Faking It To Survive
Chapter 1

Rose

My phone pings, and that foreboding sense of danger hits me, but I know what it says even without checking the email. It’s always the same message sent at the same time. Every. Single. Day.

I’m going to replace you, Rose. I’m gonna make you wish you never left.

I try not to let the incessant emails get to me, but the little girl who barely managed to escape that hell still cringes with terror.

I’ve spent all my resources making sure he doesn’t replace me. Even if he does, I’ve spent years training and preparing myself so I’m able to defend myself if it ever comes down to that. I made myself a promise when I ran away that I would never be at the mercy of any man ever again. And I would rather die than let another man touch me without my consent.

I suck in a deep breath and steel myself, like I do every day when I receive the scheduled email. I could block the sender, but a part of me doesn’t want to. That email is a daily reminder to never relax, to never let my guard down. I always have to keep looking over my shoulder. I can never trust anyone, and I can never have a life.

I plaster on my professional smile as I approach the receptionist at the agency building. “I’m Rose Bloom,” I tell her. “I have an appointment with Travis James.”

She wrinkles her nose at my black tank top, black sweatpants, black sneakers, and tightly pulled-back dark hair, but I don’t care. It isn’t the first time I’ve gotten this kind of reaction from people, and I’m certain it won’t be the last.

She barely looks at me when she waves me away. “Take the elevator to the fourth floor. Mr. James is expecting you.”

I walk to the elevator and take it to the fourth floor. When I get there, I open the only door and run into a wall. However, it takes me a second to realize it isn’t a wall. It’s the rock-solid form of famous MMA fighter, Ryan Baker, also known as my potential client.

I’ve only ever seen him on TV. He looks different in person. He looks better. His messy blond hair sweeps to his shoulders, and he has the most piercing blue eyes I’ve ever seen. He’s dressed casually in a gray sweatshirt and sweatpants, and he’s built like solid granite.

A grin plays at the corner of his lips as he looks me up and down. He knows exactly how attractive he is, and he wants me and everyone else to notice, too.

“Well, who do we have here?” His deep, sultry voice reverberates into my bones, and I immediately hate him—just like I hate all men.

I don’t hide my disgust as I grimace at him, to which he raises one eyebrow and takes a step back. I resist the urge to smirk in triumph. His infamous charms won’t work on me. I’m probably the first woman he’s ever met who won’t melt at his feet.

“Miss Bloom,” a voice calls, and then someone steps out from behind Ryan.

I immediately recognize the brown-haired man dressed in an immaculate gray suit with his fingers adorned with several diamond rings.

Travis James grins and holds out his hand as he approaches me. “Thank you for meeting me.”

Tall, lean, and clean-shaven, Travis is an attractive man with a calm aura that puts me at ease. We met a week ago at the gym where I train and teach. For some reason, I didn’t feel on edge when he approached me, unlike the way I feel about other men.

When he heard that I’m an MMA trainer, he told me he might have a job for me, but I didn’t hear from him until two days ago. Of course, I did my research before coming here and found out that he’s Ryan Baker’s manager. If I agree to the terms and conditions of the job he’s offering, I’ll become Ryan’s personal trainer.

Travis shakes my hand then plants a k**s on the back of it. I do my best to ignore Ryan by staring at Travis as I suck in a breath and stiffen until he lets go.

Travis then waves me into his office. “Come in, Ms. Bloom. We’re delighted to have you.”

“I wanted to see if your offer was worth it,” I say as I follow him inside. I don’t let myself relax. Sitting down in one of the armchairs, I keep an eye on both men, just in case.

Travis sits down on a leather couch while Ryan remains standing. He leans against the wall, his blue eyes never leaving my face.

“Oh, trust me, Ms. Bloom; you are going to love working here.” Travis picks up a hardcover file from the table in front of him, flips it open, and starts to hand it to me, only to get interrupted by a loud snort from Ryan.

We both look over to replace him rolling his eyes and making a face.

My hackles rise, but Travis stays perfectly calm as he asks, “Is there a problem, Ryan?”

Ryan pushes himself off the wall. “Don’t tell me she’s going to be my new trainer. Her?” He snorts again, flops down on the couch opposite Travis, shoots another disgusted sneer in my direction, and laces his hands behind his head. “Give me a break!”

