Has anyone ever told you that you are just something?

      - Come on, Joe. Slow inhale, slow exhale.       Rachel patted her mentee on the back, who put his hands to his sides and tried to cope with the impotence that had overtaken him. His face was flushed, his gaze lost, and his breathing confused, signs of a good workout that had taken place time after time in the gym where the girl trained him. Jonathan followed her instructions and slowly sucked in air.       A ringtone sounded in the far room.       - Okay, you can rest more now, three to five minutes. And after that, drop to seventy pounds and squat as many times as you can. You understand me?       When she saw Jonathan's still bewildered face, she remembered how she had hoped when she was young that the more she practiced, the easier it would get. It had been twenty years, but it hadn't gotten any easier.       - Five minutes, Joe! - She gave him one last shout.       In the coach's room, the phone vibrated on the table. A slight shiver ran down her spine. The usual fear that once again she would be told some terrible news that would be impossible to cope with this time. Somehow the death of her father, which she had been told in this way, had made such a strong impression. But seeing the familiar name, the weight fell from her strong shoulders.       - It's the great and incomparable Mark Twite! What did I do to deserve such a call?       When Rachel's parents were at work from morning till night, and her godfather, Mark Twite, wasn't conquering another rocky mountain, she spent all her free time with him. In a place where clanking metal, the smell of sweat, and loud music were normal, young Rachel watched her willpower and muscles harden. Mark had left all of his energy at the gym in downtown Yosemite, even before he started his training center, and taught his young niece everything he knew. It's safe to say that he turned her life upside down, transforming her from a troublemaker to the most disciplined person in the world.       - If you greet me like that every time, I'll just have to call you more often.       - You need to get better at threats, Uncle. - Rachel said the last word with undisguised warmth. - How are you doing?       A slight smile lit up her face. Mark had not only replaced her parents, but he had also been the person who had gotten her into sports, which was now an integral part of her life, because now Rachel Murphy was one of the best fitness trainers in the western part of the United States.       - You and I will definitely talk about my business a little later, but right now I have an urgent matter to settle with you, sweetheart.       If Mark was calling to solve "one issue," it meant there was some work for her to do. So, changing her tone to businesslike, she was ready to take everything he would talk about with complete seriousness.       - I'm listening to you.       - I had one contract coming up, but I won't be able to fulfill a few of its terms. So I'd like to offer it to you.       - Did I miss the point when you started deciding who would train the actor guild?       - I've been asked to make a recommendation. He's a good friend of mine, so you're the only one I can trust. I'll send you the contract, read it. I think you'll find it's as good a fit as anyone.       In the evening Rachel had already gone through the whole document. One of the conditions, in addition to various nuances and basic preparation, was the possibility for the coach to follow his mentee around Europe, because the shooting was supposed to take place there. And that was really what Rachel did from time to time. Her last clients were Matt Damon, with whom she was in London during the filming of the last "Jason Bourne" and Josh Hutcherson from "The Mockingbird Jays", with whom she was in Germany and France. Who it will be this time around has not yet been revealed. No one ever names names before approval for the privacy of both the actor and the project.       Rachel dialed the number that her uncle had carefully provided in the letter.       - Hi, this is Rachel Murphy. I, uh.       - Yes, yes, Rachel! Hi. Mark Twite said you should be happy with the contract and to get in touch. Are you satisfied? - The strange girl asked hurriedly.       Rachel grinned. That sly fox knows her so well that he's already managed to stammer out even a word of agreement.       - Mr. Twite's probably already beat me to it. Yeah, I'm fine with that.       After Rachel was finally approved for the coaching position, flipping through the paperwork, she saw the name "Henry Cavill". Coaching Superman would be easier than someone who'd never been through the training process before. And considering his uncle had worked with him before, it shouldn't be difficult at all.              