30. Chapter 30

30

I laria took in the large gym as she and Soren walked in and laughed under her breath. He wanted to teach her something, did he? It was one thing to show her how to shoot. Despite the one time she had gone to a shooting range, she hadn't learned much, especially since her date was just a novice as much as she was.

The directions Soren had given her actually made a difference. By the time she left, she felt halfway competent and prepared to defend herself, should she ever need to.

Now they were in her element: hand-to-hand combat. She had been taking a variety of martial arts and self-defense classes since she was a teenager, partly because her father insisted and partly because they made her feel strong and capable.

The utilitarian gym with its exposed metal beams and scuffed floors didn't win any points for style, but its size and wide range of equipment were the obvious draws for the growing crowd. "Let's take this ring," Soren said, pointing to one that had just opened up.

Ilaria's tank top and leggings were too much for what they were about to do, but she was prepared. She stripped off her outer layers to reveal fitted shorts and a sports bra. She rifled through her gym bag and pulled out her headgear and gloves, glad she had brought them along.

Soren had already pulled on a pair of practice mitts and was standing in the middle of the ring. His eyes darkened for a brief second when she climbed in, scanning her from head to toe. But he blinked, back to business.

"I know you've taken lessons for a while, so you probably know the basics," he acknowledged. "So let's see what you've got."

Ilaria warmed up with some light punching and kicks. Soren didn't correct her on form, but she knew she was good, having worked with her muay thai instructor for a few years. When she started to sweat, she upped her speed and power, first throwing a series of cross punches and then hooks.

But kicks were her favorite. She went through rounds of low, roundhouse, switch, and high head kicks, feeling the rhythm.

She was sweating profusely now. The worry, anxiety, and fear were peeling off her in layers, one kick at a time. No one was going to take anything more from her. Her family. Her business. Her self-worth. Her basic feeling of security. Nothing else.

Ilaria was so focused on the targets that even Soren faded into the background. She let loose a spinning heel kick so hard that Soren released a grunt. He was sweating almost as much as she was.

She huffed a laugh and backed away, reaching down for her water bottle to take a swig.

Soren watched her as he slowly stripped off the practice mitts, his eyes alert. "Now let's pretend I'm an attacker."

"Are you sure?" Even a light kick would hurt like hell.

He nodded. "I want to see how you would react. Just…dial back the power." His lips twitched up slightly. He put on his headgear.

She nodded slowly, taking off her own gloves.

"Stand here." He positioned her in the middle of the ring. "Your objective is to get away, okay? I'll be coming up behind you."

Before Ilaria could acknowledge what he said, Soren grabbed her from behind, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and picking her up off the ground.

Adrenaline rushed through her, her body feeling danger, even while her mind said she was safe. Her arms were trapped. She twisted her body to loosen herself but his arms were too tight.

Her legs were free, though, waving in the air. Ilaria lifted her right leg and brought her heel down on his thigh. Soren stumbled, arms loosening around her. She wound up her arm and sent a sharp elbow into his solar plexus. With a grunt, he doubled over, and she turned to face him and slashed an elbow down onto his padded headgear.

Soren landed on his back on the floor of the ring, panting.

Ilaria knelt over him, peering into his face. "You're not that hurt, are you?" she asked in a dry tone. "I pulled my punches."

He huffed a laugh, his eyes meeting hers. "I might get a bruise or two." He studied her face. "In a real fight, throw everything you've got into those hits."

"In a real fight, I would have done a head kick that would knock someone out."

"Good." His breathing slowed.

Suddenly, he surged upright, pushed her onto her back, and pinned her arms above her head, covering her body with his. "Tell me how you'd get out of this one." Challenge and something else glinted in his eyes.

Ilaria heard catcalls and whistles around them.

The initial alarm in her eyes was quickly replaced by a wicked gleam. "You mean…" She moved her knee slightly.

"Only if you want to kill me," Soren breathed. "Just tell me how you'd get free."

The predatory look on his face made her catch her breath.

"Well, maybe I'd do this—" She jerked her hips upward, and his eyes darkened. "—to get a better position. Use the heel of my feet on his legs. And then knee him in the groin." She brought her knee up slowly to demonstrate.

"Or more likely, I'd do this." She wrapped her right foot around his left, then pushed off her left foot and flipped him over, with her on top.

More laughter and catcalls from the rest of the gym.

Soren's face showed surprise.

"Then—" She made a slashing elbow motion to his head. "—to knock him out."

