Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Jasmine

I don’t even recognize myself or my life anymore. The breakfast with Liam’s parents was surreal. They treated me like I was a real guest. Like someone important. No one looked at me funny. No one looked down on me. It was great seeing Lia and Jonah again—it’s starting to feel like I have real friends, besides Liam. His parents were fantastic, and I like his brother Jake and those three little kids.

After we leave his parents’ house, Liam takes me shopping downtown. We stop at his favorite fitness store—Under Armour—and I buy several sets of workout clothes and a duffle bag to carry my stuff in. We go to Watertower Place, which is an amazing upscale shopping mall. I’ve heard of it, of course, but have never been here before. I make a stop in a jewelry store and splurge on a pair of gold hoop earrings. In another store, Liam talks me into letting him buy me a warm winter coat and a scarf.

After a couple hours of shopping, we walk around downtown, stroll along the river, and work up an appetite. We stop to eat lunch at a cute little sushi restaurant on Rush Street.

As we’re eating, I realize how much I enjoy spending time with Liam. Yes, he’s nice to look at, but it’s more than that. He’s kind and caring and thoughtful. He’s everything I could want in a man. The problem is, I just don’t know how long I’ll have him in my life. Once I get a job, I imagine he’ll expect me to move on and support myself. I’ll probably have to leave Chicago altogether because I won’t be able to afford to live here on my own, unless I get roommates.

When Monday rolls around, we have breakfast together and then head to Liam’s workplace. Just like he promised, he sets aside some time to work on drills with me.

“As I said, you need to build muscle memory,” he says. “Your body should react to a threat automatically, before you even consciously think about it. So, if you find yourself in another situation like what happened with Kat, you’ll respond instantly and with confidence. Now, let’s get started.”

Dressed in my new workout clothes—black boy shorts and a black tank top—we face off on one of the big floor mats.

“Let’s replicate what happened Friday night with Kat. I’ll be Kat.” He steps forward and grabs my wrist. “What do you do?”

“Grasp your wrist with my other hand, then pivot my hips and twist your wrist at the same time.”

“Right. Now, show me.”

I follow through with the designated steps, twisting his wrist and forcing him to let go of me. Then I jump back.

“Good,” Liam says. “Now we do it twenty more times. And then another twenty and another until you can do it in your sleep.”

He wasn’t kidding. We repeat the same move over and over again.

“That was excellent,” Liam says when we take a break. “How about some lunch before Lia comes to get you?”

“Good. I’m starving.”

Liam reaches out without warning and grabs my wrist tight. I twist his wrist, forcing him to release me.

“See?” he says. “Over time, it becomes second nature. You’re already getting there.”

“Liam?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He smiles. “You don’t need to thank me, Jasmine. Not ever.”

The way he’s looking at me makes my belly flutter. There’s so much intensity and emotion in his dark eyes. My skin tightens, and I feel a flush of heat sweeping through me, settling low in my belly. God, how I wish things could be different between us. How I wish I was just another girl, a normal girl, he just happened to meet.

We run downstairs to the cafeteria on the first floor to grab a quick lunch. There are several self-serve stations where you can grab sandwiches, burgers, or pizza. There’s both a taco bar and a pasta bar where you can make your own meals. Or you can go through the line and pick from the entrees and sides of the day.

“How about pizza?” he asks me as we walk into the cafeteria.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“I’ll grab our food. Why don’t you get us a table?”

I find an available table and wait for Liam. He joins me soon after, setting a tray on our table. On the tray are two slices of pepperoni pizza for him, and two slices of veggie for me. He then sets down a shaker of red pepper flakes by my plate and a bottle of sparkling water.

He didn’t even have to ask me what I wanted—he just knew. The veggie pizza, the red pepper flakes, and the sparkling water.

“Thanks,” I tell him, kind of reeling from the realization that he knows what I like. My preferences. He knows me.

Near the end of our meal, a tall, handsome black guy with short, twisted dreadlocks walks up to our table and pats Liam on the back. “Hey, mon, how’s it going?” He has an accent, something Caribbean, I think.

