Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
I shuddered as I stared at him, but not just with aftershocks of fear. He made me sound completely helpless while conveniently ignoring the circumstances. “I may never even see Diego again,” I sniped at him, “so you don’t need to worry about him touching me.”
“Fuck him. This isn’t about Diego. It’s on you.” Cristiano’s chest rose and fell a little faster as he cracked his knuckles. “It never occurred to Costa to teach you how to sever a brachial artery or handle a handgun? It never occurred to you to learn to defend yourself?”
I removed my fingers from my throat, but the ghost of the cold metal blade remained. “I did defend myself. I left this life. You’re the one who brought me back in.”
“If your father had ever upset the wrong people . . . don’t you think they’d have been able to track you down in California? Did you think that precious, flimsy bubble you created for yourself would keep you hidden? You don’t know the simplest self-defense. Can you even operate a bottle of pepper spray?”
“Is there more to it than point and spray?”
“For fuck’s sake, Natalia.” He ran a hand through his black, normally smooth hair. Now that he’d disheveled it, it stuck up. “Given the malfunction rate, taking a few minutes to learn would behoove you.”
“I was doing just fine until you took me.” I scowled. “Why are you teaching me this?”
“Do you think I want a wife who’ll crumble the moment an attacker puts his hands on her? I need you to fight back.” The edge to his voice faltered as he added, “I need you to save yourself and come home to me.”
I drew back. Cristiano wanted to arm me . . . but did he not realize I could use what I learned against him? There was almost something romantic in his response, and despite the heat, a shiver worked its way through me. “What if I am home?” I asked. “Barto got in.”
“Believe me, I’m aware. I wasn’t planning to work on this with you so soon, but today was enough to open my eyes to the fact that I can’t be everywhere you are all the time.”
That was why he’d reacted so aggressively, then. And scared the shit out of me just now. Not that I was about to admit that I probably wouldn’t have taken this little lesson so seriously otherwise.
He widened his stance and looked down his nose at me. “First, you have to change your mindset. You’re in control of your life. You can take down an attacker of my size. With a knife to your throat, you might get cut, you’ll likely get hurt, but you can fight for your life and escape. Come here,” he said.
“No.”
“Get your ass over here now.”
I took a moment to catch up and process what was happening. Cristiano was actually going to teach me this. How to fight. How to protect myself. That was something nobody else had ever given me. Not even Mamá. Protection had always come from someone else. But as this morning had proved, I couldn’t always rely on others. That put me at risk. And Cristiano, apparently, wasn’t having it.
I exhaled and stalked toward him until we were toe to toe. “Now what?”
“Turn around.”
When I did, he carefully enveloped my shoulders and drew my back against his front. He positioned the sheathed edge of the blade to my neck again. “Show me how you’d fight me off.”
I grabbed his forearms and pulled, but he didn’t budge.
“You can’t compete with my strength,” he said, “so don’t try.”
“Then I’d kick my heels into your shin or aim for your groin.”
“Don’t tell me,” he said. “Show me. It’s how you’ll learn.”
I stomped on his foot, but his shoes must’ve had steel toes for all the good it did. He just laughed. I couldn’t angle to kick him, so I bucked my hips back into his groin.
“You’re moving too much,” he said. “Either you just slit your own throat or gave your attacker a hard-on.”
Without thinking, I pinched the skin of his forearm between my teeth.
“You’re a biter,” he said. “I sort of suspected you might be . . .”
My tongue flickered over his skin, tasting salt. To my horror, my nipples tingled. I removed my mouth to see I’d left a red mark.
“Usually,” he said, “your chin would be locked by my forearm. I’m just not holding you as tightly as I would if this were real.”
“Maybe you should,” I said and mimicked, “How else will I learn?”
“Relax, Rocky. We’ll get there. I’m just walking you through it now.” He strengthened his hold. “If you were ever in this position, it’d likely be a planned attack. But not necessarily. Given what we do, your attacker could easily be drunk or high—his pain tolerance will be elevated, and he won’t be fazed by a nibble, or, depending on what he’s on, something as severe as a stab wound.”