Faking It To Survive
Chapter 3

Rose

My heart pounds faster with every step I take. Adrenaline courses through my veins and gives me more energy to keep running. I keep my earpiece on, even though I don’t have any music playing. It helps me avoid getting into conversations with strangers.

I let my thoughts wander as I run. I keep on running and never stop. It’s the only way I can get away from him.

My phone dings at that moment, but I don’t need to look at it to know it’s the same daily email.

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

I wish I was stronger. I should have ended him the first time I ran away from him, but I wasn’t strong enough back then.

If I had ended him then, I wouldn’t have to constantly look over my shoulder every time I step out of my apartment. I would be confident that those hands would never touch me again, and I would never have to set eyes on him again.

I run faster and focus on the sound of my sneakers hitting the sidewalk. That sound comforts me. And I don’t stop until I get all the way back in front of my apartment building.

I lean forward and prop my hands on my knees to catch my breath before I walk into the building and grab the water bottle I leave by the door whenever I go running.

I gulp it down then take off up the stairs to the fifth floor. It’s an old building, getting dangerously close to falling apart, so there’s no elevator. I don’t mind the walk up the stairs, though. It’s just another workout, and I can always use another one of those.

“Hey, Rose,” someone calls from my right, and I forget for a second that I’m supposed to be listening to music. I glance in that direction and come face-to-face with my neighbor, Lisa. She’s already smiling at me, so it’s too late to pretend I didn’t hear her.

“Hey,” I reply and force a smile.

“Listen, a bunch of us are going over to Gigi and Fred’s apartment later for their baby shower. You should come. It would be a great way to spend some time with you, and you could get to know the others.” She grabs my hand and stares up at me with wide, pleading eyes.

I clear my throat with difficulty and try to be gentle when I pull my hand out of her grasp. Her touch makes me cringe, and I can’t help noticing the hurt in her eyes, even though she tries to blink it away as quickly as possible.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to make it. I have work …” I hedge.

“Oh, come on! You only go to the gym in the morning and the diner late at night. The shower is in the afternoon. You can make some time, can’t you?”

I try not to get alarmed that she knows my everyday schedule. She better not be stalking me.

I only have to take one look at her physique to know she could never pose a threat to me. She also has a clear, thick New York accent, so there’s no way she could have ever met him.

Plus, to be honest, my days are pretty much the same since I moved here eight months ago. I go for a run in the morning, head to the gym after that, and then stay holed up in my apartment all afternoon until it’s time for my shift at the diner. Only rarely do I head to the bar around the corner. Even then, I sit by myself and drink while I watch other people go about their lives.

What is the point of making friends when I don’t trust anyone? He could replace me at any time, and then I’d have to run again. I would have to leave everything and everyone I know and care about behind. My life is already a mess. It wouldn’t be fair to drag someone else into that. He’ll make sure I regret it if I do.

I have to make up a lie to get Lisa off my case. “I got a new job, so I’ll be gone all afternoon.”

“Oh …” Her face crumples, and I almost kick myself for hurting her. “Well, my door is always open if you ever want company.” She smiles and raises her hand like she might try to touch me again.

“Sure,” I reply and turn away, leaving her on the staircase.

I’m never going to take her up on that offer. It’s best for the both of us if I stay away from her and everyone else.

As I jog the rest of the way up to my apartment, I glance around, just to make sure the coast is clear, before I shove my key into the keyhole. As soon as I get inside, I throw all three locks before I feel safe enough to go take a shower.

My studio apartment is completely bare except for the large mattress on the floor, one rickety old plastic chair in front of a small TV, and a sturdy suitcase with all my clothes in it.

All I have in the sink are two plates and one mug with the inscription, “Mama’s Best Girl.” It seems like another world from when my mother gave me that mug. It was a world where everything made sense.

The extremely cold water from the shower hits me like a thousand drops of ice, but I don’t bother turning the hot water on. It hasn’t worked since I moved in.

I towel off and get dressed in a black tank top and tight, black yoga pants. I pull on my usual black sneakers and finish off my outfit with an oversized black jacket. Then I pull my hair up into a high ponytail before braiding the end and letting it dangle behind me. This look will ensure no guys get the idea that I’m trying to make myself attractive to them.

