Kissing me on the forehead, he gifts me with one last, gorgeous smile. “Goodnight,piccolo bacio.”
Chapter Twelve
In which Tatiana goes low.
No Doubt - I'm Just A Girl
Tatiana…
The sun is breaking through the typical Irish cloud cover and the bright rays feel like they’re mocking me. If the weather matched my mood, we’d be in a violent storm with lightning strikes and a vicious downpour. Zimmerman has never hidden his contempt for me. If this isn’t a decisive win, he’ll have an excuse to kick me out.
It feels like I’m walking to my execution.
“Take a deep breath and let it out,” Lucca leans in, almost whispering in my ear. “Do it.”
Shakily doing as he says, I feel the tightness in my chest loosen, just a bit.
“Do it again.”
Blowing the breath out between my pursed lips, I force my shoulders to relax.
Lucca puts his hand on the back of my neck, squeezing gently. “This isn’t a fight to the death,” he said, “you just have to prove you’re capable of holding your own.” He kisses the top of my head. “And you are capable, okay?” We pause in the middle of the path as he puts his hands on my shoulders. “Say it.”
“I don’t-”
“You fire with the accuracy of a military sniper, you’re already ahead of your class in computer hacking and the dark web, you-”
“How did you know all of that?” I interrupt.
“The point here,” he said patiently, “is that for someone who got dumped onto this campus four weeks ago, you’re moving ahead, not falling behind. Physical combat may not be your strength, but you’ve made more progress in a month than anyone I’ve seen. You can do this.”
Staring up into his amber eyes, I feel oddly grateful. I know Lucca well enough now to know he wouldn’t sugarcoat it for me. If he thought I was going to get my ass kicked, he would tell me. As ego-crushing as it would be.
“Okay,” I nod, “thank you.”
“Say, ‘I can do this,’” he persists.
Rolling my eyes, I repeat, “I can do this.”
“Just for that eye-roll,” he whispers, “I’m turning your ass red tonight.”
I make an incoherent, whiney little noise and he laughs, urging me down the path to the combat class.
“Miss Aslanova,” Professor Zimmerman stands in the middle of the gym, arms folded and biceps bulging in his clean white t-shirt. “You were given a month to develop even the most basic combat skills. Let’s see what you’ve learned from Mr. Toscano.”
My blood pressure is so high that it’s a miracle I’m not having a stroke. “Yes, Professor,” I manage, after clearing my throat three times.
“Mr. Tanaka, join Miss Aslanova on the mat.”
A murmur flows through the group like leaves scattering in the wind. Hiroto Tanaka is the second son of one of the most dangerous leaders in the Yakuza. He’s already sporting dozens of tattoos indicating his rank. I know from watching him that he’s not the strongest fighter in class, but he’s definitely a step above Ania Jankowski, and even she is looking at me with concern.
That bastard Zimmerman. What did I ever do to him? Why does he want me out of here so badly? Squaring my shoulders, I stare at his expressionless face. I can still sense his smug satisfaction.
Lucca casually walks behind the professor so that my gaze moves to him. His mouth curves into a gorgeous smile as he nods at me.
Bringing up my fists to protect my face, I plant my feet. Lucca taught me countermoves for most of the fighting styles I’d seen in class. I’ll never take down Tanaka with his martial arts skills, so I have to go dirty.
“You never stop fighting until they’re down,” Lucca had told me. “The fight is not over until they’re incapacitated.”
