The Power of a Woman: A Mafia Erotic Romance (15 page)

I pulled away to look into his eyes.

“I’ll text you the address. Can you do that for me?”

“Of course,” I answered, already knowing I’d do anything he asked.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out to read Stefan’s message.

Meet me at one at Tribeca Health & Fitness…105 Chambers St.

I shut my eyes and inhaled deeply before replying. A million questions bounced around in my head as to why he wanted to meet me there with it being so far away. My intuition told me it wasn’t to join a gym as a couple.
See you then,
I sent in response.

Like some schoolgirl with a crush, I ran over to my closet to pick out the hottest gym outfit I had. No fucking way would I go like some scrub without class. I wanted to look good, but Juicy Couture was so out. So I settled on a pair of capris leggings and matching sports bra-type top that would show off my flat stomach. I took off for the shower and stood under the spray just long enough to apply soap and rinse off, leaving my hair dry. After applying what I’d like to call a fresh, natural face—which was makeup without really looking
made
up—I added a little sheer gloss and was out the door.

I arrived at the Tribeca Health and Fitness a few minutes early, figuring I could scope the place out before Stefan arrived, but he was already at the front desk speaking with a man. I walked up to him, my knap-sack over my shoulder, and stood by his side. I clutched my knap-sack with a death grip since it served as my security blanket. As I smiled in greeting, I tried to appear neutral, but my nerves were standing on end. This place was foreign to me and I didn’t feel comfortable here. The energy inside did seem positive, which is something I desperately needed at the moment. Ever since my encounter with Zeke, my self-confidence had been in the shitter.

“Hey,” he greeted me looking sexy in plain black jogging pants and a matching hoodie.

“Hey.” I gave a shy grin and then turned my attention to the dark-haired man who smiled wildly at me like he knew me.

Stefan wrapped his arm around my waist, drawing me into his side, and addressed the strange man. “This is Jordana.” Stefan’s body language conveyed that I was
his
. It sent my heart into an instant happy dance.

“Welcome, Jordana.” His thick Israeli accent made it almost impossible for me to understand him. “I’m Rick. Do you know anything about Krav Maga?” he asked politely before walking around the counter to where I stood with Stefan.

The first thing I noticed was that his T-shirt had the words “Krav Maga” in big, bold, black letters. Then my thoughts drifted to…no way was his name Rick. This situation reminded me of going to get a manicure at the place around the corner from where I lived. The woman there introduced herself as Cindy, but it was evident that wasn’t her real name. Her real name was probably originated from where she was born. She’d chosen an American name in order to fit in and be more attuned with her American clients. There is no way in hell that Rick was his real name.

I had no idea what Krav Maga even meant, and felt a little silly about admitting that to this man. I shrugged my shoulders and figured it might’ve been a new spin class or something. It’d been a while since I’d even been to the gym, so who knew what fancy-named aerobics class had been invented in my absence. “Is it like Pilates? Because I’ve taken those classes in my neighborhood.”

“No. It’s nothing like
your
Pilates,” he said, sizing me up with his small, beady eyes, which made me want to shrink down to the floor. He had the imitation factor down pat. “Follow me, and I’ll show you what Krav Maga is.”

I looked at Stefan for guidance, hoping he’d see the insecurity in my eyes and give me some kind of clue as to what he’d gotten me into, but he just smiled, ushering me to follow the instructor. I wanted to kick his ass for not explaining and allowing me to look like a jackass in the process. Instead, he yanked my arm to follow what’s his name. Oh, yeah…Rick. I rolled my eyes and chuckled to myself. What had I gotten myself into? Or better yet…what the fuck did
Stefan
get me into? I wanted to turn around and run back to the safety of my car. The only thing that stopped me was Stefan’s words of me not trusting him. I had to trust him, and I did. Staying here and following through with whatever he had in store for me would definitely prove that.

The entire floor of the room was covered in thick rubber mats, reminding me of the gymnastics classes my mom made me take when I was younger. Except this room was void of the primary colors and welcoming smiles. There weren’t TVs mounted on the walls, or music being piped into a sound system. Just mirrors, grey rubber mats, and the sounds of grunting people as they hit the ground. Hard.
Oh God, what the hell. I couldn’t do that!

“Krav Maga is the official fighting system of the Israeli military,” Rick explained as we walked further into the room.

I pulled Stefan’s arm, nearly yanking it out of the socket until I finally got his attention. Then I mouthed, “What the fuck?” To which he raised his eyebrow at me and mouthed back, “Trust me.” I knew it. This was a test. I glared at him and shook my head so he knew I didn’t like this idea as I discreetly searched for an exit.

Rick went on to explain the benefits and merits of Krav Maga, telling me it was a system unlike any other. “Uh huh,” I managed to get out between glaring at Stefan and trying to understand the words Rick spoke, which was hard considering the man’s thick accent.

“In an increasingly violent world, you are your last line of defense. Whether the threat comes from a mugger, rapist, or terrorist, your life could be at stake. Yes?” he asked, staring at me as he waited for my answer.

Shit, he wanted a response. So I politely nodded, hoping he believed the eagerness I tried to portray. When in all reality, the only thing I’d understood was that this was a self-defense class—Stefan wanted me to be able to defend myself.

“You must be prepared to do whatever it takes to survive. There are no rules on the street. Yes?”

I nodded again, almost ready to snap.
How many fucking times was he going to ask me “yes”?
I took in a deep breath, trying to gain courage at what I might face. These men that were training were throwing each other down hard. The grunts and groans making me grimace. I couldn’t do this. And I didn’t want to do this.

