Chapter 19 #2
“We only have thirteen days left until fight night,” she says. “But we can’t rely on winning by points alone. The judges hate Danny and may not score fair. That’s why we need a clear submission or a knockout.”
“A submission is when a fighter taps out on the mat, right?” I say. “Then the ref breaks it up before they get seriously hurt.”
Gracie nods. “Yes. But you need to understand that DeLuca will try to kill him in that ring. Like actually kill him. So, if you don’t like your little boyfriend getting bruised in my training sessions, then maybe he should be running my defense drills instead of sailing around on cloud nine with you. ”
Her words pummel the air out of my chest. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do.” Gracie crosses her arms. “Danny needs his head in the game, which means whatever is heating up between the two of you needs to be put on ice. Now.”
“There’s nothing going on,” I say, racing to correct her. Racing to lie.
“You are in so over your head, princess.” She shakes her head and gives me an almost pitying look. “I’m assuming he told you about us?”
“He mentioned you two had a history,” I say hesitantly.
Gracie smirks. “Everyone has a history with the ‘Lothario of Lahaina.’ You can’t throw a stone in this sport without hitting a woman he’s bedded and left brokenhearted. That’s his whole thing.”
Her words settle on me like those first few snowflakes that stick, building on each other. Building on what I already suspected about Danny. I shiver.
“His personal life is of no concern to me. I’m only here to keep him on the straight and narrow before his fight.”
“You’re here because Danny has a kink for sad women he thinks he can fix.”
My knees feel unsteady, like they might buckle beneath me. Sad women? “I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”
“Um, I lived it, so I’m pretty sure that I do.
With Danny, it’s always the same. He’ll take you under his wing, show you the world from his perspective until you lose yours entirely, make you feel things you never thought possible,” Gracie says, her eyes glinting in the overhead light.
“It’s intoxicating. Until it’s dangerous. ”
“His romantic history is none of my business,” I say, my chin raised.
“And just so you know, he gave me zero details about what happened between the two of you because he respects your privacy. So if you want to hold a messy breakup over his head and beat him bloody for fun, that’s your prerogative.
But please don’t call it coaching. Call it what it is—revenge. ”
“Ah, I remember this part.” Gracie smiles. “The defending of him. Being so sure he’s just misunderstood. Because you know better, right? You know the real Danny. You can be the one to change him.”
I cross my arms. “The whole reason I took this job is to follow the man I love to Los Angeles for the summer. Danny was resistant to having a life coach, so I found a workaround. I’m merely playing a part to get the desired outcome for my client, not that my methods are any of your business.”
The lie tastes bitter in my mouth. Maybe I was playing a part at first, but not anymore. I hazard a look at her face to see if she bought it.
Gracie raises her eyebrows. “Fine. And mine are none of yours. Hopefully, for Danny’s sake, we both get it right.”
She rises from her desk and exits the little office into the main gym, marching over to Danny, who is busy doing leg raises at the pull-up bar.
Before his next rep, bringing his legs up ninety degrees, she kicks him as hard as she can in the stomach, making his abs clench. Then she does it again, and again.
Topher watches helplessly, then turns to glance at me, a question of why in his glacial eyes.
My heart sinks. Gracie is going harder on him, just like Danny warned me she would.
I can’t watch, so I slip out the front door for a walk. When I’m halfway around the block, I call Maya.
“Something terrible has happened,” I whisper, cupping my hand around the bottom of the phone so she can hear me. “Something reckless and completely inappropriate.”
“You’ve come to the right place. Reckless and inappropriate are my specialties.”
“I seem to be having some sort of one-third-life crisis. You need to plan an intervention. Preferably somewhere sunny.”
“Let me guess—you did what any red-blooded American woman would have done and bedded that absolute specimen of a man you’ve been spending every waking moment with.”
“Yes.”
“And it was transcendent, and your legs are still shaking.”
“They’ve only recently stopped, but yes. God, Maya. What am I doing? I thought if I could be more relaxed and comfortable in my own skin, it might make Casey more likely to fall for me. But now …”
“Now you think you might be falling for the specimen?”
“I don’t know. I’m confused.”
“Multiple orgasms will do that to a girl.”
“He makes me feel like a different person. I’ve done things with him, felt things with him, that I didn’t know I was capable of.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“Oh, just the fact that I now have verbal confirmation that he’s a total womanizing rake who will shatter my heart like glass if I fall for him, and who is only spending time with me because he’s contractually obligated to do so.”
“Ah, yes. Everyone takes the time to break down the emotional walls of their business partners.”
“And he’s got this sadistic trainer who looks like Lara Croft, and he’s clearly slept with her, because she hates him with the fury of a thousand suns, and now she seems to hate me, too, for some reason. Probably because she can sense that I’ve now slept with him.”
“Sounds hot. Is she single?”