safe in the wrong arms

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My mouth actually fell open. "No, I can't — I'm busy tonight."

"With what?" He held my eyes until I couldn't and looked away instead.

"Don't turn around. Tell me here." His voice had dropped low enough that I felt it more than heard it.

"I don't — I can't make it." I stared at the floor.

"Why?" His fingers found my chin and tilted it back up, gentle, unhurried, until I had no choice but to look at him. "Is it because you hate me?"

"No. I don't hate you."

"Then it's settled. I'm taking you to dinner tonight."

"But — okay. Fine. I'll go to dinner with you."

"Good. I'll pick you up at nine."

"No!" It came out louder than I meant it to.

"Why, you planning to stand me up?"

"No — no, I won't."

Feeling heated up, the words come out before I even realized.

"Anyways why do you even want to go to dinner in the first place?" I hadn't noticed how close I'd drifted until the words were already out.

"To discuss my results."

I swallowed my heart down.

"You could do that with Dr. King. The results go to you and your coach either way."

"But I also need you to prove you don't hate me."

"I don't hate you." His palm found the small of my back, and I realized, with a small jolt, that I was standing between his thighs, close enough that a few more inches would erase the space entirely.

I tried to step back. His hand at my spine simply guided me the other way.

I glanced at the door, silently begging it to open, praying Dr. King would walk through before this went any further and found us like this — and in the same breath, terrified he actually might, because I had no idea how I'd explain a position I hadn't been able to say no to.

"Mr. Vale, this is inappropriate."

"Call me Luca."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Do you have a boyfriend?" I shook my head before I could stop myself.

"Then you hate me."

"How many times do I have to say I don't hate you?"

"If you don't hate me, give me your number."

"But—"

"No buts." Both his hands settled at the small of my back, closing the last of the distance, and I was surrounded before I'd even decided whether I wanted to be.

My whole body felt like it was running a fever.

I knew I should pull away before Dr. King came back. That was the only thought I could hold onto clearly. But underneath the panic was something else, something I didn't have a name for yet — the strange, unfamiliar relief of not being the one steering for once. Every other man who'd ever wanted something from me, I'd had to manage, soften, redirect. Luca simply took what he wanted and left no room for me to overthink it, and for one dizzying second, I let myself stop fighting it and just felt his hands and his cologne and the warmth radiating off him.

"My number — take it down," I said, mostly to give us both something to do.

He didn't let go to grab his phone. He pulled me deeper into the embrace instead, one arm locked around my waist, and typed the digits over my shoulder as I called them out, his chest against my back the whole time.

I breathed out slowly once the last number left my mouth. Only then did he loosen his arms.

"Was that so hard, baby girl?"

I stepped back, face on fire, unable to look directly at him.

"Let's continue the test. We wouldn't want you getting fired now, would we?"

I nodded and reached for the band again, but my hands weren't steady anymore. The ghost of his arms stayed wrapped around me long after he'd actually let go, and every time my fingers brushed his leg for the next measurement, all I could think about was how it had felt to be held like that — deliberately, completely, like he'd already decided I was worth the trouble.

---

Dr. King came back a few minutes later to find us still working through the force plate readings.

"Still at it?"

"Sir, the thing is—"

"I was busy talking her ear off," Luca cut in smoothly, "trying to calm my nerves before the season starts. Don't blame her for the delay."

"It's fine, I get it," Dr. King said, waving it off. "I wasn't going to punish her over it. Isabella, you can head home for today, Luca — we'll pick up the rest tomorrow."

"Mr. Vale is done, Sir, no need to come back in." It felt like I was kicking him out.

"Here are his numbers." I handed over the tablet, and even though Luca had just covered for me, even though there was nothing to apologize for, the words came out anyway.

"I'm sorry it took a bit longer than usual, Sir."

Dr. King barely glanced up. "Your tests look good, Luca. See you next time."

"Likewise, bro."

He gave me one last flirtatious look before heading out.

I packed up slowly, replaying the apology in my head and hating how much better it made me feel to say it, whether it was warranted or not.

---

Luca was waiting outside the testing room when I stepped out.

"Thought I'd give you a ride home."

"No, thank you. I can get there on my own."

"Let me take you, so I know where to pick you up from tonight."

After everything that had already happened between us in that room, I didn't have much fight left. I couldn't afford him pulling the same stunt he pulled inside. I gave in.

The whole way to the car, I thought about the ways I could still get out of this — tell him to drop me somewhere else, give him the wrong street, tell him flatly I wasn't free tonight. Not because I hated him. Because I wasn't the kind of woman men like him kept around, and letting him get any closer to the reality of my life felt like handing him the reason to disappear on his own terms, the way Enric had.

I didn't say any of it.

The car wasn't what I expected. No screaming logo, no low, aggressive growl announcing itself from a block away — just a dark, understated sedan, the kind of car that could've belonged to any moderately successful businessman if you didn't know better. To my eyes, it barely registered as expensive at all. It was only once I was inside — the door closing with a soft, engineered click, the seats holding my body like they'd been shaped for it, the air smelling faintly of leather and something clean and expensive I couldn't name — that I understood I was wrong.

I sat with my hands folded in my lap the entire ride, spine straight, terrified to lean back too far into the seat, to touch the wrong panel, to leave a mark somewhere I couldn't see. Every small motion felt like a test I hadn't studied for. When my elbow brushed the door panel, I flinched like I'd set off an alarm.

Luca didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't say anything, just drove with one hand loose on the wheel like the car cost him nothing at all — which, I reminded myself, it probably hadn't.

The drive to my building took nearly an hour, most of it in silence, me answering in single words whenever he asked something, too aware of my own hands to trust my voice with anything longer.

He pulled up outside my building and I got out fast, murmuring a thank-you I wasn't sure he even heard.

"Nine," he called after me. "Don't forget."

---

I got home and collapsed onto the bed — not from the usual physical exhaustion, but a different kind, the kind that lived entirely in my head.

I thought about calling in sick.

I thought about pretending I wasn't home when he came.

I thought, with something close to relief, that once Luca actually saw where I lived, he'd realize I wasn't worth the trouble and just wouldn't show up at all. That would solve everything neatly, without me having to be the one who said no.

Then I remembered his hands on my waist. The small of my back. The few inches of space that hadn't existed between us.

I giggled into my pillow like an i***t, and my stomach did something it hadn't done in longer than I wanted to admit.

Just in case, I got dressed.

I pulled out the long sky-blue dress I'd worked three jobs at once to afford back in college, the one that actually fit the shape of me instead of just covering it, and paired it with the highest heels I owned — Luca stood well over six and a half feet, and I refused to spend the whole night craning my neck up at him.

By 8:45, there was nothing. No car outside. No text.

I sat on the edge of the bed in my dress and heels, and started letting myself believe he wasn't coming after all.