by Nana Prah
Training Gia
Nana Prah
Rose Gold Press, LLC
Chicago, Illinois
www.RoseGoldPress.com
Training Gia is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright @ 2020 by Nana Prah
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
No part of this work made be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior permission in writing from Rose Gold Press LLC, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-7354167-7-9
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Developmental Editor:
Rhonda Merwath
Rhonda Edits
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Copy Editor/Proofreading:
Paulette Nunlee
5-Star Proofing
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Cover Design:
Sherelle Green
Contents
Dear Reader
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Nana Prah
Ours Is A Story That Needs To Be Told
Training Gia
Gia Baxter never asked for a personal trainer, yet a former UFC champion is exactly what she got. Determined to make the best of it and shed the pounds she gained from stress eating, she dives into training. As they get to know each other, sparks between them become difficult to ignore and Gia's need to discover whatever Lamar is hiding grows stronger.
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For Lamar “Phantom” Pearce, Gia is the key to clearing his negative reputation, keeping his business from collapsing, and reaching his lifetime goal of opening a center for inner-city youth. All he needs to do is ensure that Gia completes the full six weeks of training. However, as their relationship deepens, he begins to wonder if his secrets will drive away the best thing to ever happen to him.
Dear Reader
A few years ago, I attended MMA (mixed martial arts) classes. I have a martial arts background so I thought it would be something I’d be great at. I lasted for all of two sessions, but came out of it with an MMA competitor as a personal trainer. This awesome man was my inspiration for Training Gia. With that said, please remember that this story is a work of fiction that portrays a whole lot of things that never happened (Even though I wish it had. *sniffle*).
Gia was a woman who needed help, but didn’t know how to ask for it. I’m sure we can all relate. She was being bullied at work. It turns out that bullying occurs a lot more often than we’d think, and to people we would never expect because we see them as strong. And they are strong, but bullies are assholes that tend to succeed for a while. Until they no longer do.
Enjoy Lamar and Gia’s romance. Please feel free to join my newsletter to get the latest information about my books https://www.nanaprah.com/newsletter-sign-up.
To everyone who is being bullied. May you find your power.
Chapter 1
Her sister’s inexhaustible need for control had brought Gia Baxter to a place she had avoided all her life. A gym. The thought of people taking notice of any part of her body made her wish for the ability to cast an invisibility spell and actually have it work for once. Especially now that she’d put on a few pounds. Who was she kidding? She could win a cut-me-a-bigger-slice-of-cake award for the amount of weight she’d gained in the past six months. It didn’t help that she and exercise went together like artichokes and cheesecake.
Trista’s whining had been a thousand times more insistent than normal when she’d dropped by for a visit that morning. Giving in to her sister had been the only way to shut her up.
It had cost her.
She’d had to tear herself away from the heavenly scent of a freshly baked strawberry rhubarb pie cooling in the kitchen. The decadent double vanilla ice cream with cashew brittle she’d top it off with couldn’t be excluded from the equation. She’d left food that would transport her into a state of nirvana only to find herself at the entrance of Hell.
The plan had been to drive to the Charles River, take a very short walk and then head back home so she could enjoy her homemade confection while vegetating on her beloved sofa.
Gia refused to budge when her sister opened the door to the gym and frigid air from the central air units blasting at hyper-speed filled her lungs. Not even the atmosphere wanted her to be there.
The drastic situation had her ready to pivot and sprint away from the massive building housing PCB Fitness. She grabbed Trista’s hand. “I’m outta here.”
Trista closed the door, turning to her with wide fake-eyelash-rimmed eyes. “I can’t watch you kill yourself anymore.”
Gia shuffled away from the shadow of the building into the spring sunlight. “Stop being dramatic. It’s a beautiful day. I promised to take a walk, so let’s go.”
“No, Gia. Whether you like it or not, you’re going into this building.”
Her younger sister had a control streak the size of Africa, Europe and Asia combined. Just because Trista ran a lifestyle vlog with millions of followers didn’t mean she could overpower her. At least not most of the time. She was putting her foot down. Something she hadn’t done enough of when it came to her life these past few months.
Gia lowered her head with a sigh in an attempt to gather patience with her little sister.
“I know you’re worried about me, but I’m fine. Even the doctor said so when I went for my annual physical last month.” She diverted her gaze to hide the blatant lie.
Hand on hip, Trista shook her head. “You mentioned that your blood sugar, cholesterol, and blood pressure were higher than they should be. That’s a triple threat.”
