“Good. You will help me with this rehab. Then I will be healed and able to train again to prepare for this final match.”

“Exactly.” She turned away, unable to face him, but masked her true feelings by looking around the room. The downstairs was an enormous space filled with every kind of workout machine and piece of equipment imaginable. There was even a practice ring in the center. The end walls were mirrored. She avoided looking into those, unwilling to see her lying, treacherous face.

On the stair wall, there was a large steel door that looked like something off an old World War II bunker, but it probably went to the garage. “You sure have everything you need down here, don’t you?”

“I do. I will get started on the bike.”

She fixed her smile in place. “Great. Hey, would you mind if I went upstairs and took my shower while you got your time in? I hadn’t quite gotten that far with my morning routine.”

“Go ahead.” He winked at her. “And I promise not to cheat.”

The smile got harder to maintain. “I’m going to hold you to that.” She turned and walked back up the stairs. As soon as she set foot in the kitchen, her smile flatlined and she sucked in a hard breath.

She was a horrible person. With no options. Her father would force her to do what he wanted, no matter what she decided. She stared at the ceiling and tried not to cry.

The hum of the bike started up, muted by the distance between them. Now was as good a time as any to text her father the news.

She marched up to the bedroom and dashed off a text to him. Everything’s a go.

Then she tossed her phone on the bed and climbed into the hottest shower she could stand. Her skin was pink when she got out, but the heat hadn’t done anything to erase the guilt riddling her.

She couldn’t do this to Van. She liked him. Really liked him. He was such a good man. The kind of guy she could see herself with, if she ever got that lucky again. He didn’t deserve this. She wrapped up in a towel and grabbed her phone off the bed.

Her father had responded. That’s my girl.

“Not anymore,” she whispered as she dialed his number.

He answered immediately. “My darlin’ girl, I knew you could do it.”

“I am not your girl. And I am not doing this. I’m going to tell him everything, and then you can deal with that.”

Silence answered her. But only for a second. “You will do this, Monalisa. We’ve discussed it. And now I command you to do it. And you know the consequences of ignoring your father’s command.”

A sharp pain pierced the back of her skull, just a phantom recollection of what was to come, for sure, but she winced at the memory all the same. “I don’t care anymore. I’d rather be dead than your slave.”

He laughed. “You may get your wish, then, girlie. But we both know you won’t last. The pain will get too much like last time, and you’ll cave. Then Sean will have to come out there and bring you home. What’s left of you anyway. You’ll be a quiverin’ mess by then. But if that’s what you want…”

She hung up on him, and a sob racked her body. So much for today being a good day.

Getting dressed, putting makeup on, and drying her hair were exercises in endurance. She felt numb and sick and disgusted with herself. And her father.

But she also felt helpless. Because she was.

She went out and stood on the balcony for a moment, drinking in the cold air and trying for just a second to forget the mess she was in. She couldn’t, of course, but the fresh air made her feel a little better.

Maybe once this was all over and she was free, she could come back here and explain everything to Van. She didn’t really expect him to forgive her, but at least she’d get to tell him her side of the story and explain why she’d lied to him.

That made her feel a little better. Enough that she was able to head back down to the gym.

She stopped at the bottom of the steps, unable to do much else but ogle.

Van stood in front of one of the big hanging punching bags. It was easy to see that he was bearing most of his weight on his good leg, but he wasn’t using crutches, and that was impressive. But not as impressive as the sight of him shirtless and pounding on the bag.

Each hit showed off the muscles in his back and arms as they flexed and moved. He’d land a punch, then balance himself. Over and over. The sheer size of him was remarkable, but the power of his strikes was stunning. The bag jumped each time he struck it.

She could only imagine what he could do to an opponent in the ring. No wonder the manticore had bitten Van. There was probably no other way to stop the force of a dragon shifter.

He grabbed hold of the bag, steadying it.

“Very impressive.”

He looked over his shoulder and smiled. “I did my time on the bike, I promise.”

“I believe you. How does your leg feel?”

“Pain is weakness leaving the body.”

She laughed. She’d experienced real pain. That wasn’t what it had felt like to her. “If you say so. But does that mean you’re hurting?”

He shrugged. “Is okay.”

Obviously, he wasn’t going to admit how badly he hurt. She got it. Men were like that. “Why don’t we call that done for today, then?”

He nodded and limped to a nearby bench and sat. His crutches and T-shirt were there. Grom came running over from where he’d been lying near the wall. Van picked up his T-shirt and pulled it on. “Let’s go into town today.”