Page 89 of Billionaire’s Heartbreak

She tilted her head. “You know martial arts?”

“I know enough.”

“Enough to fight a room full of armed men?”

“Probably not.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “At least you're honest.”

I smiled. “Wing Tsun doesn't rely on brute strength. It focuses on efficiency. Direct movement. Using an opponent's force against them.”

“And it was invented by Bruce Lee?”

I laughed. “No.”

“Then who?”

“According to Wiki, it was developed by a woman.”

She looked at me with renewed interest. “A woman?”

“That's the story.” I held out my hand. “I can teach you a few things.”

She looked at my hand, then at me. “And the weapons?”

“We'll figure that out.”

She rolled her eyes, but finally stood.

I watched as she stepped onto the mat, barefoot, her hair pulled back loosely with several strands falling around her face. She looked tired. Still pale. Still carrying the weight of everything that had happened.

I started teaching her how to stand. She argued that my instructions made no sense, deliberately doing everything wrong just to annoy me. Somewhere between her laughter and my frustration, I realised something.

I didn't want this moment to end.

“Fine. But if you break my nose, I'm blaming you.”

I smiled. “Raise your hands.”

She copied me with all the grace of someone trying to remember a dance she'd only seen once. “Like this?”

“Almost.”

I stepped closer and gently adjusted her elbows. My fingertips barely brushed her forearms, but even that small contact made her glance up at me.

“There.” Our arms rested lightly against each other. “This drill is called Chi Sau. Sticky hands.”

“Sticky hands?”

“The idea is to maintain gentle contact.” I slid my forearm against hers, and she instinctively followed. “You learn to feel what the other person is doing through touch instead of relying entirely on sight.”

“So… don't hit you?”

“Not yet.”

I guided her through the slow rolling motion, our forearms circling and reconnecting. At first, she was stiff. Every muscle seemed determined to fight the movement.

“Relax,” I said softly.