused and waiting for me to move.
With nothing to lose, I attack. Knowing he’ll catch my fist, I throw out my other hand, which he blocks effortlessly.
Spinning me, he presses my back to his front, but I lean in a side-lunge, bringing my elbow up.
He anticipates that too, grabbing my forearm and pinning it across my body.
He’s too tall, too strong, and this idea was completely futile.
Still, I don’t give up just yet, managing to duck and twist out of that hold and rip my arm free.
Rhett lunges for me this time, and in my surprise I’m taken off my feet, nearly thrown over his shoulder until he stops.
He could have thrown me like a sack of flour, and the worst part is I think I would have enjoyed it. Traitorous mind.
When he sets me down I catch my breath, pacing away with a hand on my hip.
“This was a stupid idea,” I mutter.
“It’s smart to want to defend yourself,” he argues.
“What does it matter when I’ll always be weaker, smaller?” I exasperate.
Turning back to him, I watch his expression fall quietly angry. I think I’ve messed up, said something to offend him, as he comes closer.
He asks, so low and careful, “Has someone hurt you before? Or placed you in a position that you thought they would?”
My lips part to spill the truth, but I shake my head before it comes out.
“No. It’s nothing. It was nothing.”
I don’t expect him to take my chin when I try to look away. The intensity of his blue eyes pierces through me as if he’ll be able to find the memory himself.
“If you don’t want to tell me then fine, but don’t say it was nothing when that’s not true.”
I swallow hard. “It was over the summer, not long after my ... breakup, if that’s what it was, with Adam,” I confess. Needing a distraction, I equip myself with the boxing gloves and take to the punching bag. It might not train me against someone who can attack back, but it’s something.
“At a party, one of his friends approached me and said he’d heard from Adam how good of a lay I was.
I told him I wasn’t interested and thought that was the end of it.
I didn’t see him for an hour after that.
I didn’t drink a lot—I swear I don’t always test my limits like how you saw me.
I went to the bathroom, and before I could close the door, there he was.
” I push harder, punching and kicking, practicing all I can from being self-taught.
“He forced his way in and locked the door behind him. I’d never felt fear like that before.
The music was loud and I didn’t think anyone would hear me if I shouted for help, so I tried to stay calm and reason with him.
He thought my refusal was funny, then my insistence to leave turned him .
.. aggressive.” The backs of my eyes prick with tears.
I haven’t told anyone this. Not even Riley.
It seems insignificant. “He touched me where I didn’t want to be touched.
I didn’t know the first thing about how to fight him off even though he wasn’t as tall or as built as you, and maybe I could have if I’d known the right maneuvers.
So after that night I spent a lot of the summer here.
I won’t feel that helpless again, even if I only know the basics. ”
I stop attacking the punching bag, catching my breath as I unstrap the gloves and toss them to the ground before slumping down.
“What is his name?” Rhett asks with a note to his voice that chills me.
“Isaac Neil. He’s in my classes, but he hasn’t bothered me since.”
“How did you get out of there?”
“Adam, actually.” I huff a humorless laugh at the irony.
“Isaac had only been in that bathroom with me for minutes that felt like far longer. I got that single punch to fend him off, but by my luck, that night I ended up breaking my fourth metacarpal. Adam saw him barge his way in and broke the lock before he could retaliate. Adam took me to the hospital, then home, and we never spoke again—until now.”
“You never told anyone?” Rhett asks, his tone turning soft as he crouches beside me.
I shake my head. “My father had enough going on with the campaign stuff—something like that would only stress him out, and maybe he’d worry about some rumor leaking, so I told him it was a stupid drunken fall.
Adam agreed not to do or say anything when I asked him not to, and I didn’t tell anyone.
I just don’t want to feel like that again, that’s all. ”
I dare a look, but Rhett gives very little away as he watches me.
“Your punch is strong—it just needs fine-tuning so you don’t break bone again. It will always hurt to throw one. You just need to make sure it’s worse for them than you. We can fit in an hour here as many days as you like. I’m all yours.”
That brightens my mood, lifting all the heavy tension, and I smile. It seems to relax him when I do, and I push back up, feeling so much lighter now that’s out to someone.
“I’ll grab us some drinks,” I say, heading out so we can get an hour of practice in today.
“Ana,” he calls.
I swivel back to him.
“It’s incredibly brave that you attempted to punch him at all. You have great intuition and an admirable will.”
I don’t know why his words impact me so strongly.
I give a nod of gratitude and scurry out to the kitchen.
Until I realize it isn’t just his words—it’s that Rhett Kaiser has never looked at me like everyone else.
As Anastasia Kinsley, daughter of rich parents and a likely president, he looks at me like he sees potential, something invisible I’ve given up believing exists in me.
He looks at me like he’s waiting for me to take off a mask I’ve long forgotten I’m wearing.