Chapter 9
“Hey, man, how’s the New York compound? I haven’t visited yet. I told Mila I would come soon, though. I’m due to visit Grandma once she’s back from her trip, so I thought I could swing by and check it out then.”
I prop my phone on the bathroom counter so I have both hands free to shave my face. I really should shave everything, but it’s such a pain in the ass.
“It’s going great! I’ve been getting to know the guys here. They don’t say much at first, but after a few shots of vodka, they open up. We’ve already had some fun.”
“I wish the men here would lighten up some. I’ve tried everything, including liquor, but they haven’t cracked.”
“You just need the special touch. I bet I could have all of them partying it up in no time. Maybe before the season starts, I can come down and visit.”
“I was going to say, you can come down if you ever get lonely at the compound since Mila isn’t there much, but it sounds like you’re good.”
“What do you mean since Mila isn’t here much? Is she going somewhere?”
“When she left, she said she would likely not be at the compound much at all with all the business she has to do. That’s why I mentioned you staying there in the first place. I guess something must have changed.”
Oh, something changed, alright. Thatcher Prescott moved in, and now she can’t stand to be too far away. She moved me into the bedroom right beside hers. She wants me…she wants me bad.
“I gotta go. I’ll text you later. Thanks for checking in.”
I hang up the phone and turn the shower on. Time to get smooth, just in case.
“Late night?” Misha asks as I skulk into the gym.
I drop down onto a weight bench and prop my elbows on my thighs, rubbing my temples.
I guess it looks like I’m waking up from a rager, but this is the opposite.
This is the result of getting turned down again by Mila.
After trying and failing to impress her, I pulled out the big guns this morning.
I’ve never once had a woman turn down my breakfast. I make a killer omelet and pancakes.
After years of cooking for puck bunnies, I’ve learned to use only egg whites and perfected a low-carb pancake.
“No. Early morning.”
“Okay? And why are you moping around? You didn’t have to get up early. You could literally stay in your room all day, and nobody would bother you.”
“Yeah, that’s the fucking problem,” I mumble.
Misha chuckles and pulls a bench up to mine. “Wanna tell me what’s really going on, loverboy?”
“What? How do you…? Why would you say that?”
Misha shrugs. “I know everything. Am I wrong?”
“No, you aren’t wrong.”
“So do you want to tell me what happened to have you walking into my gym like someone killed your puppy this morning?”
“I’ve been trying everything to get Mila’s attention, and she won’t take the bait!
I thought she liked me when she moved me into the room next to hers.
And then Teddy told me she didn’t plan on staying at the compound much, but she’s been here every day, and, you know, maybe that was because of me—” Misha bursts out laughing. “What?”
“Okay…first off, Mila put you in the room next to hers because she’s afraid you’ll burn the whole house down.
And second, she hasn’t left because she has a shit ton of work to do and only a few months to get it done.
Look, don’t take her attitude so personally.
She’s head under water right now with the transition and, actually—” He looks at me with a raised brow and smirks.
“Actually, you might be good for Mila right now.”
“Yeah, well. She doesn’t want anything to do with me, so it doesn’t matter.”
“What happened this morning?”
“I got up super early—”
“Yes, you’ve said that already.”
“To make her breakfast before the staff needed the kitchen—”
“By staff, you mean our in-house, highly rated chef, who needed the kitchen to make her breakfast. Go on.”
“And she laughed in my face! Then she walked away without even trying it.”
“I would presume she went to the kitchen to get the breakfast that the Michelin-star chef made. You know, the one you woke up super early to beat…”
A blank stare is my only response.
“I’m sorry. That was a very nice gesture. What did you make for her?”
“I made my famous pancakes and egg white omelet! I make the best low-carb pancakes. It took me years, but I perfected my recipe.”
“Mm-hmm. Did you tell her that too?”
