Thank God I’m finally over my period, and I don’t feel so damn fragile, but still. I’m a total wimp compared to this man.
“Come on, Lu,” Mateo says, reaching for my left arm and tugging me onto the mat.
We’re in a private room down in the gym, with lots of mats and mirrors and plenty of space to move around.
I feel so clumsy doing this. Scarlett is graceful and lean, and she may not know what she’s doing, but she looks good while she’s doing it.
Me?
I look like a giant marshmallow getting slung around.
“This issonot sexy,” I grumble as I join him on the mat.
Mateo’s dark eyes go hard and narrow on me. “We’re not here to be fuckingsexy.We’re here to work.”
“Don’t get pissy with me,” I counter and watch his jaw flex. “I’m just saying I feel self-conscious. Because I’m fat, and I don’t move quickly, and I look ridiculous.”
“For the last time,” Scarlett says, her eyes on the ceiling, “you’renotfat! You’re curvy. And we both feel like we look ridiculous because we suck at this. Now, stop getting all up in your head and kick his ass.”
Mateo smirks but continues to watch me.
“Fine.” I blow out a breath. “What do I do?”
He doesn’t answer. He advances on me way faster than a man his size should and wrenches my left arm behind my back, and I immediately cry out as the pain sears through me.
Mateo’s hands release me, and I cradle my left arm to me.
“Fuck,” I whisper as I try to rub the pain out of the joint.
“What the hell was that?” Mateo demands.
“I’ve had my shoulder dislocated more times than I can count.” I shake my head and try to shake it off. “But any asshole who’s trying to kill me won’t feel bad for me and go for the right one instead, so don’t hold back.”
“Fuck that,” Mateo says, scowling. “Who fucking did that to you?”
“My piece-of-shit father,” I bite out and watch Scarlett’s face go white. “He liked to hurt me, if you must know. Bruise me. Break me. But his favorite was wrenching this shoulder out of joint as often as he could. So yeah, that hurts, but I’ll get over it. Now, try to kick my ass because just thinking about that piece of shit pisses me off, and now I want to fight back.”
But he doesn’t move toward me. He’s watching me, his arms crossed over his chest.
“You hate him.”
“With every cell in my body,” I confirm and mirror his stance by crossing my arms. “I hope his death is long and painful. And soon. And I hope I get to watch.”
He tilts his head to the side. “So you’re really not trying to fuck Rome over by spying on him for your father?”
I blink at him, positive I heard him wrong.
“What the fuck did you just say?”
But he doesn’t say it again, and the blood in my veins turns to fire.
“Fuck you,” I say, moving toward him. “You think I would hurt Rome for a man who not only liked to hurt me but also enjoyed making me watch him torture the people he killed? Watched him hack them up and make them scream and beg and spit and piss themselves? The man who killed my mother viciously in front of my own eyes? You can go to hell because Rome is the first man in this world to show me even an ounce of kindness, tenderness, and gentleness. To make me feel safe.”
My hand flies up to hit Mateo across the face, but he blocks me and holds my wrist in his hand, watching me carefully.
“Okay,” he says while I continue to pant through my rage. I hear Scarlett sniffle behind me. “I’m going to come at you from behind, and I want you to get out of my hold.”
I’m startled by the change of subject, but when I really look at Mateo, I see a change in his face. He doesn’t look mad at me like he always has. He’s not happy. In fact, he’s still pissed, but it’s not at me. This is the look of a man who hates my father with the same level of contempt as me. Who believes me.