Now I really hate this sucker. I’ve dealt with men like him at the gym a million times. They’re always skeptical about me training them until I land them on their backsides. The ones at the clubs are even worse. They mistake me for a vulnerable woman and think they can treat me however they like until I show them what I’m capable of.

“Excuse me?” I snap, glaring straight into his eyes. “You don’t think I can train you?”

Ryan clenches his jaw then raises both hands. “Look, no offense, okay? I’m sure lots of women take self-defensive classes and all, but this is mixed martial arts. I need a professional trainer—someone who knows what they’re doing—and after what Rick did, I need someone who can come up with all new moves for me.”

Rick Snow was Ryan’s previous trainer, and everyone who knows anything knows exactly what he did.

Ryan Baker lost one of the first fights of his career. I watched the game while slurping down some ramen in my living room and instantly knew something was wrong. It was like Ryan was fighting his own shadow. His opponent, Khalid Khan, had a counterattack for every single one of Ryan’s moves. It went on and on until Ryan’s frustration got in the way and Khalid used it against him.

News spread the next morning that Rick had sold Ryan out by revealing all his moves to Khalid. Then Rick fled to Europe with the money. The MMA world took a hit with every fighter firing their trainers because no one wanted to go through what had happened to Ryan.

Travis sighs and presses his hand to his forehead. “What happened with Rick was my fault. I should have—”

“Do you always blame others for your failures?” I cut Travis off, keeping my glare on Ryan.

He jolts back in his seat. “What?”

“Your last match … you blame Rick when you were the one who lost.”

His expression changes in a heartbeat, and his eyes flash. Good. He’s getting mad.

“He leaked my moves to the other side. Of course I blame him.”

“He might have sold you out, but you were the one who lost that fight. You lost because of your own carelessness. Khalid only knew defensive moves to counter your attacks. You had all the advantage, but your head was too far up your own a*s to see it.”

Ryan jumps to his feet with a snarl and jabs his finger in my face. “You look here—”

“You relied too much on those moves, and when things got rough, you just gave up. You forgot you’re a fighter, and every fighter has to be able to think on their feet. But you didn’t. You let Khalid get the best of you. All you had to do was come up with a move neither he nor Rick would have seen coming. So, tell me, Ryan”—I drawl out his name nice and slow to make sure he gets the message loud and clear—“who are you going to blame for your failure—Rick or yourself?”

Ryan opens his mouth to speak but stops himself. He stares down at me, flaring his nostrils, but the anger in his eyes dies. He then stares at me like he’s seeing me for the first time and can’t quite figure me out.

No one in the room speaks for a minute. Then, all at once, Travis throws back his head and bursts out laughing and clapping.

Ryan and I whip around to stare at him, but Travis only wipes a tear from the corner of his eye.

“I told you she was incredible,” he tells Ryan. “And she can clearly put you in your place, which is a bonus.”

Ryan rolls his eyes, sinks back into his seat, and scowls at me. “I still don’t think she’s the right fit for me.”

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” Travis fires back then turns to me, grinning.

“Why don’t you look over the contract and let me know what you think? I’m willing to make adjustments … within reason, of course.” He hands me the file.

I scan through the documents, and my eyes bulge when I see the amount of money his agency is offering to pay me for training just one person. It’s ten times what I make training people at the gym and working part-time at the diner a few blocks away from my apartment.

Without hesitation, I pick up the pen from the table in front of me and sign at the bottom. Then I hand Travis the file and get to my feet.

Travis stands up, too, still grinning at me. Ryan stays in his seat, grinding his teeth and not looking at me.

“We can’t wait to have you on board, Ms. Bloom.” Travis extends his hand to me.

“Call me Rose,” I tell him, bracing myself before I shake his hand.

Skin-to-skin contact with men is always a challenge for me. It’s different when I’m training them because I know I’m in control. If anyone tries anything, I can easily overpower them. But it’s different with one-on-one interactions like this.

I can’t exactly avoid it now, so I wipe my sweaty palm on my pants and hold my breath for as long as the handshake lasts. I count to ten in my head before pulling my hand back.

Relief floods me now that it’s over.

I look up to replace Travis studying me with a curious expression. Did he notice me struggling through that handshake?

I mumble a quick, “Thank you,” and leave without another word.