Liam looks up at the guy and smiles. “Mateo! Good. How are you, man?”

The guy nods. “I can’t complain. May I join you?” he says as he sits in one of the available chairs at our table. He reaches across the table to offer me his hand, and after a brief hesitation, I shake it. “I’m Mateo,” he says. “You must be new here. I definitely would have remembered seeing you before.”

“Jasmine,” I say. I glance to Liam for a second before turning my attention back to Mateo. “Yes, I’m new.”

Mateo nods. “Where do you work? Personal protection? Surveillance? Or are you in administration?”

“She works with me,” Liam says. “She’s my assistant.”

“Really?” Mateo says, grinning. He smacks Liam on the shoulder. “You have an assistant now?”

Mateo has a pretty smile. His skin is warm brown, and his dark eyes practically sparkle when he smiles.

“I like your accent,” I say, wondering where he’s from.

“It’s Jamaican,” he replies. “Born and raised in Kingston. So, Jasmine, what time do you get off work? Maybe I—”

“No,” Liam says abruptly, his voice uncharacteristically sharp. “She’s just leaving. She spends her afternoons off-site in training with Lia.”

Mateo’s eyes widen. “In training? That’s cool. If you ever need a sparring partner—”

“Nope,” Liam says, cutting him off again. “We’ve got it covered. But thanks anyway.”

Mateo stares at Liam for a moment, and Liam stares right back. I get the feeling there’s a lot of silent male communication going on.

Finally, Mateo nods. “Right. Gotcha, buddy. No problem.” He stands and pats Liam on the shoulder. “Well, I gotta run. I’m sure I’ll see you two later.” And then he winks at me before he walks away.

“Sorry about that,” Liam says when we’re alone again. “Guys shouldn’t be hitting on you like that.”

But I don’t mind. It’s one of the most flattering things that’s happened to me in a very long time.

* * *

Lia arrives at one o’clock to pick me up and take me back to her house. “So, how’d it go today?”

“Good. Liam practiced breaking a wrist hold with me. After that we had lunch in the cafeteria. Hey, do you know a guy named Mateo?”

She chuckles. “I sure do. Why?”

I shrug. “No reason. I met him in the cafeteria today. He sat with us for a little while. When he found out I was in training, he offered to be my sparring partner, but Liam said no.”

Lia grins. “He said no, did he? Isn’t that interesting?”

Lia doesn’t say any more about it, and I don’t bring up the subject again. We arrive at her house and go straight to the workout room in the lower level, next to Jonah’s sound studio. I wave at Jonah through a big picture window, and he waves back. He’s seated on a stool, holding his guitar, and writing notes on a pad of paper propped up in front of him on a music stand.

“He’s in the middle of writing a new song,” Lia says. “He’ll be in there for hours.”

“What’s it like to be married to a famous rock star?”

She shrugs. “He’s just Jonah to me. I mean, I know he’s a big deal—I’m the one who fights off his legion of female admirers every time we step foot outside this community. But here at home, he’s honestly just a regular guy. He makes me pancakes for breakfast, takes out the trash, and gives me back rubs before bed. He’s kind of perfect.”

I smile. “That must be nice,” I say wistfully.

“You’ll find that one day. I know you will.”

“I doubt it.”

“Why?”

“Why would a nice guy want to be with someone like me? I mean, if he knew about my past.”

Lia scoffs. “Someone like you? You mean someone strong and resilient and beautiful?” She laughs. “Yeah, who wouldn’t want that?”

“You know what I mean. As soon as they learn I was a ho, they’ll run away screaming.”

“Then don’t tell them.”

“It’s not something I can hide.” When she looks at me funny, I say, “I have… scars. Lots of them. From knife wounds, a bullet wound, and other various marks that won’t ever come off. They’re going to ask how I got them.”

“Hey,” Lia says. “If they don’t accept you for the amazing person you are, they don’t deserve you. Fuck ‘em. Not literally. You know what I mean.”