The Jim Jones Center, founded by her uncle, had been chosen as the location for her basic training. The opportunity to see a familiar face and take care of a few more people in the free time the center would provide smoothed out the discomfort that came with every sudden change of scenery. She didn't like being idle at all.       And so, a month later, while waiting for her new client, Rachel outlined her upcoming workout routine by scribbling in her notebook.       - He arrived. - The receptionist's head poked through the door of the office provided. - Mr. Cavill is waiting for you in the hall.       Without a second's hesitation, Rachel walked out of the office and into the gymnasium. Henry Cavill was talking to the receptionist, who was laughing loudly.       - Mr. Cavill, Rachel snapped to attention. - Rachel Murphy. Nice to meet you in person.       She immediately met the sparkling gaze of blue eyes. Brown curls playfully stuck out in different directions, creating a harmless, childlike image of a seemingly brutal man. A snow-white smile showed between the man's neat lips.       - Rachel, hello! He shook her outstretched hand. - I'm so glad to finally meet you. Mark has told me so much about you!       - It's scary to imagine what he's told you, - a slight smirk crossed the girl's face.       - I can assure you that after what Mark said, you are in my head between Wonder Woman and Vince Gironda, - Henry joked, referring to the famous bodybuilder from the early '50s who was known as the Iron Guru.       - I'm just amazed that he couldn't plant a comparison to himself in your head.              The first meeting went smoothly. They joked, laughed and tried to come to a common understanding about training. Fortunately, Cavill wasn't one of those people who thought they were smarter than everyone else, which sometimes accompanies people who couldn't handle their own fame. He was in agreement with almost all of the training processes and made only a few adjustments to his schedule.       The essence of Rachel's work was to plan the client's day. In fact, she was a babysitter: she told him what time to get up and go to sleep, what to eat - what not to eat, how to rest and relax. Periodically, she would go with him to the grocery store to evaluate his purchases and give advice and recommendations. All of this was accompanied by daily emails and photos of the diet.       And it's been like this every day. For seven months now. Rachel was able to appreciate the dedication this man had to the training process. He really was the kind of man who took it as his job and did it wholeheartedly. A nice bonus was his great sense of humor and his usual gallantry. He always opened doors for her when they went to the grocery store together, gave her a hand when she got out of the car, and was generally very courteous. Henry was the kind of man who did it so naturally and effortlessly, as if he'd been born that way. It added to that image, too, when Rachel resisted it with all her might and resented it, taking it as an insult. As if she could not cope with these tasks herself. But in time she gave in, because he also constantly expressed his displeasure that she had the power to command him in the hall, but the rest of the time she would have to put up with his care. And such care couldn't help but soften any character. For there was more to it than that. After four months he somehow found out that she liked marmite pasta, and each time he brought her back from regular work trips to London that were outside the scope of their contract; got her tickets to various concerts or matches, and generally endeavored to help on any occasion. And often he had to be stopped or kept at a distance, because Rachel did not want to interfere with his private life, since the newspapers every now and then flashed pictures of him with girls.       That's why such dense interaction for seven months now couldn't do without building friendships, with Mr. Cavill morphing into Henry or "big guy" and Rachel Murphy into just Rachel or Ray-Ray when it came to things that only the two of them understood.              On one of those similar days, Henry was lying on a bench. The mood from the morning had been incredible. He had gotten up earlier than usual, and he was overjoyed to be in Jim Jones again. The sun was shining brighter, the air seemed fresher, and the loaded barbell seemed lighter than usual. Between approaches, he tried to engage Rachel in conversation, but she refused, citing the need for concentration in training.       - Don't you think it's some kind of awesome day? - Henry asked.       - It just shows that I'm not giving you enough credit.       - Or I'm just glad to be here," the man said with his most sincere smile.       Rachel just hummed and lowered her gaze to her notebook. He could see she was in a bad mood today. On the next lift, Rachel silently stood behind his head, guarding him to avoid unnecessary injury. Every time the heavy barbell was placed back on the racks, he met her eyes. She raised an eyebrow gracefully, as if asking him how he was feeling, and only after he nodded did she climb down from the racks and write something thoughtfully in her notebook.       