AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What?” I gasp. “But you taught Cyrille!”
“Cyrille wasn’t pregnant at the time. And I knew Maksim wouldn’t string me up by my balls. I’m not so sure about Misha…”
“Misha took me shooting. He wants me to learn this stuff,” I argue. “And as for the pregnancy, just… just pretend that I’m not pregnant.”
He glances down at my stomach quite pointedly. “I’m not sure my imagination is that powerful.”
“I’m wearing stretchy fabric today. I look way bigger than I am. And self-defense is necessary whether I’m pregnant or not. I need to be able to protect myself.”
Konstantin rubs a hand across the back of his neck and sighs. “If Misha is teaching you to shoot, then that should be enough.”
“Misha’s lessons have been great, but they’re not good for him. He has to look at me as a vulnerable target in order to train me, and then he starts worrying. He doesn’t need the stress. And frankly, neither do I. Especially with this dinner approaching.”
“That’s actually a great point. You have a dinner to plan. Maybe you should focus on that.”
“I am! That’s why I want to train. I want to be armed. Just in case.”
Konstantin sighs. “How serious are you about this?”
“I’m prepared to follow you around all day and buzz in your ear like a mosquito until you give in.”
He grimaces like he’s in physical pain. “How both my cousins managed to find women so similar to each other, I’ll never know. Guess the Orlov boys have a type.”
“You’re an Orlov boy, too,” I point out. “I’m just giving you a taste of what the future has in store.”
“I’m not an Orlov,” he says, a hint of bitterness in his voice. Before I can ask what he’s talking about, he gestures for me to follow him. “If you’re going to be a brat about it, then come on. First lesson starts now.”
I clap my hands and celebrate. “How exciting.”
He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling as we head to the second floor gym.
The room is large with floor-to-ceiling windows on one side and floor-to-ceiling mirrors on the other. The natural light helps to create a welcoming space even as the intimidating machines in a straight line across the room warn me to stay far, far away.
“Do I need to, like, stretch or something?” I ask.
I know how to stretch. I stretch before every run. I can do that. But the torture-like weight machine closest to me? I can’t do that. Not yet.
Konstantin shrugs. “Sure. You can stretch if you want.”
I loosen up for the next ten minutes before I finally join Konstantin on the mat for our first lesson. He takes a moment to look me up and down. His gaze is critical, and I feel oddly self-conscious.
“Okay.” He moves forward and grabs my right arm. He lifts my hand into the air between us. “First of all, when it comes to a street fight, you want to avoid using your fist.”
“Really?”
“For you, yes. You’ve got a bunch of fragile bones there that can break easily, especially if you don’t know how to throw a proper punch.”
“So what am I left with?”
“The rest of your body. Elbows, knees. All the pointy stuff. A good elbow to the stomach or a knee to the groin will go a long way in protecting you.”
I bend my arms and legs lightly, feeling my joints as they hum with anxiety. “Got it.”
“Okay, so I’m going to come up behind you. I want you to think about the best way to throw me off.”
Konstantin moves up behind me, his arms wrapping around my shoulders. And I drive an elbow back into his stomach with all of my strength.
“Ow!” he grunts, stumbling back. “Maybe operate at half-power for right now, yeah?”
