Page 24 of Love and Lies

“With me? Forget it. Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t hit women. Especially not beginners.”

Sweet that he thought I was a beginner. “Even if their last name was Weston?” I asked, affecting curiosity. “Surely you’d make an exception then.”

Jessiah stopped, measuring me with his green eyes, as if making it clear I would never beat him.

On paper, he was right: at five eight, I was relatively tall for a woman, but still a good bit shorter than he was. And he wasn’t one of those super-ripped, pumped-up gym bros, but he was very athletic and much stronger than me. Not that that necessarily meant anything against someone with better technical ability.

“No,” he said finally, shaking his head. “No exceptions.”

“Shame,” I replied. “Could have been interesting. But if you want to act the gentleman so as not to embarrass yourself, be my guest.”

He gave a short laugh. “You think someone’s a gentleman for refusing to throw a punch at you? Wow. I never would have guessed the bar was so low on Park Avenue.”

I rolled my eyes; he was being deliberately obtuse. “Why don’t you just show me where the changing rooms are? Everything else I can manage by myself.”

“Forget it.” Jessiah shook his head. “If Demi finds out I haven’t taken care of you properly, she’ll be pissed. And no one wants to see Demi pissed.” He pointed to a dark-colored door in front of us. “The changing rooms and guest lockers are through there—the keys are in the lockers already. You can get changed; I’ll wait here.”

“Great,” I said darkly. If I didn’t want to admit to Demi that I already knew Jessiah—and how I knew him—it seemed I was going to have to play along. Though I wondered why he hadn’t given me away. Maybe he actually believed that I was using a fake name to hide from my parents and he was more amused by this than aggravated by our encounter at the award ceremony. He wasn’t far off the mark. But it wasn’t the only reason I wanted to stay under the radar.

Without giving him a second glance, I disappeared through the door and put my backpack down in front of a row of black varnished lockers. For a moment I considered deliberately taking my time, making the asshole wait, with the additional benefit of reducing the amount of time I’d have to spend in his company. But then I decided I’d rather just get it over with quickly, and I took off the clothes I’d put on over my workout gear, stuffed them in the compartment along with my backpack, and locked up. I made my way toward the door, vaguely hoping Jessiah might have left, but he was still there, hands in his pockets—and once again, for a moment, something in my body responded to him before my brain could kick in. Deep down, I’d always liked guys like him—self-confident, slightly cocky types, rough around the edges, who didn’t seem to care what anyone thought of them. Jessiah fell into that category one hundred percent. Luckily, one second later, I remembered his insults about my sister, and the feeling vanished as swiftly as though it had never been there in the first place.

“Ready,” I said.

“Good.” He nodded. “Let’s go.”

11 Jessiah

When the door opened again, I was expecting to see Helena in one of those getups that people like her wear to the gym—bright, expensive, and completely unsuitable for martial arts. But she surprised me. She came out of the changing area wearing black gym pants and a tight black top that crisscrossed in the back and ended just under the rib cage. My gaze wandered down to her toned stomach and the hip bones just visible over the top of her low-waisted pants, and for a moment I forgot what I was about to say. In an evening dress, Helena had been staggeringly beautiful, but dressed like this, she was just really freaking hot. It was undeniable—no matter her last name, or how snitty she could be.

“Ready,” she said, fixing me with the look—part irritation, part belligerence—that she’d worn since we’d met at the reception last week.

I nodded and took a breath. “Good. Let’s go.”

I’d only intended to have a go at a punching ball today, maybe do a couple of practice rounds with one of the other guys, but Demi had asked me to show a potential new member around the club as soon as I walked in the door—and Demi was a friend, so I’d agreed. How was I supposed to know that the potential new member was Valerie’s little sister, of all people, who’d clearly decided to act the bad girl and try martial arts. I’d have been less surprised to see the Queen of England walk through the door of Tough Rock than Helena Weston.

I hadn’t forgotten what she’d said about my not being there when Adam died—but I also hadn’t forgotten that furious spark in her eyes that exercised me in more ways than one. Maybe that was the reason I didn’t simply turn around and let her get on with it by herself.

“The training rooms are over here, separate ones for group classes and competition fighters… back there is the break room.” I pointed to a gray door at the end of the hall. “Over there is the storeroom, where you’ll find all the equipment you need for various kinds of martial arts. What did you sign up for?” Rafe taught different disciplines, so I couldn’t be sure.

“A class in none of your business,” Helena said, leaving me in no doubt that she didn’t want to talk. As if I wasn’t already aware. I mean, she’d made it abundantly clear what she thought of me the last time we met.

“Suit yourself.” I shrugged. “Did you know, by the way, that it’s illegal to enroll somewhere under a false name?”

I saw fear in Helena’s bright eyes for just a second. Then her pride returned. “Go on, then, blow the whistle on me. Maybe there’s a TV channel you can sell the story to.” She lowered her voice to imitate me: “I caught Helena Weston signing up to a gym with a fake name so she could hide the fact she’s learning Krav Maga for self-defense from her parents. Such a scandal.”

“That’s why you’re here?” I asked, skeptical. “Why do you want to learn self-defense? Just ask Daddy to get you a bodyguard. I’m sure you’d end up with a whole troupe of them just dying to take a bullet for you.”

There it was again, that ice-blue spark. “You ever think maybe that’s exactly what I don’t want?” The way she said it evoked some kind of response from deep within me. Just like the look in her eyes at the award ceremony. I pushed the feeling aside.

“So you want to shed your Upper East Side princess image?” I asked smugly, trying to cover up the fact that it had happened again. I didn’t want to feel anything of the sort. And certainly not for her. “How admirable… pretty pointless, though. What is it they say? You can take the girl out of Park Avenue, but you can’t take Park Avenue out of the girl?”

Her eyes narrowed. “So that’s what you think? That I’m a princess?”

“What else?” She was the daughter of one of the most powerful families in the city, lived in the most expensive building east of Central Park, and was the sister of a—if not the—former queen of New York City’s elite rich kids. At the thought of Valerie, I felt anger rising in me again. Only, just then, it didn’t extend to Helena.

“Well, it clearly didn’t stop you from following me out of the Rainbow Room.” She tilted her head to one side. “Why did you do that, anyway?”

“I had no idea who you were,” I said defensively.