“Why do I feel like I’m headed straight into a serial killer’s lair?”
“Don’t worry. This is where I get to know you—lull you into a false sense of security. I’ll take you to my cabin in the woods another day to kill you and cut up your body.”
She laughs for the first time since we met, and it’s at this moment I fall in love with the sound. She hesitates when we reach the top and I squish past her opening the door to the short hallway.
“That’s my place.” I point down the corridor to the door, farthest away. “I’ll show you it tomorrow after I tidy up a little.”
Both loft apartments are on the same side and face the back of the building. The empty one is closest to the stairway, and I swing the door open, motioning for Mila to enter.
She hesitates for a moment before slipping past me; her sweet scent invades my senses. I take a second to adjust myself before I follow her. I don’t want her to think I’m a creep as my unruly cock is already straining against my jeans from the erotic images running through my brain.
She drops her bag on the floor, and I observe her closed up expression. She surveys the substantial open space with high ceilings, exposed steel pipes, worn brick walls, and the shiny new wood floors I’m in the middle of installing.
“It’s modern, industrial chic,” I chuckle as I step closer, resting my hand on her shoulder. She flinches, so I quickly remove it, clearing my throat. “It has a bed and a bathroom with a shower, but the water pressure is shit, sorry. The kitchen isn’t complete yet, but you can use the kitchenette downstairs in the gym whenever you want. Feel free to roam around or workout down there.”
“What about rent…how much?”
“I’m not taking rent. You can stay here as long as you like.”
“I don’t feel comfortable—”
“Look…you don’t know me from Adam but—”
“Holy shit, it’s a waterbed.” She giggles after she falls backward, trying to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Yeah, I kind of insisted my parents buy me one when I was a teenager.” I grin. “Mom and Dad made me take it with me when I moved out.” I jam my hands in my front pockets as she stares at me. “Look…I don’t know what you went through or why you’re here, but I want you to know you’re safe here. You can trust me. You seem pretty tough, and you probably don’t need anyone to protect you…but I won’t let anything bad happen to you while you’re here.” There’s more to her story, and I’m going to find out. I want to know everything about her.
“Soraya already vouched for you.” She nods when I tell her I’m going to run next door to my apartment to grab her some sheets and towels, so she can take a shower.
When I return, she’s staring out the large, bare window leading to the fire escape, admiring the night sky. I lean against the doorjamb and observe her petite, toned body, and the way her long dark hair cascades down her shoulders. She’s an exotic beauty.
I walk toward her, and she turns around when I drop the sheets on the bed. “For your shower. If you’re cold, there’s extra blankets in the closet.” I take a step closer, handing her the navy bath towel. “You have some…” I rub my finger across the dirt on her cheek, “…grease.”
“Thank you,” she whispers softly before clearing her throat. “This is all kind of you. But I need you to know; I’m only here for one reason…to do a job.”
I inch toward her, and I must be a real asshole because her shaky intake of breath makes my dick hard. “I’m glad we got that settled.” I bend low, speaking in a soft tone, “Goodnight, Mila.”
I close the door behind me, listening for the lock to click.
I’m certain; I’m not going to be content until she’s fucking mine.
Chapter Four
I can’t remember the last time I was able to get a decent, full night’s sleep. I’m usually a restless sleeper, but Marco’s relic of a waterbed has me feeling like an angel floating on a warm cloud. Who knew the pleasure pit would be so damn comfortable.
Even though I promised myself I’d never rely on any man again; I followed Marco like he was the leader of the ‘warm bed and hot meal cult.’ He poured the Kool-Aid and I had no problem drinking it. In my defense, he seems like a nice guy, and at least it’s better than sleeping in my car.
I woke up early and knocked on Marco’s door, to thank him again for last night, but there was no answer. I decided to go to the corner bodega for a coffee and some snacks to stock in the fridge before the gym opens.
I snoop around a bit when I return, before anyone gets here. I browse the photos of all the boxers and MMA fighters hanging on the walls. I had no idea Marco was a fighter until I saw the picture of him standing tall in a cage with a gold belt around his waist, his fist raised in victory.
Marco must have left before I woke because I still haven’t seen him. Leah says he usually runs in the morning, and he should be back soon. I had to wait a little while before Leah showed up to start training me on my relatively simple job duties.
I practically grew up in a boxing gym. I kind of know what’s expected, I just need to learn the computer system.
I told Marco yesterday I’ve worked in a gym before. I didn’t say it was my father’s gym, and he was the heavyweight boxing champion, Zane The Hitman Kali. No one can know since I’m trying to avoid being found.
I smile to myself when I see a random photo of my dad with his autograph scribbled across it hanging on the wall in the break room. God, I miss him so much.
The gym quickly starts getting busy with a bunch of customers showing up for the defense class that’s starting in a few minutes.
I met the cutest eighty-two-year-old man named Tommy this morning. He’s originally from Boston, and he trains some of the more serious boxers here. He kind of reminds me of Mickey from the movie Rocky. When I questioned him about Marco fighting, he rasped, “Okay, I’m gonna tell ya. If Lion were still fighting, he’d hold the heavyweight MMA title.”
Being my nosy self, I ask Leah, when she finally looks like she being productive, “What are you working on?” She’s messing around with some sort of business display ad on her personal computer.
“Just some ads for the gym. Marco’s trying to bring in new business, since it’s been slow.”
“Mind if I take a look?” I wheel my office chair closer to take a gander. “I have a degree in communications and marketing.”
“Um…sure.” She stares for a moment, like she wants to ask me something. “Between you and me,” she leans in and whispers, “business isn’t great. This place means everything to Marco and his family. I told him I’d help, but I don’t think I’m very good at this.”
“I can look at it. Maybe I can help.”
“That would be awesome.” She slides the laptop over to me, simultaneously picking up her designer bag off the floor. “I’m going to run out and grab a coffee. I’ll bring one back for you. Do you think you can handle things for a bit?”
“Oh…uh…sure. That’s fine. I-I’ll be okay,” I stutter, but she’s halfway out the door already.