A slow smile spread across his face, along with something that looked like pride. "I wouldn't want to be the dumbass who attacks you."

Ilaria snorted. "No, you wouldn't." She made a move to get up, but his hands tightened on her hips, holding her in place. His eyes glowed, and she felt an unmistakable hardening below where she was positioned. "Wait," he said through gritted teeth.

Her eyes widened, heartbeat quickening. A quick move tore off her headgear, which was suddenly too constricting. "I don't think this is the time or the place," she said in a low voice, looking down at him. Her hands were on the floor on either side of his head.

His hands pulled her hips slightly forward, then back, rubbing them both through their clothes. She inhaled a sharp breath, relishing the feel of him, her panties soaking. But she was acutely aware they had an audience, and if she didn't get up now, she would come in a crowded gym.

Soren groaned under his breath. Then he grimaced and sat up, lifting her away from him. She quickly got to her feet, feeling slightly disappointed.

As she turned to the ropes to climb down, Soren caught her wrist and pulled her toward him. "That was just a preview of what's to come," he whispered into her ear. Then he gave her a quick, hard kiss on the mouth. "Now go shower. I'm taking you to dinner."

Ilaria walked back to the locker room, peeling off her sweaty clothes. She took the coldest shower she could stand.

She had really needed that workout. She felt lighter, having shed most of the stress off in her punches and kicks. And sparring with Soren…well, she felt alive. Maybe too alive, if that was possible. She didn't know what he meant by cooking her breakfast, or "a preview of what's to come", or that quick kiss. She had made assumptions in the past and had made an ass of herself.

So she just needed to keep her cool and keep her hands to herself.

After she constrained the fire in her blood to a dull roar, she donned jeans and a comfy sweatshirt, pulled her damp hair into a loose bun, and went to the gym entrance to wait for Soren.

Every pair of eyes—female and male—in the place swung to Soren when he came out of the locker room in another simple black T-shirt and jeans. The T-shirt stretched tight across his shoulders and chest, tapering down his washboard stomach. His jeans showed off his tight ass, even more than it did last night at the bar. Every woman watched his butt as he walked.

And he seemed immune to all of it. Ilaria shook her head, bemused, wondering how anyone could look so pretty and be so unaffected.

Soren's eyes met hers, questioning, as they walked outside. "What's so funny?"

"How do you look like… that and not notice people staring at you?" She looked at him sideways.

Soren opened the trunk of the car for their bags. "What do I look like?"

Ilaria heaved a sigh. "You know, like that." She gestured in his general direction, now wishing she hadn't brought up the subject.

They got into the car. He turned to look at her. "You're going to have to be specific."

She rolled her eyes. "Come on, you're making me spell it out? You know you're…good looking. But you don't even notice when other people stare."

He tilted his head at her. "You think I'm good looking?"

"Never mind, let's drop the subject." She deliberately looked straight ahead.

Soren went silent. She finally turned her head to find a smile playing on his lips.

"I notice," he said. "I just don't care. Right now, I only care about one person's opinion."

"Whose?"

"Yours."

***

"Are you hungry?"

"Starving." After a few hours at the shooting range, and another few hours at the gym, Ilaria's stomach was rumbling.

"Good," Soren said as he pulled into the parking lot big enough for only six spots. "I've been wanting to try this place."

"This place" was a tiny Mediterranean restaurant on a quiet street, a blink-and-you-miss-it kind of place. The inside was decorated in blue and white tile on the walls, wood floors in a parquet pattern, a large stone oven behind the bar, three family-sized tables and a handful of smaller, more intimate tables.

Only a few other couples were seated. Soren gave the hostess a smile, making her stutter, and asked for a smaller table at the back of the restaurant.

"Let me know if there's anything specific you'd like to drink and eat," Soren said as they sat down.

Ilaria blinked at him, not understanding. Then it dawned on her. "Oh, so you can order for me? You know, we don't do that here in the States. The women here like to speak for themselves."

Amusement passed over his face. "I just thought we'd order a family platter to share, and I wanted to have what you wanted. Since I'm not picky."

"Oh." She smiled sheepishly. "I'm partial to beef or lamb."

"Me too."

The waitress stopped at their table with a pad and pen. "Are you ready to order?"

Soren motioned to Ilaria, who had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. "Can we start with the charred eggplant? Then we'll share the beef and lamb kebab family platter."

"Anything to drink?"

"A glass of zinfandel for me," Ilaria said.

"Same for me," Soren added.

