Thanks to my obsession with all things fighting, I knew how to kill with a single strike, how to protect my knuckles, and how my cartilage and joints reacted to a sucker-punch versus an upper cut. I also knew how it would feel to the other person. I’d studied sketches and medical journals that showed which muscles contracted to absorb the blow, how blood gushed to an injury, how the nervous system highlighted pain.
I knew all that. I thought about all that. Even as my mind locked onto the only thing I could.
Fight.
Fight.
Fight.
Parry, swing, punch, duck.
Selix wasn’t like me. He didn’t need to know every minute detail about something to be good at it. He was a street survivor. He’d been the victor and victim.
We fought each other, delivering punishment while taking others. The cushioned mat in the bottom level of the yacht became slick with sweat as we painted each other in bruises.
I’d woken him up at daybreak and ordered him to join me in the gym. After talking to Pim, I couldn’t sleep. I’d stepped onto the deck and hadn’t returned to my quarters in case she was still there, asleep on my bed, innocent and open. I didn’t go back because I wouldn’t forgive myself if I took her up on the offer in her gaze and fucked her.
I wouldn’t fuck her.
Not when she offered it up as a gift—a painkiller to every screwed up thing I’d told her.
What was I thinking telling her that shit?
Christ, I couldn’t get rid of the shame.
So I took it out on Selix. Attacking him with more power, rage, and coldbloodedness than before.
I hadn’t been this close to slipping in years. Normally, my cello, fighting, and business kept my compulsive tendencies at bay.
That was before Pim.
Before she ruined me with her hopeless suicide eyes at Alrik’s.
The buzzer sounded, telling us as we circled and kicked that we’d been fighting for over two hours. We were both exhausted, both bleeding from cut lips and swollen noses, both weary with wounds.
Selix charged forward, landing a solid strike to my chest with his shoulder.
In repayment, I gave him three quick jabs to his ribcage. We separated and held up our hands, assessing the other and if it was time to quit or if we would fight until we couldn’t stand.
It was my decision. Selix wouldn’t back down.
I had to get a grip and accept that this was enough. That the obsession didn’t control me. I controlled the obsession.
Stepping backward, I bowed with deep respect. Honouring the discipline and honourable rules such fighting expected. “Thank you.”
Selix sighed, matching my bow with cupped fists. “Welcome.”
Touching knuckles, we rolled our shoulders, smirking in pain. “Well, I feel better.”
Selix chuckled. “You feel beaten up you mean.”
I laughed. “I think it was you who was beaten.”
“You think wrong.” Grabbing a towel from the rack in the corner, the mirrored walls showed him wiping his face and scrubbing his arms before tossing it into the hamper by the water cooler. Weight machines and treadmills glittered in the bright lights, coaxing unwilling bodies to do cardio.
Grabbing a drink, he muttered, “You gonna be okay today?”
Selix had his own attributes. One of which he could guess another’s agendas and flaws accurately. He’d never fully asked what I suffered from or why I’d sometimes play the cello for days or punish myself with sword wielding until I passed out from exhaustion. He knew enough to understand Pim’s introduction to my structured existence wasn’t easy.
“I’ll be fine.” Snatching a towel, I wrapped it around my neck and rubbed it through my hair, capturing the droplets of exertion. “I need to go back to the warehouse. Have a few things to run through with Charlton.”
“I’ll get ready and meet you in an hour. That work?” Selix moved toward the exit.
I nodded. “Fine.”
He left with a salute while I headed to the elevator and pressed the top floor. I’d shower and eat and then find Pim and hope to God my mind was in a safer place now the sun had risen, and I’d broken a few blood vessels.
Last night had been a mistake. I had no idea what possessed me to do such a thing, but it would never happen again. I wouldn’t let her get under my skin any more than she already had.
Striding into my suite, my heart clenched to find it empty. I didn’t want to acknowledge why disappointment climbed through my veins rather than relief.
Pim wasn’t in my room, but something foreign rested upon my bed: a large red parcel from one of the most expensive stores in Monte Carlo.
I’d ordered Jolfer to send one of his female staff to buy Pim more clothes. She needed a wardrobe that fit her better. She deserved dresses that clung to her and showed off how stunning she was rather than swamp her delicate frame.