Damn her own inability to keep anything from Trista. “Not at a level where he had to put me on medication. All I have to do is watch what I eat and—”
“Which you haven’t been doing. I think you’ve gotten worse since you got the news. You do remember that uncle Harold was buried without his lower limbs because of his uncontrolled diabetes, right? Aunt Cynthia had a massive heart attack two years ago. She changed her life right around. It’s too bad that it had to happen in the first place. Mom and Dad have never given us much of their time, but it looks like they were generous with their disease-causing genes.”
She’d made some good points. Not enough to get her to stay, though. She’d work it all out herself. Being borderline didn’t mean that she had the conditions. Her doctor had merely suggested, not commanded, her to start exercising and eating better to prevent her from having to take medications. She’d be all right.
“Why are you taking chances with your life? Since you started that new position six months ago you’ve gained two dress s
izes and you have absolutely no energy.” Trista hiked in a breath and released it. “And you’ve changed. You aren’t the same vivacious woman you once were. Now all you want to do is stare at other people living on your flatscreen and eat.”
The teller of absolute truth had already relayed her opinion about Gia’s new state several times over the past few months. Yet now her eyes were filled with an earnestness that hadn’t been there during the previous lectures.
Gia laughed it off. “I’ve only gained thirty pounds. I can take it off like—” she snapped her fingers “—that. It’s no big deal. Besides, I like my fuller ass. At least now I actually have hips.”
Okay, so having that extra layer of fat and a displeasing array of stretch marks on her belly as if it had happened overnight wasn’t as delightful, not when it was affecting her health.
Trista stepped closer and held Gia’s hand between both of hers as tears glistened in her eyes. A sympathetic crier, Gia swallowed hard.
“You’re on a crash course to self-destruction. It scares me to think about what life would be like without you.” A tear tracked down her cheek. “I can’t lose you, Gia. I just can’t.”
The heartfelt plea blurred her vision with tears. Had her life gotten so bad that she’d decided to give up? Judging from Trista’s distress, she hadn’t done a good job of handling the pressure at work. But eating away her stress felt good. Much better than she was sure exercising would. Yet even as they stood there, she was tired. All she wanted was to take a squat on the concrete and rest.
Working out might kill her. But then again so would the path of gorging the baked goods she made as part of her self-therapy.
She had options. Quitting her job wasn’t one of them, not when she’d just gotten promoted to a position she’d been coveting for years. But she could at least not let it influence her physical health.
“Fine, I’ll do it. If only to get you to stop your damn sniffling.”
Trista’s smile showed off polished white teeth. “Great.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a compact mirror. “Let me check my face before we go in.”
With the layers of foundation and waterproof mascara the woman used, it would take a tsunami to alter her make-up.
“Perfect.”
Gia dragged her feet as they entered the building. The least she could do to ease her sister’s mind was endure a workout for the afternoon.
“By the way,” Trista said in her I-have-news-you-won’t-like-but-makes-me-wicked-happy chirpy voice. “I’ve arranged for you to have a personal trainer for the next six weeks.”
Gia dug her heels into the lobby floor and shook her head hard enough to make her dizzy.
“No, Trista. We just came here to work out. Today. I’ll…I’ll buy a treadmill and use it every day at home. Twice a day.”
“You and I know that’s a lie. You have absolutely no motivation when it comes to doing physical activity.”
“I’ll change.” Gia set her lips into the semblance of a pout that always seemed to get Trista what she wanted. “I promise. I’ll start roller-skating. I like that.”
“It’s too late, sis. I’ve already paid a hefty non-refundable deposit for this trainer and you will work with him.”
Sometimes she wondered who really held the title of older sibling.
Trista hooked her arm into Gia’s and tugged her to the receptionist’s desk a few feet away.
The man dressed in a tank top that showed off his impressive arm muscles smiled in a way that Gia could swear she heard a tinkle from the gleam of his teeth. “Hi. How can I help you?”
“Giana Baxter has an appointment with Lamar Pearce.”
He typed into his computer and assessed the screen. “Please have a seat. He’ll be out in a minute.”
Rather than settle into a padded metal chair like Trista who had started swiping on her phone as usual, Gia paced. She kept an eye on the front glass entrance as she planned her escape. The thought of exposing herself to a personal trainer made her guts spasm as if she’d gotten food poisoning.
Just as she was about to sidle towards freedom, footsteps fell in behind her.
“Giana Baxter?” A deep rumbling voice called out.