“Of course I did. Why do you think I make low carb in the first place? I learned my lesson a long time ago that women don’t like carbs. I even brought her some sugar-free syrup with them. And yes, I told her that too!”
“Well then, you deserved for her to laugh in your face.”
“Why would I deserve that?”
“Do you realize how brutally that woman trains on a daily basis? No? Would you normally eat low carb when you’re at the height of training? And do you think a few egg whites are enough protein for her?”
“Well, no. But all of the other women I’ve ever—”
“That’s your problem, Sunshine. Mila isn’t like other women. You’re doing the same vanilla, basic things that you do for little bunnies, and she’s a fucking valkyrie. You’ve gotta spice things up.”
“Spice things up? How can I spice things up? I’ve been giving her my best game, and nothing I say even makes her smile.”
“She knows her worth, so simple flattery isn’t going to cut it.
Unless you can offer her something better than she would get elsewhere, she isn’t going to bite.
For example, accepting the breakfast you made would have only been an inconvenience to her.
She had a much better option, so why would she choose yours?
Was it a nice gesture? Of course! But she isn’t one to care much for something just because it’s sentimental. ”
“What do I do with that?”
“You have to offer her something she can’t get anywhere else. Something exceptional.”
“Are you insinuating I don’t have a good dick? I’m an incredible fuck, thank you very much.”
“She can throw a rock and hit a man who can fuck. But Mila is a very…dominant woman. What she needs is someone who can handle her. Not the other way around.”
I’ve had some wild times over the years, but I’ve never been with someone I couldn’t handle. She’s not a tiny woman, but I’m strong enough to throw her around, and I have incredible endurance. Maybe he just means her attitude, but I think that’s sexy as hell, no problem there.
“Someone who can handle her?”
Misha squeezes my shoulder as he stands and walks over to his favorite rack. “Come watch her train today. We’re sparring this afternoon after meetings. I’ll text you before we start.”
Why the hell is everything dark? Shit! My “quick” nap apparently turned into quite the event. After taking a moment to stretch, I grab my phone. The messages and missed call from Misha confirm that I’m late for the one thing I was looking forward to today.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I’ve literally been waiting on this bat signal all day. That’s why I got so sleepy in the first place. I was waiting! The message is from an hour ago, so maybe they’re still sparring. If I run, I might still have a chance.
Speeding down the hall, I ignore everyone on the way to the training facility.
Misha and I train every day, and I’ve seen most of the men there at some point, but I’ve never gotten the chance to see Mila.
I’ve heard things, insane things, about her agility.
The men hold her in an almost mythical esteem, and the lore of her prowess precedes her.
Her schedule has been so packed that I’ve barely seen her since I arrived, so I’m not surprised she isn’t in the gym often.
My cardiac fitness is excellent, but by the time I burst into the facility, I’m gasping for air. When Mila crosses my path, any chance of catching my breath vanishes.
The moment I see her, whatever breath I had left is gone.
The stories of her athleticism don’t do her justice.
She’s magnificent. Mila isn’t a lithe woman—she’s tall and strong and resplendent.
But the way she moves around the sparring mat is almost otherworldly.
Her movements are fluid and unpredictable, as if she’s dancing, not fighting.
It’s beautiful, and Misha is struggling to survive.
He’s been kicking my ass since I got here.
Misha is the strongest, most agile, in shape motherfucker I’ve ever met, yet here he is, getting his ass handed to him by this… this valkyrie.
Her skin is its usual porcelain color, no flushing from overexertion. She’s not even sweating, although Misha is drenched. He’s as red as a beet and panting. Meanwhile, Mila is as quiet as a panther stalking her prey.
Fuck. Misha is right, she’s not like all the other women I’ve pursued.
This isn’t any regular woman I’m dealing with.
Mila is extraordinary, and it’s going to take extraordinary measures to win her over.
I can, though. One thing I know for certain is that I can handle this woman.
The longer I watch, the more assured I am that I was born to handle Mila Taranova. I just have to prove it to her.