“And she laughed in my face! Then she walked away without eventryingit.”
“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. Andyes, 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 toher. 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 handleher. 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 waswaiting! The messageis 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.
Chapter 10
