Marco
“Christine, what is all this on my desk?” I bellow from my office. I come from an Italian and Greek household, we weren’t a quiet family, and obviously some habits are hard to break.
Christine is one of the only two administrative assistants currently working at KMD Enterprises. She’s my assistant and doubles as a receptionist when the other girl, Savannah, is out. We moved into the offices last month and once this multimillion-dollar real estate project breaks ground, the offices are going to be filled. Right now things are in limbo until the building permits are issued. I have no idea what the fuck is taking so long with the infrastructure permits. It seems like the process is taking longer than usual.
“Liana was by this morning and asked to go into your office to leave some things on your desk. She wanted to do it herself. You know how she can be,” she says from the doorway.
I roll my eyes. “Yes, I know exactly how she can be, don’t worry about it. It’s fine. I’ll mention something to her and Steve. Are either of them here?”
“No, Liana said she was going to the newspaper and Steve said he’s meeting with a concrete company. Would you like some rocket fuel, Mr. Kastanopoulis?”
I laugh at her name for espresso. This is one habit I picked up from my parents and grandparents. I have a cup of espresso at the beginning of my workday, like they used to in one of those little white porcelain cups and saucers with the tiny spoons and a piece of lemon peel on the side. I forgo the lemon. Just give me some sugar.
“Yes, please, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Sure thing, it’ll just be a minute.”
I sit at my desk and get settled. As I leaf through the papers Liana left for me, a scowl begins to spread across not only my face but my mood as well. I pick up the phone to call her.
“Good morning, sir,” she answers on the first ring with that smooth voice she uses when she is trying to be sweet.
“Don’t call me that, Liana. What is all this you left for me?” I’m on the verge of getting very irritated with her.
“Now don’t be such a grump. Those are appearances, annoying maybe, but in this town these types of things are necessary. You want to seduce people, and being at those types of functions will help do that,” she tells me confidently.
“But emceeing at a Bid On a Date thing? Come on.” Is she serious?
She lets out a short laugh before saying, “Just be grateful you’re not the piece of meat that will be sold off, although from my meeting with them, that’s exactly what they would have preferred. They called me wanting you. It won’t be so bad, Marco. This year’s theme is Men of Service. You know, military men, firefighters, police officers.”
I let out a sigh and I have to agree with her. “I get it, all right. And what the hell is Sassy?”
She lets out a belly laugh and I can’t help but laugh with her.
“It’s a local prominent women’s magazine. Typically they just interview women but they’ve finagled some way to get you in there. My bet is so she can be alone with you. Now remember before you get all uptight, you will have commercial and residential units for sale. Women make up a large segment of business owners and homeowners. Just keep that in mind when she’s undressing you with her eyes,” she tells me and I can sense she’s really enjoying my apparent discomfort.
“It’s not going to be like that. I’m sure she’s a professional,” I reply, begrudgingly admitting to myself that Liana has some very valid points. “Okay, thanks, Liana, as usual nice work.”
“Oh, Marco, what about the Halloween event for UE? This is a very important function for you,” Liana adds in before I hang up the phone.
I feel a tug of annoyance because I would rather bring Elizabeth with me, then answer, “Yes, RSVP for me, you and Steve.”
“Excellent,” Liana replies smoothly, and I have the distinct feeling I hear a slight smugness in her tone.
“And, Liana, one more thing: please leave whatever you have for me with Christine if I’m not here. She is instructed not to let anyone in my office. Don’t put her in that position again. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Master, I’m sorry. I just like being in your personal space.”
“What did I tell you? Don’t call me that. You’re very good at your job. And that’s all this is, a working relationship.”
“Marco, I’m a professional but don’t ever forget what an asset it is having me on your side,” she purrs with a hint of her demure seductiveness.
This is the opportunistic woman I know so well.
“Believe me, I realize it. That’s why you’re here. Bye, Liana.”
I hang up before she can try to antagonize me any further but I can’t help and give her the credit she deserves. She might be a pain in my ass, but she’s very good at what she does, which is public relations and marketing.
Christine comes in with the little white cup filled with the thick black liquid from heaven.
“Here you go, Superman, get ready for lift off.”
Why do I surround myself with women who love to harass me? Maybe because Christine is adorable and very competent. And I’m a glutton for punishment, I’m sure.
Elizabeth
Getting to Evolution on Wrightsville Beach took me longer than I expected. When I walk through the door I am enveloped in hot, sexy, male testosterone. Where the hell have these guys been hiding in this town? Obviously nowhere I’ve been. But in reality I haven’t actually been anywhere for almost three years, unless it was in an office, grocery story, or movie location. And here I am surrounded by Wilmington, North Carolina’s most delectable male specimens. One question plagues me though: Do I let the secret out to the rest of the female population in our little city, or do I keep this treasure trove all to myself? I might tell just one or two special female friends, maybe even a couple of gay male ones too, just to be fair.
A man’s deep voice stops my ogling and I lift my jaw up from the floor.
“How can I help you today?” he says with a friendly and professional tone.