I head for the kitchen where empty pizza boxes and ramen noodle packages overflow the trash can. Another pizza box sits on the counter from last night, and when I open it, I replace only one lonely slice waiting for me. I pick it up and shove it in my mouth all in one bite. Then I leave the apartment and make a mental note to get something to eat at the café next to Travis James’s office building. If I’m going to be a good trainer, I need to fuel my energy with enough carbs.

I take the bus, ignoring the man in the opposite seat who keeps making eyes at me. In no time, I arrive at my destination, wolf down a large hamburger and a tall milkshake, and head for Travis’s agency.

I skip the receptionist this time, but I still feel her judgmental gaze following me toward the stairwell. I got a text from Travis the evening I signed the contract. “Ryan and I will be using the gym at the agency building for the time being. Apparently, Ryan Baker is caught in some scandal and has to lie low until everything cools down.”

The famous MMA fighter isn’t new to scandals. Every other New Yorker and MMA fan around the world has seen his face plastered all over the tabloids on several occasions. I don’t normally believe everything the media puts out there but, after meeting Ryan, I’m pretty sure he’s no different from the devil-may-care playboy the public makes him out to be.

I take the stairs down to the basement and replace the gym, but it looks nothing like the gym where I train. This one is huge and stocked with absolutely everything.

Travis stands near the door, his phone pressed to his ear. He raises a finger at me and silently mouths, “One minute,” without actually saying anything.

I nod and step around him to get inside.

A shirtless male stands with his back to me by the ring at the far corner of the gym. His blond hair falls carelessly to his shoulders, and he’s barefoot.

Ryan.

My heart rate quickens as I approach him. The muscles on his bare back bulge all the way down to his dark sweatpants. His shoulders flex as he wraps his wrist and hand. He then stiffens for a second and turns around, fixing those blue eyes on mine. He bursts into a huge smirk when he sees me.

“Look who’s back—my personal trainer.”

I can’t help my gaze from running down his ripped, shirtless body. His shoulders are wide—hulking even—and his chest is firm and toned.

My eyes stray to the chiseled eight-pack of his abdomen. I’ve seen plenty of muscular men before—it comes with the territory in my line of work—but none of them have come close to this. Ryan must have spent a lot of years making his body a fine-tuned fighting machine.

I look back up at his face to replace him leering at me with his head cocked to one side.

“Like what you see?” He winks. Wow, he really is full of himself.

I don’t let my cold, guarded expression slip. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just making sure my client is fit and can handle training.”

His smirk only gets broader. “So, what’s the verdict?” he asks, taking a long, quick step toward me.

I stiffen at his quick movement, but I stand my ground and run my gaze over his entire body once again. “You’ll do,” I reply then walk away toward the ring behind him.

I pull out two black leather gloves from my back pocket, slipping them on, as I duck into the ring. Turning around to replace him still watching me, I wrap my braided ponytail into a bun so it’s perfectly secured on top of my head. Then I take my place right in the middle of the ring and crook my finger at him. “Come on; let’s see what you can do.”

Ryan snorts and ducks under the ropes to enter the ring. “Are you sure you don’t just want me to pick up a few weights and run some laps?”

“Is that the kind of training you’ve been doing up until now, or are you just being a sexist pig again and assuming I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“I’m not being sexist. I just don’t think this is a fair fight. Scream equality all you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m a man and you’re a woman. I’m a lot bigger and heavier than you are. I wouldn’t want to bruise your fragile little body.”

Now it’s my turn to smirk, and his jaw drops when he sees my reaction. He stares at me for way too long before he shakes his head.

I bend at my knees, widen my stance to take a fighting position, and raise my fists in front of my face. “Go ahead then. Show me how much of a man you really are.”

Ryan huffs, props his hand on his h**s, and then walks away to put some distance between us. When he finally turns around, he spreads his legs wide and bends at the knees, smirking again when he raises his fists.

“Oh, and Ryan,” I tell him, “if you hold back, I’ll be mad.” I launch myself at him and that smirk fades away in an instant.