Accidentally Yours (Merffy Kizzmet) novel Chapter 219

Chapter 219

Rafael’s latest jab barely missed her jaw–she ducked, slipped inside his guard, and landed a soft punch to his ribs that was more message than hit. He grunted, and the sound gave her just enough satisfaction to keep moving.

Jesus, he’s strong. Heavy. Solid in a way that says trained by violence, perfected by patience.

And she was very quickly running out of both oxygen and ego.

On the outside, she was all grin and glittering eyes. On the inside?

Everything hurts, Dottie. This is how you trained me to die, huh? Cool, cool, cool.

She spun out of range, caught her balance, and managed to throw him one of her lazy smiles. “That all you got, Coach?”

Rafael wiped a line of sweat from his temple, eyes sharp, amused. “You’re breathing hard.”

“I’m laughing on the inside.”

“I bet.”

They circled again. His movements were steady, deliberate. Controlled chaos. She admired that. He wasn’t trying to dominate her he was reading her, cataloging, learning.

Smart. Dangerous.

Exactly the kind of man Enzo wouldn’t want her near and also want to kill for looking at her too long.

The round ended with a mutual step back, no knockout, no winner, just respect in the ache of it. The guys watching were half cheering, half whispering holy shit under their breath.

Rafael offered her a hand; she took it, grip steady even though her arms felt like molten glass.

“Good form,” he said. “Clean hits. You’ve got control.”

“Compliments? Be still my heart,” she teased, swiping a towel over her face. “Don’t go soft on me, Coach.”

He laughed, low and easy. “Not a chance.” Then, more curious: “Where’d you learn that kind of precision?”

She caught the faint glint in his eye. Testing. Fishing.

“Baba,” she said simply. “Old witch with a mean right hook.”

He smirked. “Figures. She teach you to smile while getting hit too?”

“Among other things.” She leaned against the ropes, pretending to stretch. “Like how to hide it when you’re dying inside.”

That got her a look something between respect and curiosity but he didn’t push. Not yet.

Instead, he started peppering her with easy questions. Not about Enzo. Not about business. About her, Favorite weapon, favorite music to train to, whether she preferred knives or blunt force (“depends who I’m mad at“).

He listened, really listened, filing everything away with that too–calm stare.

When he finally paused to grab his water bottle, she spoke before she could stop herself.

“What do you know about the Academy?”

The question landed between them like a thrown knife; silent, sharp, deliberate.

Rafael froze for half a second. Just half. Then he smiled. “You’ve been busy.”

“I do my homework.”

“That’s more of a graduate–level topic.” He took a sip, casual like he wasn’t deflecting. “Maybe we save that lesson for another day.”

She tilted her head, pulse still hammering but grin cool. “So you do know something.”

“I know a lot of things,” he said simply, tossing his towel over his shoulder. “Doesn’t mean I share them.”

Lola’s grin widened, even as her body screamed for mercy. “Challenge accepted.”

Rafael chuckled, shaking his head as he walked toward the office. “Stretch, witch. You earned it.”

She dropped to the mat, finally letting herself breathe, really breathe, as soon as his back was turned. Every muscle in her body twitched in protest.

Yep. Dying. Dead. Just a skeleton with good hair.

Still, she couldn’t help the small, fierce smile that crept up her face.

She’d come here to test him. But the truth?

He scared her a little–in the way only someone who recognized your kind of darkness could.

And that meant one thing.

He was worth keeping an eye on.

By the time the SUV rolled into the private garage beneath the hotel, her body was staging a full–scale revolt. Every muscle screamed. Her legs felt like overcooked noodles. Even blinking took effort.

She didn’t even wait for Thing 1 to open her door–just pulled her phone from her pocket and typed a single text:

911. In the garage.

Then she tossed her head back against the seat and groaned.

God help me, I’m going to need to be rolled upstairs in a laundry cart.

The elevator doors slid open less than sixty seconds later.

Enzo appeared first–suit jacket half–buttoned, expression carved from panic with half the crew fanning out behind him, guns already drawn.

He spotted her slumped in the backseat and froze.

“Lola?”

She lifted one hand weakly. “Hey, baby.”

The tension in his shoulders dropped a full inch. “You sent me 911.”

“Yeah,” she said solemnly. “Because it’s an emergency.”

His eyes swept over her like he was cataloging injuries. “What happened?”

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