The Body #2: Lucio and Janie

Chapter 9 (Ginevra/Janie): No Respect

Copyright © 2024 by GroveltoHEA

"You want to watch me go at a punching bag?" I asked Lucio after he told me to show him my moves.

His dark eyes watched me, his face impassive as it usually was. "I've seen enough of that for the last fifteen minutes. I came down here thinking I could teach you some self-defense moves, but something tells me my time might be wasted."

I decided to neither confirm nor deny his veiled accusation.

"Maybe we could spar, Ginevra," he offered after I said nothing.

This presented a dilemma. There was a world of difference between kicking the hell out of a punching bag and fighting an opponent. Right now, Lucio knew I was somewhat proficient at kickboxing, and he knew I wasn't clumsy. My takedown of him had been an incredibly foolish move on my part but he'd pissed me off like no one else ever had before in my life. He'd purposefully lunged at me to force my hand, to deliberately put me in a position of having to make a choice...and I'd taken the bait. My temper, which I normally controlled very carefully, had overridden my common sense and I'd happily inflicted some damage on the man. It was a little bit of payback for our wedding night, for him coming back into my life and for insisting we were actually married. The anger had been brewing inside of me for five years ever since our failed wedding night.

Ridiculous, really. He hadn't been wrong when he said we hadn't really known each other. It wasn't Lucio's fault that I'd built him up in my mind, made him out to be something he wasn't. Those stupid fantasies were all on me.

We didn't know each other, Ginevra. You can't say there was any love between us.

I hated to admit it, but that was true. He didn't have any love for me, but I'd certainly had a naïve, girlish love for him that wasn't based on anything substantial or real. Lucio was handsome, strong and intelligent; he was the ideal Body man the girls hoped for, powerful and commanding, but I was the one who would be his. If I perceived that giddiness as love, well, I wouldn't be the first young girl who made a prince out of a villain in my heart.

But the crimes he was guilty of, the crimes I could lay at his feet, were the ones where he deliberately hurt an eighteen-year-old girl. I'd just lost my father and he was determined to teach me a lesson I'd never forget. He brought his mistress into our home, said horrible, humiliating things to me and sent me to my room, dismissing me as if I were a child. 

And maybe the worst crime of all Lucio had committed was shattering my innocence and my girlish dreams. After Papa was killed, I'd had no one, and the thought of my wedding day helped me through those terrible weeks following his unexpected death. I'd have a husband, he'd give me babies, and then I'd have a family again. In essence, I would no longer be alone.

With a jolt, I realized the sparring question was still unanswered between us. "I don't want to spar," I said. 

Let him make of that what he would. Not that I didn't know how to spar, just that I didn't want to.

"So if you don't want to spar, maybe it's because you don't know any self defense moves and we need to work on those like I originally planned."

Why the hell wasn't he already at work? The Body didn't run itself. Suddenly, the man who was up at four in the morning and out the door by five fifteen had time to waste at home? This was bullshit.

"I'm not doing this, Lucio," I said, then when I tried to walk past him, he grabbed me from behind, his arms wrapping around me, and his chin was positioned so it held down my head, preventing me from throwing it back into his face.

I felt a chill of déjà vu dance down my spine as I thought of my recurring dream with the faceless man.

His arms went around me, his chin rested on top of my head, and just that quickly, he was surrounding me with his strength.