Chapter 62 ~ To train her

Chapter 62 ~ To train her
ELLA

Even though he didn’t tell me how serious it was, I could tell from the way he had been gone most days and now he wanted me to train?

What was next? Learning how to shoot? I laughed to myself.

He opened the door and pulled me along with him. The training space was simple, almost bare, with white walls that seemed to close in on me. A few mats lay scattered across the cold floor, and a single overhead light cast a stark glow over the room.

He noticed my shocked expression and chuckled. “What is it?” he asked, his Italian accent thick.

Sometimes I forgot this man’s roots.

“It’s just simple. I didn’t know rich people did simple,” I answered honestly, and he just shook his head.

“You’re here to train, not on vacation. My men use much worse locations when training.”

“Here, change into these,” he said, handing me a pair of shorts and a sports bra from the bag.

“Right here?” I asked teasingly.

“Where else?” he shot back, and I cursed him under my breath.

I grabbed the clothes and slowly undressed as he watched me. His eyes followed my every move. I changed slowly, and he cursed under his breath.

The sports bra and shorts felt different, more comfortable than my usual clothes.

Adrian continued to watch as I adjusted everything, and I noticed a change in the atmosphere. It felt like we were shifting gears every second. My center throbbed for his touch, but I knew he wouldn’t give it to me.

Not now, at least.

He handed me a pair of sneakers from the bag, and I put them on. “How do you know my shoe size?”

“I fuck you every day. That’s the least information I would know,” he retorted, but I knew he was avoiding the real answer.

Fucking was one thing but knowing someone’s size meant he was paying attention to every little detail, and that was another thing entirely.

“Right.”

“Okay, ready?” Adrian asked, shifting back into serious training mode. I nodded, feeling a new kind of energy in the changed outfit. 

The empty bag sat in the corner, a reminder that sometimes, you needed to switch things up to be ready for what was coming.

“What are the rules?” I asked, jumping side to side and throwing a few punches in the air.

“No rules. The goal is what guides how far you’ll go. You need to understand what your intention is and focus on that. In a fight, emotions should always be secondary because they can cloud your judgment.”

“Shift your weight, Ella. Keep your guard up,” he said but all my brain heard was bells ringing, making it hard to follow any of his instructions.

This shit was harder than I thought.

“If we were in a real battle, you’d be dead by now,” he said as he pointed to the areas that were most deadly.

“No, I wouldn’t. You would protect me,” I retorted, running out of breath.

I couldn’t do this! I was going to die right here before anyone even tried to attack me and it wouldn’t be from a gunshot!

“Get fucking serious. Does this look like a joke to you?” he asked angrily.

Well, yes.

“No,” I blinked, and he muttered something in Italian.

One of these days, I was going to kill this man in his sleep.

“Then get your ass up,” he gritted through his teeth, and I felt like punching his nose.

But I thought twice about it.

I tried to follow his guidance, but my attempts at defending were clumsy, each move feeling like an uncoordinated dance. “Damn it,” I muttered under my breath as I stumbled, almost losing my balance. Sweat dripped down my forehead showing how tired I was.

The gorgeous evil man stood there, serious and unyielding. He didn’t allow room for excuses. 

“Again,” he commanded, his eyes fixed on mine.

There was a firmness in his voice that brooked no argument, and I forced myself to stand, ready to try again.

The room, once silent, now echoed with the sounds of exertion and the occasional thud as I hit the mat. “This is harder than it looks,” I admitted, frustration lacing my voice.

Adrian didn’t offer comforting words. Instead, he replied, “It’s supposed to be hard. Training is not about perfection; it’s about improvement.” 

Kill or be killed. The unspoken words hung in the air.

As Adrian’s intense gaze pierced through me, I mustered a weak smile. “Well, if I’m going down, at least it’ll be a memorable performance,” I joked, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere.

The man looked so angry as if I had stolen his money.

His response was a cold stare, and he retorted,

“This is not a time for jokes, Ella. Your life may depend on how seriously you take this.”

I highly doubted that, but who was I to kill a man’s dream, right?

I straightened up, refocusing on the training. “Got it,” I replied, the levity in my tone now replaced by a more serious note.

Adrian continued the drills, each movement precise and controlled. I tried to follow, but my coordination faltered.

“Shift your weight, Ella. Keep your guard up,” he repeated, his voice cutting through the sound of my stumbling.

“I swear, my weight has a mind of its own,” I quipped, attempting another jab at humor.

Adrian’s expression remained stern, unmoved by my attempts at lightening the mood. “Focus. Your jokes are terrible. I don’t think they can save you either.”

“No, they are not! I must tell you, I’m the funniest woman alive,” I said as I tried to execute the moves. My foot caught on the mat, and I stumbled once more. “Well, gravity is particularly strong today,” I remarked, trying to deflect my frustration.

“Again,” he commanded, his tone unyielding.

I tried, but my goodness what kind of self-defense required you to expand in all sorts of ways?

“No room for mistakes, Ella. In a real fight, you won’t get a second chance,” he asserted, his words hanging in the air.

I gritted my teeth, determined to prove myself. “No pressure, then,” I muttered, though I could sense that humor was no longer welcome.

His phone vibrated, saving me from the unbearable pain. He had been ignoring all calls, but as I stretched with my arms in the air, I caught the change in his expression from the corner of my eye. His face grew serious. That must have meant it was someone important.

“Viktor,” he breathed into the phone as the voice on the other side spoke.

His mouth twitched, and his jaw tightened which showed he was bloodthirsty angry.

“Come, we need to go,” he said the moment he ended the call.

From the way he moved, I didn’t dare disobey him.

But I couldn’t help but wonder who Viktor was and what he said to make this man drive like he was insane.

At the speed the car moved, it would be impossible to survive a crash.

Was that what he was aiming for?