MILLIE
“Come,” he gestured, holding the door for me, and together we entered a room with a low ceiling, heavy with humidity and the distinct scent of effort from the many male bodies that had graced this space. I wrinkled my nose at the sensory assault.
Amused, Gio commented, “Our atmosphere isn’t exactly tailored for sensitive female noses.”
Claiming my bag, I moved toward an available locker, and Gio followed suit, placing his own bag on a worn, scratched bench. With the prospect of changing before me, I half-jokingly requested, “Aren’t you going to afford me some privacy?”
Raising an eyebrow, Gio’s gaze lingered on me as he unbuckled his holster and then peeled his shirt from his sculpted torso. The motion revealed his tanned muscles, and the challenging glint in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed. Suppressing my exasperation, I turned my back to him and started the process of changing my attire. I pulled my tank top over my head, feeling his presence like an electric pulse behind me. As I reached for the clasp of my bra, his deft fingers intercepted mine, accomplishing the task with practiced ease. The realization that he could unhook a bra with a single finger garnered an internal eye-roll. Retrieving my sports bra, I quickly slipped it on before proceeding to shed my shorts. A sudden regret surfaced for my choice of a thong that morning. With a slight flush, I tugged it down along with my shorts, berating myself for the selection. Selecting plain black panties typically worn during my treadmill runs, I donned my jogging shorts over them before facing Gio again.
He had donned black sweatpants and a snug white shirt that accentuated his remarkable physique, a telltale bulge in his pants betraying his thoughts. Was it really due to my choice of clothing?
I couldn’t help but comment, “This is what I wear when I go jogging. I didn’t exactly pack a wardrobe for self-defense lessons.”
His gaze trailed down my figure as he smirked, “I’ll have to fend off every guy whose gaze lingers too long on you. And dressed like that, my men might find that a challenge.”
I shrugged nonchalantly, a hint of defiance in my tone. “I’m not responsible for their self-control. Wearing something revealing doesn’t grant an open invitation. If they can’t manage themselves, it’s on them.”
Gio guided me with a confident stride out of the dimly lit changing room, our steps echoing faintly against the concrete floors of the underground training facility. As we emerged onto the sparring floor, the group of men who had been engaged in combat practice seemed to sense his presence and instinctively created a respectful distance, casting furtive glances in our direction. Their avoidance of eye contact was palpable, a clear acknowledgment of the unspoken hierarchy in the room.
With Gio in the lead, we traversed the open space toward an array of weaponry meticulously displayed against the cold, metallic wall. His discerning gaze scanned the assortment of blades, weighing options only he seemed to comprehend. Finally, he selected a knife with a blade as sleek and polished as obsidian, its hilt fitting snugly against his palm. He passed it to me, his fingers brushing mine in the exchange. Strangely, he opted not to equip himself with a weapon, a gesture that didn’t escape my notice.
Taking a stance across from me, Gio exuded an air of casual nonchalance. Despite the scrutinizing eyes fixed upon us, he appeared wholly unaffected, as if the world beyond the sparring mats had dissolved into insignificance. It was a performance, a choreographed act meant for the audience of his men. This was no private duel; it was a spectacle designed to reaffirm his dominance.
“Attack me,” he instructed, his voice pitched just enough to carry to those who watched. “But mind that you don’t cut yourself.”
A natural question arose within me. “Don’t you plan to arm yourself as well?” I queried, curiosity lacing my words.
His response was a dismissive shake of his head, a calculated gesture that seemed to declare his confidence. “No need. I’ll have yours soon enough.”
His words held a mixture of arrogance and truth, a combination that left a trace of discomfort in their wake. A challenge had been laid, and my determination flared in response. Awaiting his signal, I positioned myself, bracing for the engagement.
Gio’s eyes locked onto mine, his gaze unwavering. The world around us seemed to blur into the periphery as I focused on his form. Then, in an instant, motion surged forth. I lunged forward, attempting a swift strike, but he moved with a swiftness that defied the laws of physics. He sidestepped my advance effortlessly, his hand finding my wrist with a precision that sent my body spinning. The impact of my back against his chest was a jarring collision, a testament to his mastery of control.
A strained breath escaped my lips, and I felt the weight of his proximity. This was a dance of strategy and power, an orchestrated interplay meant to demonstrate his dominance. His grip on my wrist, though firm, held a calculated restraint, like a predator toying with its prey.
“We’re not there yet,” I retorted, my voice edged with a mixture of defiance and exasperation.
His lips brushed my ear as he responded, the proximity of his voice sending a shiver down my spine. “Acquiring the knife from you without harm wouldn’t be impossible,” he murmured, a subtle threat woven within his words. Then, he released me, and I stumbled slightly, regaining my footing.
“Again,” Gio’s command rang out, and with a renewed determination, I pressed forward in a series of attempts. However, despite my efforts, I found myself unable to breach his defenses, the knife’s blade barely grazing the air around him.
Frustration simmered beneath my skin, and as the next opportunity presented itself, I abandoned the notion of fairness. Swiftly advancing, I aimed a kick at a vulnerable angle. The collective cheer of his watching soldiers was short-lived as his hand intercepted my foot with alarming precision. The world turned upside down as I was swiftly brought down, the impact jarring my senses.
Lying on my back, the breath knocked out of me, I released my grip on the knife. Disorientation held me briefly, and I closed my eyes against the harsh reality of the defeat. Gradually, awareness returned, and his touch on my abdomen drew a reflexive tensing of muscles beneath his warm palm. His concern was evident, his question a soft inquiry that cut through the aftermath of combat.
A deep breath filled my lungs as I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze. “I’m alright,” I assured him, the words a testament to my resilience. A quick survey of the watching faces revealed a mix of amusement and respect. A wave of jest rose within me. “Don’t you have a soldier, perhaps one of shorter stature and timid disposition, who would willingly take me on?” I quipped, a grin tugging at my lips.
A proclamation echoed through the space, his voice infused with an authoritative charisma. “My men fear nothing.” The camaraderie of his soldiers was unmistakable, their reactions a testament to their unwavering loyalty.
A flicker of amusement danced across Gio’s features, a trace of a smile gracing his lips. “It seems you’re left with only one option then.”
As the spar continued, each exchange left me breathless and determined. Yet, amidst the clashes and near misses, a serendipitous moment arrived. His proximity allowed me to seize a chance, and without hesitation, I turned and bit down on his upper arm. His stunned release allowed me an instant, and I aimed a jab with the knife, only to be met with his firm grip.
“Did you just bite me?” His incredulous question hung between us, his gaze dropping to where my teeth had left their impression on his skin.
My retort was swift, infused with a playful note. “Not forcefully enough, it appears. No sign of bloodshed.”
A subtle shift in his shoulders revealed a struggle to contain his amusement, the facade of control momentarily crumbling. His laughter, deep and resonant, filled the air-a response unforeseen yet undeniably welcomed.
“I believe you’ve caused sufficient havoc for the day,” he admitted, his tone carrying a rare warmth.
In the tapestry of the underground arena, amidst the dance of combat and the unspoken bonds of loyalty, a connection had been solidified-one that transcended the clash of steel and the trials of dominance.