After the waitress was out of earshot, Ilaria narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm sure you do frequently order for your dates. Not that this is a date."

His blue-gray eyes danced. "Only if they don't insist on speaking for themselves. And no, this is not a date."

She shrugged. "Oh well, whatever floats their boat."

He leaned forward. "Do you ever let your dates order for you?"

She also leaned forward. "I'd only let someone I trust completely order for me, because he knows what I want. And my dates don't know me."

"Do you let them get to know you?" Soren asked, a little too observant.

"If I feel like it." A vague answer.

The waitress came with their wine and appetizer.

Soren lifted his glass. "To you," he toasted her, "for kicking my ass."

She laughed. "You probably let me."

"Only partly. I didn't want to get kicked in the head."

Ilaria took a sip and sighed. If she let herself, she could fool herself into pretending that she and Soren were on a romantic date in a charming Mediterranean restaurant. And that neither of them had any major obligations to their families. And that she didn't have a psycho uncle who was either building a weapon or creating an illegal drug.

She blinked. Guess not everyone could have what they wanted.

Soren was watching her. "Where'd you go?" he asked quietly.

"It's not important. How do you like the eggplant?" she asked, changing the subject. She spread the eggplant on a piece of bread and took a bite.

He watched her but didn't push. "So, tell me, when you were a little girl, what did you dream of being when you grew up?"

"You mean when I was five?" Ilaria gave a half smile and took another sip of wine. This Soren was pleasant to be with, and she was feeling relaxed. She wanted to let down her guard a little and live her fantasy. "I wanted to be what every other little girl wanted, to be Cinderella. To have a complete makeover at the flick of a wand. To be swept off my feet by a handsome prince and taken to a glamorous new life."

Soren was listening attentively.

"It was the kind of dream only young kids have, when reality and the shoulds and should nots don't get in the way." She looked down at the table, lost in thought. "Then when I turned seven, I got pulled into reality when my parents told me I was going to be the heir of the family, and that I was expected to take over the family business."

Ilaria put her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand. "From then on, every choice I made was to support my eventual role as head of the family."

The dinner platter arrived, and they ate in silence for a few minutes.

"This is so good," she remarked.

"Mm-hmm." Soren's mouth was too full to answer, so he nodded.

He swallowed. "Do you wish you had another choice?" Soren's gaze held hers.

She sighed. "I think…if you told me I had another choice, that I could set aside the family business, I—" She stopped. "I can't even legitimately comprehend another choice. I've lived with this one choice for almost my whole life, that there were no other options, that I can't consider anything else."

Soren chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. "I get it. In a way, it was easier because you didn't have to decide anything."

"Exactly." Why did it feel so reassuring that he understood her?

Ilaria took another bite, chewing silently. "Of course, I also expected my parents to be around a lot longer, so that I wouldn't be flung into this role before I felt fully ready." She shrugged. "I guess we can't have everything we want," she added lightly.

He wiped his fingers and leaned back in his chair. "You don't have to do that."

"Do what?"

"Shrug it off like it's inconsequential." His eyes were, once again, too observant.

The bite she just swallowed felt like a rock. She took another sip of wine, trying to loosen the tightness in her throat, glancing down at her plate. She looked up again, and his eyes were still on her, filled with—God, was that understanding? Compassion? Contempt, disdain from Soren MacGregor she could handle. But compassion? Compassion broke through walls.

And trying to keep rebuilding walls back up was so very tiring.

She let out a long exhale. "I'm afraid of screwing everything up and losing everything my father worked so hard for," she murmured.

"You won't," Soren said.

Ilaria's lips turned up at the corners. "Only Soren MacGregor can say that with such certainty." She tilted her chin up. "How do you say that with such certainty?"

He met her gaze for several beats. "If there's something I want, I make sure I get it. I know I don't have control over everything, but I do have influence over a lot. And I don't ever want to resign myself to accepting that things are completely out of my control, especially if they're important to me."

Was that what she was doing, resigning herself? So much of what had happened—was still happening—she would not have chosen. But didn't she have at least some control over what came next?

Ilaria pondered that briefly, but still feeling Soren's eyes on her, she broke out of her reverie. "Your turn. What did you want to be when you grew up?"

Soren gave her a wry look. "Nothing as glamorous as your dream. My mother died after Arick was born. I was seven. It became my job to look after my brothers and Niema. My father never made much money. So the extent of my wishes was for my family to have enough food on the table every night. Especially after my father got sick and could no longer work."