“Um, yes.” Yep, I’m a little flustered. “Could you tell me, does Evolution offer any classes or instruction for women?” I think they could teach us a few wonderful things.
“Yes we do, Miss…”
“Oh I’m Elizabeth DiStefano.” I extend my hand to shake his and he takes it in his big, calloused one.
“I’m Scott Edwards, it’s nice to meet—” He’s interrupted by someone shouting my name from across the studio.
“ELIZABETH!”
I turn and see one of the two hulks, the dark-haired one, who was in my apartment the day Santino showed up. The only thing I remember from that day is Santino had me in a choke-hold and I passed out as Marco was coming toward us. When I woke up, this man and another mixed martial arts fighter from Evolution had Santino pinned down on the floor, my door was broken in, and Mr. Jones, my landlord, was standing in the doorway looking flabbergasted. I was hoping I would run into one of them today. I’ve never been one for exercise classes, but I think being around men in this situation is better than being around women. He is closing the space between us with big steps that match his large frame, and he’s wearing a panty-melting smile from ear to ear.
“Hi, good to see you, Elizabeth. Marco mentioned you might be coming by today. How are you doing?”
Of course he did, I think to myself.
“Um, hi, and it’s good to see you too, under better circumstances. I don’t think I ever had an opportunity to thank you for everything that day. I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate everything you guys did.”
I catch a glimpse of Scott, the guy behind the desk who greeted me. His eyes are darting between this giant and me, mouth agape, looking totally confused.
“Please, don’t thank me. We were glad to help. I don’t think we were properly introduced. I’m John Wolfe.”
He holds out his big hand and I take it laughing lightly. “Elizabeth DiStefano.”
Scott cuts in
. “It appears you two know each other.”
John turns his head to him but keeps his slightly slanted eyes looking at me. I’m thinking he’s probably Native American Indian with the skin tone, dark eyes, high cheekbones and defined features, and the beautiful long black hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. I can see him sitting proudly on a beautiful black horse at the top of a mountain in suede leggings and bare chested, an Indian warrior, with his hair blowing in the breeze.
“Yes Scott, she’s a friend of Marco’s.”
“Oh, now I see.”
See what? I wonder.
“I’ll take care of her. What can I do for you today, Elizabeth?” he asks as he begins to lead me slowly through the studio.
John Wolfe is a bear of man, with a subtle confidence, radiating strength and control quietly but powerfully, and hints of underlying dark promises. I believe he does not take any prisoners but rather is offered sacrifices, who willingly beg to submit, down on their knees, for anything he would do to them.
“Well I wanted to find out what classes you have for women. Marco gave me the name of your place and told me you guys are MMA fighters.” I blush a little from the statement. I don’t know why, but to be perfectly honest it’s probably because I find the idea of these warriors to be sexy as hell. An image of Marco hot, sweaty and fighting sends a tremor through me.
He seems a little embarrassed, turning his face down to look at the floor as a shy smile plays at his lips. John is a contradiction packaged in his brawny frame. On one side he’s menacing, rakish, with a hint of primal sexuality. On the other side he’s gentle, kind, and a tad shy, with a trace of sadness. I can’t help but study him. He’s probably in his early thirties but carries himself very confidently as someone who has lived life and has dealt with its ugliness emerging scarred but immensely stronger. I know he’s got to be almost six and a half feet with a body built like a brick shit house, but he moves quite gracefully for such a big man. I think he still has a little of that wild little boy in him that this big, secure, kind-of-intimidating man takes out sometimes when he wants to play with his big boy toys. He’s wearing a gray gi but it’s different from the ones I’ve seen before. That’s more than likely due to the type of martial arts practiced here.
I survey the mirror-walled room. There are at least ten body-size punching bags lined up in a row. Fine specimens of men glistening with sweat are kicking, punching and round-housing on all the bags. Metallica is being pumped in to feed the aggression of the would-be warriors. On the other side of the room is an area with weights, a section with padded mats, a large cage which is, I’m sure, where they spar to practice for the MMA fights, and a couple of smaller rooms, where John is leading me.
“Well, of course we have kickboxing, Jiu Jitsu, which is the form of martial arts we teach that’s incorporated in the MMA, and boxing. But I think something you might be interested in that we’ve recently started offering is a women’s self-defense class. We’ve partnered with the Wrightsville Beach Police Department as a ‘safe communities’ initiative,” John informs me with a relaxed confidence. He knows his business and he takes it very seriously, and it shows.
His almond-shaped eyes turn toward me but their gaze have a puzzled look to them as if he’s contemplating something quietly to himself. Could he be remembering that afternoon in my apartment when Santino’s arm was wrapped around my neck? Is he imaging how that might have ended differently?
“That does sound very interesting. What’s covered in those classes and how often do they meet?”
I decide to let the look go and pretend it never happened. That is the past, and I have a feeling that John and I are going to become good friends.
