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She’s right, it really isn’t that serious. I could’ve just told her what we were doing, but then I wouldn’t get to see how irritated she gets by the obnoxious obstacle course I’m making her go through before we even walk through the empty storefront.

I had Guy lay out all kinds of weird shit in the parking lot, and I’ve been making her balance on two-by-fours and jump over large boulders just for my own amusement. At one point, I guided her onto her belly and had her scoot underneath an upside-down plastic slide.

She’s going to murder me when she realizes all this time, she’s just been doing parkour in the back of Restaurant’s parking lot just for my own enjoyment.

It’s evil, yes. But I’m still getting back at her for all those sneaky nudes she sent to torture me with.

Honestly, I’m just surprised she hasn’t caught on to it by now.

I lead her over the final boulder and carefully nudge her through the door.

Her breathing is strained from all the activity, but I can see she’s trying to hide it. I shake my head and blow out a laugh. This damn woman, always worried about how she’s perceived. What’s it going to take for her to finally let go of the control? Give people a chance to love her for all the things she’s not. Sure, some will definitely criticize her for it, but it’s not like they aren’t talking shit about her already. I think she’d be pleasantly surprised by the relief she feels for not having to try so hard. Plus, she may even find out that people love her more for being authentic.

I may not be able to fix it for her, but at least I can help her work through some of that frustration.

“Here we are.”

“Finally,” she breathes out a heavy breath. “Remind me not to trust any more of your surprises. If I knew I was going to be climbing a mountain, I wouldn’t have agreed to this so easily.” She jerks her head side to side like she’s trying to figure out where we are. “You should know, I’m afraid of heights. So if you think I’m going to jump off a cliff or something, you’re sadly mistaken,” she warns.

“Noted,” I say with a chuckle.

The sharp inhale that she makes when I slide my palm up her back has my dick growing hard, and I have to remind myself that that isn’t what this is about right now.

She bounces her leg in frustration as I take my time untying the bandana from around her eyes. “Will you hurry up? The anticipation is killing me!”

“Here we are,” I say as I remove the blindfold, revealing a dark room dimly lit by red accent lights.

At first glance, it looks like a poorly organized thrift store, everything dispersed around the room with no order whatsoever. There’s an old tube TV standing in the center, surrounded by old ceramic lamps and even a microwave. Across from the TV, a folding table is piled high with various dishes, plates, and bowls stacked into fragile leaning towers. Several teacups are strewn around the cluster of dishes, arranged like a chaotic scene out of Alice in Wonderland. Other random technology is placed around the room. A giant boombox radio, an older-style PC, and even a fax machine are all scattered around the room like a graveyard of preserved junk.

“What… What is this?” Kira asks, looking around.

I gesture to the collection of broken items. “This is your very own rage room.”

She blinks at me. “What’s a rage room?”

“Seriously?” I stare back at her in bewilderment. “You’ve never heard of a rage room?” I direct her to the pegboard wall, pointing out the variety of baseball bats, both wooden and metal, as well as sledgehammers, crowbars, and different-sized golf clubs lined up on display. “There’s pretty much a weapon for anything you can think of. Whatever tickles your fancy.” I grab a metal ball off the shelf and toss it up to test its weight. “And if swinging heavy sticks isn’t your thing, you can always keep things interesting with your choice of bowling ball or shot put.” I toss her the heavy metal ball, and she easily catches it.

She narrows her eyes. “So I’m supposed to break all this shit?”

I flash her a grin as I take the ball from her, tossing it up in the air before catching it. “You get to break all this shit.

“Okay…” she drags out. “But why?”

“Rule #3: Cry, scream, and throw a tantrum whenever the opportunity presents.” I gesture to the room.

She just looks at me. “How do you know about Rule #3…” Her eyes go wide. “Wait… Did you read my book?”

“Cover to cover,” I say as I walk over to peruse the wall of weapons. “It was quite enlightening, actually.”

“I don’t understand.” She shakes her head, feet still planted in place. “Why would you read a book about embracing your female rage?”

“Because I hate feeling helpless,” I say as I grab a helmet from the wall and crook my finger for her to come closer. “Now get your ass over here.”

She lets out a sigh and stomps forward with an exaggerated eye roll, like this is the most ridiculous idea imaginable. Still, she goes along with it, and a stupid amount of pride swells in my chest.

“Good girl.” I secure the goggles over her eyes, followed by the helmet.

“What’s the point of this again?” she asks as I help her into the heavy gloves.