“This is contact-combat and is the most effective, practical, and holistic fighting system in the world. Krav Maga will condition your body, mind, and soul. By the end of this twelve-week program, you will be able to instinctively defend against strikes from every angle. Be able to release from grabs, hair pulls, and chokes. Again…every angle. Be consciously aware of your surroundings, safety, and impending danger, recognizing danger sooner so that you will be able to anticipate and ideally prevent the attack from happening.”

The only thing I heard Rick say was
twelve-week program
and that had me shaking me in my boots. I couldn’t imagine one session let alone twelve weeks.

“Today we will start, yes?” Rick asked, turning to Stefan before turning to me.

Stefan nodded and looked at me. “Jordana, you need this.
We
need this. I need to know that you have some way to protect yourself without having eyes on you twenty-four/seven. This is more than learning self-defense. It’s about your safety and awareness. You said you’re struggling, and I think it’s because you don’t feel safe. Am I right?”

Yes, he was right. So what argument did I have at the end of the day? I had nothing. I nodded in agreement, giving in. I could at least try this one session. Once I left I didn’t
have
to come back.

“You’re either the predator or the prey. Yes? Which do you choose?” Rick asked.

That was an easy question that didn’t take much thought. “Predator.”

“Let’s begin.” Rick moved to the center of the mat. He decided I would sit this one out so he and Stefan could demonstrate. Stefan was to play the part of assailant and advance on Rick. Stefan was physically fit and stood over six-feet tall. However, Rick had a good two inches on him in height and his muscle mass was impressive. Rick asked Stefan to come at him, and use any means necessary to get him on the ground. The next thing I knew, Stefan was on the mat with Rick firmly pressing against his chest, pinning him to the mat. I ran over to them and looked down, catching a dazed Stefan grinning up at me.

He eventually got to his feet and returned to the practice line. “Wait!” I yelled out, my voice echoing and sounding foreign even to me. “Show me how you did that.”

Stefan moved to the wall, silently admiring me. The technique was simple. One move and…
bam!
Stefan had ended up on the mat. Here I thought this would be some sort of intense martial arts boot camp that takes weeks to learn anything of value. Wash on. Wash off. Mr. Miyagi type crap. But I could do this. It was genius, and in that moment, I wanted to learn everything Rick had to offer.

It took me three times before I got the maneuver right. Then it was time to move on to the next part of the training. He lent me gloves to wear until I got my own.

Punching the heavy bag that hung from the ceiling was my least favorite, and it made everything ache. I hit the fucking bag with my thighs, my arms, my legs, my hands, and even my head. With every kick or hit, I noticed something. I got stronger and hit with more self-assuredness. When Rick deemed that part of the lesson was over, my body felt like jelly but my entire viewpoint of Krav Maga had changed. When I’d punched that bag over and over again, I’d thought of Zeke and had run through every fucking thing he’d done to punish my body. At the end, I felt liberated.

In that one day, Krav Maga had already provided me with a confidence that I’d thought I’d lost after my week spent with Zeke. Even more than that, this new sport offered me peace of mind and would give me the ability to turn my body into a weapon. The training certainly wasn’t as easy as I thought, but it had already proven to be invaluable. It wasn’t only about strength, it also encompassed body language, facial expression, voice, and eye contact.

I’d grown up in a world where we kept our mouths closed. And now I’d been provided an outlet to purge all the demons that haunted me.

Rick had us wearing pads while punching and kicking so we didn’t injure each other. And he taught us that you find the most strength when you feel like you have nothing left to draw from. Sometimes, strength is produced directly from the mind.

I’d spent so much time on my appearance before meeting Stefan, and in the end, it was all a waste. Believe me when I say I wasn’t pretty when I left the gym. I was a sweaty mess. But, I was a
confident
, sweaty mess and to Stefan…a
beautiful
, sweaty mess.

I was on my way to becoming a female warrior…

I had so much I needed to know, that only Stefan could tell me, but after he’d accused me of not trusting him, I couldn’t very well start prying and second-guessing his motives and actions. I had to play it smart. And playing it smart meant I had to shut my mouth and find another way of getting answers.

I had picked at the same piece of provolone for the last ten minutes while waiting for Matteo to grace me with his presence. He was reluctant to meet at first, but he finally gave in, knowing I wouldn’t put up with his bullshit. He knew me, and he knew I’d have something to say about his behavior. Matty never appreciated my lectures, but without a mother, I was the only one to give them to him. Like the rest of the men in my family, they assumed me ignorant and blind. At least Stefan saw me for me—most of the time.

Not one to throw himself on his own sword even for the sake of family…Matteo needed a nudge only an older sister could give. Well, more like a threat. Those I was good at, and with all he’s put this family through, he could use a proper reaming out by his sister.

Someone brushed up against me, causing a near homicidal knee-jerk reaction. I spun on my heels and came face to face with the short waiter who had two dirty martinis on a tray in his hand.

“Ma’am.” His voice shook as I eyeballed him.

I didn’t respond, but removed a glass from his tray while maintaining a steady glare until he left. Fuck, I needed some alcohol. The first sip burned like hell at first until the heat was distributed evenly from head to toe, the saltiness of the olive juice drying up the nerves that riddled my body. I hated how jumpy I’d become. No matter how hard I tried to stay calm and have normal reactions, I couldn’t seem to keep my heart from lodging itself into my throat when taken by surprise.