Her heart squeezed. She realized how privileged she had grown up, never once worrying about whether she would have enough to eat.

"Maybe I had the occasional dream about a life of luxury and having more money than I knew what to do with," he continued. "But most of the time, I just wanted to get a step up so that we didn't have to struggle for food every day." His eyes were a soft gray. He was merely recounting his memories, not seeking sympathy.

Ilaria could feel her throat tighten.

Soren lips twisted slightly. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you feel sorry for me."

She scoffed. "I could never feel sorry for you, Soren. If you hadn't had to struggle as a child, who knows how insufferable you'd be now."

He chuckled. "Oh, so insufferable. I'd be sick of myself."

"No doubt."

He looked at her, eyes soft with amusement. Her stomach flipped. She could get used to this Soren.

Ilaria folded her arms on the table. "It must have been quite a change to live with Galen, then."

Soren whooshed out a breath. "Night and day. We went from having nothing to living in excess. Just like in my grandest, most ridiculous dreams."

"So your dreams did come true."

"I didn't see it that way at first," he mused. "All of a sudden, I—We had so much to lose." He shook his head. "I spent a lot of sleepless nights worrying it would all come crashing down."

Ilaria tilted her head. She was starting to understand. "Is that why you seemed so…stiff when you first came to live with Galen?"

"That's a nicer way to say it," he acknowledged dryly. "I was definitely rigid. Trying to keep us all in line so that Galen would have no reason to send us back to our old life." He paused. "The only time I let myself relax a little was when you came to visit. Any shenanigans that Galen took issue with I could just blame it on you." His eyes sparkled.

She laughed. "Glad I could help." She crossed her legs under the table. "But now you've got the life you've always wanted. Your wildest dream has come true."

Soren nodded. "I feel really fortunate. So many people don't get such a drastic change in their fortunes." He looked down at the table. "In certain moments, though, I still feel like the poor kid pretending. I still wonder if I could lose it all."

"Like when?" she asked softly.

He squinted his eyes. "Like during times of chaos, when there's a lot happening that I can't control. Looking for your parents' killer, for example. Coming out here to Chicago."

Ilaria made a face. "I wish you had told me this earlier."

He shook his head. "It was still my choice to come out here."

She laid a hand lightly on his arm.

He looked down at it. "It's getting late," he said in a low voice. "I should get you home."

The drive back to Ilaria's condo was quiet. Her head was spinning. She had spent the last few years despising Soren, hating him. But this version of Soren she had never seen before, and she realized she could like him.

But only as friends. That's all they could ever be. The kisses were just physical reactions; they meant nothing.

Her chest felt too tight. She wanted to get home and be alone.

Soren pulled into the garage of her condo building and parked.

Ilaria opened the car door. "You don't need to come up," she said as she slid out of the passenger seat. "Thank you for everything today."

"I know I don't need to come up, but I will anyway." He also got out of the car.

She knew there was no use arguing, so she bit her lip, wishing for the elevator to hurry. When it arrived at her floor, she sped out of the elevator and down the hall to her front door.

"Thanks again," she said as she unlocked the door. "Good night."

"Ilaria." She looked back at him. "Can I come in for a minute? I…need to say something." His expression was unreadable.

"Okay." She couldn't say no after the day they just had. She went inside first and turned on the lights in the living room.

Soren closed the door behind him and followed her. "When you were in Scotland a few years ago, and we…kissed, I was a real asshole."

Ilaria's breath caught.

"It was unforgivable. I don't have a lot of regrets in life, but I deeply regretted everything I said."

He ran his hand through his hair. For once, the unflappable Soren looked a little nervous. Then he took her hand and led her to the sofa to sit.

"I just want to explain why." Soren paused, formulating his words. "The truth is, I wanted to kiss you. Hell, I've wanted to kiss you since we were teenagers."

Ilaria's heart pounded.

"But my whole life is in Scotland," he continued. "And your life is here. I didn't want anything to…complicate all that I've worked for, everything I was planning. So I thought it would be easier if you hated me, and we could keep going our separate ways." He glanced at her, his expression pained. "That's why I was so cruel. I know I was a coward."

She was confused. "But I know your life was—is—in Scotland. Why would one kiss have changed any of that?" She paused. "Did you think I was going to fall in love with you or something? Ask you to move to Chicago?" She huffed a laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

Soren ran his hands through his hair again and didn't speak for a long moment. "It wasn't you falling in love with me I was afraid of."