Craving Oblivion (New York Billionaires Book 3)

29| Fight

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Fight

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Chapter 29: Fight (Zarah's POV)

Humming mostly to myself, I continued unpacking my closet in the guest room of Logan's penthouse, utilizing my day off as much as I could. 

After landing back in New York last night, with the time we reached, I knew I wouldn't be able to go to work, so naturally, I planned to use my day to unpack instead. I hadn't seen Logan since last night once we reached the apartment. 

By the time I woke up this morning, he was out of the house with a note left on the refrigerator for me, letting me know that he had gone for a meeting and to make my own breakfast for once. 

That prick. 

Having the apartment to myself was nice for once. My priority was to sneak into Logan's study and snoop around, hoping to find something in any damn file about me. I wanted to know how much information he had gathered so far. But the asshole locked the room behind him. 

Sighing as I came back to my semi-unpacked closet, I stared at the stocked shelf as I sat on the carpeted floor, legs crossed under me. Exhaling, I stood up and turned to walk out, stumbling back and letting out a scream as I noticed Logan standing there silently, creeping up on me. "Oh, my God! What the hell is wrong with you?" I yelled, steadying myself against the doorframe. "How long have you been standing there?" 

"Long enough to conclude that you're a horrible singer, Ms. Romano," he said, watching me with his arms folded as he stood there, wearing a fitted full-sleeve black athletic t-shirt with gray joggers at the bottom. 

"When did you get back?" I exhaled, glaring at him before I pushed past him and moved on to the next box of my belongings. 

"Five minutes ago," he answered, stealing the pile of clothes out of my hands and dropping it back inside the box. "Get changed. Wear something athletic," he ordered. 

"Excuse me? What for?" I questioned. 

"You need to train." 

"For what?" I repeated. 

He stared at me blankly, waiting for me to piece it together. 

I did. But training to fight never made sense to me. I knew enough to get myself out of any dangerous situation. "Are you calling me fat, Mr. Markov?" I folded my arms across my chest. 

He rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. "It's important for you to know how to fight to some extent." 

"I do know how to fight to some extent. Enough to get myself out of the situation, isn't that the priority?" 

"It is. But every situation isn't some guy grabbing you on the street or in an isolated alleyway. There are worse possibilities that you need to prepare for." 

"And you're going to prepare me?" I asked, lifting a brow. 

"Indeed, I am," he replied. "There's a gym in the basement of the building."