Goosebumps rose along her arms. Too late to make her getaway. She may have lost her backbone when it came to dealing with conflict at work, but she was no coward.
Drawing in a deep breath, she packed on a smile before turning towards the source.
“I’m—”
Magnetism incarnate stood before her. Raw, pure and completely overwhelming.
At five foot ten she wasn’t short in anyone’s eyes, but this magnificent male stood a head above her. His shoulders had to be twice the size of hers and his exposed arms and chest muscles in his form fitting gym logo T-shirt bulged.
The gorgeous, dark brown skin of his shaved head glistened from the gym’s lights. Deep set onyx eyes stared at her waiting for her to finish speaking.
She gulped, shoving away the desire to reach out and caress her fingers along the perfection of his body.
“Her.” Gia completed as she took in a nose that must have once been broken and set a tiny bit off kilter above full tantalizing lips. “I’m, um, her,” she repeated, ignoring her traitorous sister’s giggle. “And this is, Trista Baxter, my sister.”
He stepped closer and extended a hand. Gia looked at it wondering what he wanted her to do. And then common sense kicked in. She placed her hand into his to fulfill the basic social norm.
Palm to palm, a subtle, yet distinct, electric current eased its way up her arm and down her spine. If she didn’t have her head covered with a wretched scarf, each of her braids would probably stand on end. Warmth swirled its way around within her ribcage before settling low in her belly. She held her breath wanting the incredible sensation to never end.
He blinked and cleared his throat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Lamar Pearce.” He tugged his hand out of hers and offered it to Trista.
She could smell the testosterone oozing off of him. Funny how it smelled tempting enough for her to want to lick it from his skin. One step backwards kept her from making the worst first impression ever.
Gia flicked a desperate glance toward the glass doubling as an impediment to her liberation from eventual humiliation. The urge to dash through them overcame her again and just as she was about to bolt, Trista grabbed her wrist with her free hand and held tight.
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Pearce,” Trista offered with a grace that it was way too late for Gia to duplicate.
Her heart raced at the thought of being alone with a man who exuded so much power and confidence. If only she had more experience with hot Mr. Olympia type men, maybe she’d feel more comfortable with the prospect. Who was she kidding?
He intimidated her. Not like the guys she worked with who were just assholes on the best of days, though. This mountain of muscle held a stature that commanded respect. Something she’d desperately needed for the past few months. She could do with some now.
Gia threw her shoulders back and stood to her full height. There were more than enough people in her life who had crushed her self-esteem. Her boss and parents had made the top of the list. She wouldn’t allow anyone else to do so. Intentionally or not.
Chapter 2
Giana Baxter wasn’t what Lamar had expected. The photo he’d gotten with her profile hadn’t done her justice. He’d also been thrown off by the odd tingles that had teased his calloused palm when they’d touched. Her soft, warm hand had given him a solid grip indicating she had more confidence than he’d been led to believe she possessed.
Tall and well-padded at the hips. Proportional. A bit of muscle in the right places would add to her figure.
He focused on clear dark brown eyes that seemed to analyze him in return. The picture hadn’t lied about those large orbs that gave her a soft, innocent look. Her lush lips brought less professional thoughts to mind.
Unlike some of the other women who
trained at the gym, her face was devoid of makeup, even lip gloss. Pimples marked areas on her cheeks. At thirty-two years old, he hyped it up to the diet her sister had called atrocious when they’d met. They would clear right up with good nutrition leaving her russet brown skin glowing and healthy.
He’d forced a smile as he’d shaken Trista’s hand. The woman had trapped him into training Gia and her now smug grin enraged him. It certainly hadn’t been a pleasure to meet a second time, so he didn’t return the sentiment she’d spouted. Neither of them let on about their initial meeting when she’d sat in his office presenting an offer which she knew he and the gym couldn’t refuse.
An encounter he’d rather forget. Even he had heard of the lifestyle social media guru before they’d met. Who in Boston hadn’t? A fellow Bostonian who did her best to show off their proud city. Trista mostly presented posts about beauty, fitness and fashion, where she’d gotten her start. Things had blown up for her when she’d started shooting her videos at locations in Boston that not even some of the locals knew about.
Boston had always been on the map, but she’d put a microscope on it for the world to see and explore from a unique perspective.
Her social media presence was gold. Wherever her camera hit, people were sure to physically follow. The woman was honest in her opinions and her millions of viewers trusted her. She portrayed herself as charming, witty and compassionate. Lamar had experienced the ruthless aspect of her. A trait he would admire if it wasn’t aimed at him.