“They’re given Monday and Wednesday nights at six o-clock for two months and we cover some boxing moves, Jiu Jitsu maneuvers, and a little kickboxing. It’s a mix that’s molded to give someone with a smaller frame the biggest advantage over an attacker. Guaranteed to take down even me if done right. It’s our job to make sure that every single woman will be able to protect herself,” he says quietly in all seriousness.
Yes, John is very sincere about what he does. I wonder what he must have seen or lived through that gave him the ghosts he lives with.
“And I’m assuming that it will help to build muscle tone, strength and stamina?” I ask, remembering why I initially came here.
I blush as my muscles give their little reminder of this morning’s pains from last night’s games. I can’t look John in the eye. I know he knows what I mean.
The corner of John’s mouth lifts in a half smirk. I can tell he’s trying to fight it but it’s too late. It’s already there.
“Yes it will,” he answers simply.
He definitely knows why I’m asking.
Trying to regain some sort of propriety—but I figure why bother at this point; he knows Marco—I ask, “Do I have to wait for the schedule to begin?”
“We are actually beginning a new schedule this coming Monday and we still have slots open. Brian and I will be taking turns teaching most of those classes. He was with me at your place that day,” he informs me to identify who Brian is. “Why don’t you come down on Monday, try it out, no charge, and see what you think?”
His large body is now fully turned facing me with his arms crossed in front of his chest and his feet spread apart. He is a very intimidating force, with an air of dominance and complete confidence and control. Much like Marco, but each of them is distinct. Marco is refined with hints of raw sexuality. John is primitive with a seductively dangerous heat. I’m sure he knows how formidable he can appear, but standing here talking to him I also get the impression he’s humble and is not the type of person to flaunt his strength, both his physical and his character. He doesn’t need to; it’s apparent.
“That sounds like a great idea. And I suppose I should wear something like yoga pants and a tee?” I ask, forcing my attention back to why I’m here.
“Yes, nothing loose fitting though. We don’t want you to get caught up in anything.”
My phone alerts me with a text. I’m sure it’s Marco as he already called the gym earlier to tell them I’d probably be coming, and I’m sure he’s wondering how things are going. I don’t bother to check it because I’ll be leaving in just a few minutes or else I’ll be late getting back to work. With all the time I lost because of the problems brought on with the situation with Santino, I don’t think I can afford to be careless.
“I’ll be here then, save me a spot,” I say smiling at him as I turn to walk back toward the front desk. I glance around the room and notice a lot of the men working out are looking at me. I take it they don’t get too many women in here during the day.
At the door I turn to face John and Scott, who is still sitting at the front desk working. Scott keeps his attention on whatever’s in front of him but I know he’s taking in our every move. Maybe that’s a trait of a good fighter, always knowing what’s happening around him.
“Take a card, I’ll put my cell number on it. Call me if you have any questions or problems.”
John grabs a pen off the desk and scribbles his number on a business card, then hands it to me. I slide it into my purse, remembering John is a good friend of Marco’s and the circumstances that initially brought us together. He came running without question when Marco and I were faced with danger. He’s offering me help if I should ever need it.
“Thank you John, that’s very thoughtful of you.”
“I look forward to seeing you in class, Elizabeth. Call me if you should have any questions.”
“Me too. Goodbye.” I extend my hand and we share a friendly handshake before I leave.
Once outside I finally take out my phone.
Still at the gym? Call me when you’re done, baby.
I hit the little phone icon, put the phone to my ear, and he picks it up on the first ring. I chuckle to myself wondering if maybe Marco was a little worried about me going to testosterone land all by myself.
“Hi, baby. Finish up at the gym?”
Do I hear a little concern in his voice?
“Yes, I just walked out. John was there and he helped me. He told me you let them know I might be coming by today.” It might be interesting to find out why he told them I might be stopping in.
“I wanted to make sure you were well taken care of. Did you find something you might like?” I try to decide if he means did I find any classes or another male. Men, always a contest of dicks pissing to mark their territory.
“Yes, they’ve just started a women’s self-defense program that lasts for a couple of months. I start on Monday. I might ask Janie and Elsie if they’d like to join as well.” Because I know they’d really appreciate the room full of built hotties grunting and sweating.
“That sounds like a great idea. Maybe you and I can drive there together and I can work out while you’re in class.”
The idea of watching Marco punching and sweating and being Neanderthal is really pretty sexy.
“I like the idea of that, Mr. Bond.” I wonder if he can hear the little seductive grin curving my lips as I picture him at the bag with his sleek body glistening with sweat and a wild, primitive look on his face.
“Watching me work out turns you on, Elizabeth.” His voice has taken on that low commanding tone he uses. He apparently heard my grin.
And my tone rises a little as my temperature does as well.
“Yes, a little.”
“Watching you kicking some big guy’s ass turns me on too, baby. I’ll be watching as well.”
How does he do this? He has me melting in thirty seconds.
“You’d better be watching me only, Mr. Bond, if you would like to keep your testicles. I’m sure you’re quite attached to them.”
He laughs hard at my threat.
“There is only you, love. And to make things a little more interesting, why don’t we test out your skills at the end of class, you and I at home.” I know he is insinuating something. Do I dare assume?
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