During another break, in which he was trying to get her to talk and smile at least a little, Col, one of the students she'd been working with for a couple months, came up to them. He said a quick hello to Henry and immediately turned his attention to Murphy. He needed help again. Rachel apologized and stepped back with the guy toward another machine, showing him some movement. Henry, on the other hand, just watched. Every day she wore the same clothes: a light and loose cotton sweatshirt and wide pants, which in no way allowed him to see her true physical shape. Even when they went out together, her body was always covered. The only thing available to him was her pretty face. And looking at it he noticed how she wrinkled her nose once more before laughing, and then placed her hand on Coke's shoulder and running her hand down the man's back, smiling broadly. An unpleasant feeling spread in her chest, displacing all the wonderful things that had settled there since morning. Unexpected anger filled his mind, and he couldn't resist it. He averted his eyes, not wanting to see that smile, much less think about the reasons for it.       When Rachel walked back in, she saw the joyful attitude had disappeared from the handsome man's face, and there was no trace of his former chattiness. She had an apprehension that he wasn't happy with her taking her time away from their training to help someone else. Even though Cavill is her main contracted client.       - I'm sorry about that. - Rachel nodded toward Kol. - He's new, and he doesn't know how I work.       Henry nodded silently and lay down on the bench. And when he finished his approach, he also silently stood up and leaned against the bar, catching his breath, drinking some water from the bottle.       - What, not even any discussion of the gentle sunshine or the incredible taste of the water?       Henry abruptly put the water bottle back where it belonged and sat silently back on the bench. The hope that it was just the workout finally hitting its peak and he was getting tired and wasting glycogen stores was lost somewhere in the depths, seeing Henry nervously pulling the towel off the barbell or tossing the water bottle. The worm of doubt began to dig into his already sick mind.       In the evening, sitting in her rented apartment, Rachel decided to try to remedy the situation. She picked up her phone and sent a message, starting from afar.       "Hey, big guy. How you feeling?"       A familiar joking demeanor. Rachel didn't remember her relationship with Matt Damon or any of her other mentees being on the same level, and it was sometimes frightening. Frightening because she could at some point lose the thread of the business relationship altogether and do something unacceptably reckless. Scary because her professional credentials were jeopardized. But Henry never responded to the message or the follow-up call.       Toward nightfall, the situation didn't change. She was still staring at her message, which was unanswered. Nibbling lightly on a fingernail, her head was cluttered with who knows what. But one thought drummed amidst all the other noise - was she definitely worried about her professional credentials? The whole evening was occupied with thoughts of nothing but Henry: what was his offense? How to conduct tomorrow's practice? When could I call him again so it wouldn't seem like.... Her heart felt like it had skipped an extra beat. Rachel froze in place not believing she was really concerned lest he think she was being intrusive. At what point had she lost control of the situation and was now acting like a teenager?              By ten o'clock in the morning she emerged from her office into the hall and saw Henry, who, like a spring, rose abruptly from the bench as soon as she was near him.       - Rachel! - The man exhaled.       - Good morning to you, too, Henry.       - I'd like to apologize, Rachel. Yesterday was, uh. It was rude.       - Henry," Rachel sighed and continued routinely. - Your testosterone is at its peak right now because of your training. You need to be rough. I was beginning to think I wasn't doing my job properly. - I'm starting to think I'm not doing my job well.       - That doesn't excuse me. I haven't been able to answer a text or a call yet. I'm creeped out just thinking about what it looked like.       "What it all looked like." Suppressed excitement once again came over her head. Exactly the same question she'd asked yesterday when she'd been out of breath. But what was on Cavill's mind at this moment? Only Col, who was tugging at her sleeve, could pull her out of her own thoughts.              Henry clenched his jaw.       - Rachel! - The same guy who'd caused Cavill's outrage the last time, touched Rachel's arm lightly.       - Kol! - Rachel smiled sweetly and turned in his direction.       - Can you help me with an exercise?       Anger once more seized Henry. He was pissed off at the way he touched Rachel's arm first, and then grabbed her sweater with his fingers and pulled it toward him.       - Col, I don't train anyone from the center anymore. My main client is Mr. Cavill, and I have to devote all my time to him. That's why you need to go to Bethany, and she'll help you. Hey, Bette!       She called out to the girl who was studying next to her ward.       - You take that car back to your place," Rachel playfully patted Col's shoulder, "he needs all your knowledge!       - Of course!       Bette waved her hand in her direction and Col walked off toward her, leaving Henry and Rachel alone.       - You don't train anyone else? - He couldn't believe what he was hearing.       - No. We only have a month left before we leave, and I want no distractions.       "Us."       Henry grinned ear to ear, feeling like a teenager.       - So, uh. I'm the only one for you?       - And unique! - Rachel slammed the notebook loudly in his face. - The dumbbells are waiting for you, Cavill! Don't waste our time.       Her deliberate strictness was even more delightful. She always resented his high-pitched tone and chased him to the gym when he embarrassed her with a question. The first time he'd seen this embarrassment was when Mark himself had come to watch the training. He reminded her of an incident when Rachel had fallen asleep in the gym one day during a workout and Mark had only discovered her in the morning. It was then that Henry had noticed the way she hid her face. Just like she was doing now. Only now there were no stories, now Henry was openly flirting with her, and not to say he was fully aware of it.              - Rachel.       Henry's voice lowered, like thick syrup. She looked up apprehensively and saw his brilliant blue eyes staring at her with his usual warmth. A soft, sedate smile remained on his handsome face.       - I'm so glad there are no misunderstandings between us.       But Henry was wrong about that. Inside her, every minute they spent together, more and more misunderstandings were brewing.              Toward nightfall, with no one left in the training center, Rachel pushed the heavy platform up with her feet, loaded with pancakes. She'd always known that only a hard workout could put all the scattered thoughts back on the shelves. But somehow, leaving the last of her strength behind, she didn't notice any change inside. The cool shower wasn't helping to resolve all that had accumulated over the past months, either.       Already sitting in the locker room, Rachel heard the sound of a text message coming in.       "Hey, Ray-Ray, the whiz kid is keeping me awake. Is there any way to calm him down?"       The whiz kid was none other than Kai, Henry's dog. It was a name she'd given him when he tilted his head to the side every time he saw an object of interest and wouldn't calm down until he was given a sniff.       "What's he doing?"       "Tries to pull my blanket off me every time I get comfortable."       "Give him your blanket at last."       "And you'll share yours later?"       Rachel felt a slight tingle in her nose from the blood rushing to her face.       "You'll be easily warmed up by a light jog, smartass."       On her way home, as she walked under the light of the street lamps, Rachel received another message.       "Do you want to see something?"       "?"       Henry clicked a link to some local magazine she didn't recognize. A photo appeared on the screen, showing the two of them in front of a car, having just left the store. Henry was holding the door and the girl's arm as usual while she got in. Above the photo was the caption - "Urgent! Henry Cavill is having an affair with his trainer." Inside the article were many pictures of the two of them looking at each other smiling.       "I especially like this one."       Cavill threw up a photo of him staring somewhere in front of him, while Rachel was fixing his curl, which had fallen out of his cap and was sticking into his eyes.       "Yes, it shows the results of my work very well." - Rachel noted how all of the man's acquired relief stood out in this photo.       "Ready to be in the ranks of my mistresses?"       "So basically I'm competing against the strongest woman in the DC universe and an MMA fighter? Awesome!" - Rachel snickered, referring to Wonder Woman and Gina Carano.       "I also get the occasional article about my affair with Chris Evans."       "Wow! Well, then I certainly don't stand a chance."       Rachel sent the message and stopped on the sidewalk, startled by her own flirtatious message. It wasn't enough for her to lose control and openly flirt with her client. But Henry's reply frightened her even more.       "If you need a chance, you just say the word ;)"       She blocked the phone immediately, not wanting to stumble across his message again. Such jokes could put their relationship into a vacuum, where it wouldn't be clear when it was a joke and when it was serious. On the other hand, though, why did she need that clarity when he was going to say something serious?              The next week Henry had to fly to London on business. Rachel gave him strict recommendations, which he followed every time, and she hung around doing nothing. Until she was awakened by the morning bell.       - Rachel Murphy?       - Yeah, that's me.       - My name is Drake Stanley. I got your number from our mutual friend Henry Cavill. Do you have a moment to spare?       The gist of the conversation was as follows. Henry started working with MuscleTech some time ago. And they called to see if his trainer would agree to be the face of the advertising campaign. They were looking for a woman to model their new line of sports nutrition products. Twenty percent of sales would be donated to leukemia charities. It was clear to Rachel why Henry had suggested her, since she had once told him that it was what had killed her father.       "I got a call with an offer. Do you know who gave them the contacts?"       "Very interesting... Who can just give contacts for nothing? I'm furious!"       "You've been ratted out, Cavill!"       "Oh Crap! Well seriously... I hope I didn't do anything to make you freak out?"       "Oh, Henry. You have no idea what you've really done..... Thank you."       "I'm glad you're satisfied."       On the third day after the call, the madness began. First, Rachel was sent to a costume fitting, of which she tried on countless costumes. At lunch, she had her hair and makeup done. And by evening, she was standing in the studio, rubbed with all sorts of oils and self-tanners, dressed in her first costume, waiting for the shoot.              As soon as Henry's plane landed in Soul Lake, he immediately went to the MuscleTech office. He knew what was happening now was something that would give Rachel a little chill. An unfamiliar environment, her first experience as a model, and yet an extra reminder of her father's death. He arrived at the studio already when some sort of shoot was in full swing. Approaching one of the familiar crew members, Henry gently asked.       - Scott, hi! Has Rachel Murphy been filmed yet or are they still in the planning stages?       - But... It's being filmed now.       - Now? - Henry barely audibly said, and looked up to see if what he saw when he entered the room was what he had seen before him. Under the lens of the many cameras and lights stood a beautiful woman, wearing a short top and mid-length shorts. Her tanned and slightly shiny skin shimmered playfully under the spotlights. Bright makeup hid a face underneath that was painfully familiar to him. And this was Rachel? He stepped closer, wanting to get a front-row view of the ongoing shoot. At the command of the man standing in front, Rachel assumed the necessary poses, tensing the right muscles and freezing. So that's what was behind the loose-fitting clothes. Behind them were sculpted shoulders, a flat stomach that showed off her abs, luscious thighs and buttocks that were accentuated by the tan that had been applied on top. Damn, she was damn good looking. His mouth went dry, and he swallowed unknowingly.       It was like a jigsaw puzzle in his head. He realized why he was so angry with this Kohl guy. He was overcome with... jealousy. The unknown guy could easily touch Rachel at any time, but Henry couldn't. At first he'd been hampered by his manners and his unwillingness to violate a stranger's personal boundaries, and afterward she'd shunned all his attempts at anything more than a brief touch. Despite everything he'd tried to do for her, she'd always kept her distance. But now, standing in the dark, away from her gaze, all he could see was how beautiful she was, how beautiful her body was, and how much he wished he could touch her.              An hour later, when Rachel was led into the dressing room for a short break between the next shoot, she was standing in her new costume, stretching with a rubber band, pumping blood into her muscles to give them more volume. There was a knock on the door and the one who had driven the whole process came in.       - Henry! - She rushed toward him, intending to hug the one person she knew in this whole building, but stopped herself just in time. - Sorry, I'm all tan. I'm gonna get all over you.       And the man had to awkwardly lower his outstretched arms. He was silently examining her body without saying a word. Rachel knew it was the first time he'd seen her in something like this, but that didn't lessen the embarrassment that settled over her face at the scrutiny.       - How was the trip? You need to be ready for tomorrow, by the way. - She went back to the rubber band and continued pamping. - I've prepared a particularly sophisticated workout for you.       - You're-- You're beautiful.       Rachel was even more embarrassed and looked timidly at Henry. Didn't she know she was beautiful? Of course she did. She had worked hard every day in the gym to get where she was. But calling Henry's attention to it... He leaned against the wall with his hands behind his back and looked at her with a warm gaze. His simple jeans and hoodie, along with the bags under his eyes and his slightly wrinkled face, spoke of a recent flight. Disheveled light curls hung down over his face. He was confused, embarrassed, and stood meekly in the distance. Tired and a little sleepy. The girl thought he looked so defenseless.       - Are you with the suitcase? - Rachel asked, hoping he had a chance to change.       - I left it in the car for now.       She immediately let go of the rubber band and walked over to Henry, hugging him lightly. His strong arms closed gently behind her back. He rested his head against her shoulder and exhaled deeply.       - Thank you for the opportunity to help those who... You know. I owe you one.       - You can't be in my debt if you haven't asked for anything. - He squeezed her a little tighter. - I just thought it might be important to you.              A week passed after these events. The next day was the official cast night, before the first run-through of the script. Still in America. Henry kept insisting that Rachel attend the meeting, but the girl did not agree, arguing that she was not an actor and there was no reason for her to be there. But he tried to convince her that sooner or later she would have to get acquainted with everyone, and it would be better to do it in such an informal setting, while everyone was sipping martinis or champagne.       And damn that Cavill, who was late. Rachel sat at the bar, tapping her fingernails nervously on the counter. She didn't know anyone and felt uncomfortable when strangers came up to her about something merrily cooing. After they found out that she was the trainer of the famous Cavill, they would immediately ask the same question - where was Geralt of Rivia himself. And with Rachel's inherent humor, she answered something like - I hope he was not captured by another party in Gwint. And even though everyone was friendly and fun, Rachel still didn't feel like she was in her element. There was no response to Henry's texts, so she decided to wait a couple more minutes, after sitting at the bar for half an hour, and go home. She felt a little sorry for the time she'd spent packing, both for herself and for Henry's stylist, who'd picked out her look, along with her hair and makeup.       - I understand that you've been waiting for someone for a long time," the bartender decided to start a conversation.       - Yes, - Rachel smiled politely, fanning herself with a napkin. - Could I have a glass of water, non-gassed, with lemon?       - I can suggest you wait in the courtyard. There's a gazebo, and it's less stuffy outside than in here. I'll bring your drink there.       Rachel gratefully accepted the offer, heading out into the courtyard. The garden was beautifully lit by lanterns, turning the dark silhouettes of green into distinctly familiar hues. Breathing in more air, she exhaled slowly, covering her eyes. It did feel cooler outside, until a warm, masculine hand lay on Rachel's back. Her first thought, which caused a fair amount of consternation, was that the bartender had suggested going outside for a reason, wanting to be alone. A velvety male voice sounded near her ear.       - Miss, your order.       Rachel turned around abruptly.       - I robbed a bartender.       - I hope you've come up with a believable story about being late, - Rachel joked and took the glass from Henry's hands.       - I got held up on set.       - What a bore, - Rachel snickered and took a couple sips of water.       Walking back to the common room, socializing with the cast was no longer as discomforting. Henry always kept close to her. Sometimes he would put one arm around her, pulling her close to him, when someone would make a joke about Henry's hard work as a coach, or about how hard it must be for Henry to be mentored by such a beautiful woman. He timidly agreed and cited the harsh working conditions, openly amused. For the first time in a long time she snuggled up to him without objection.              When Henry didn't have anything else scheduled after practice, he walked Rachel back to her apartment, and the evening after the cast banquet was no exception. They stood in the lobby, waiting for the elevator.       - You don't have to see me off every time, Henry.       - It certainly surprises me that you still can't get over it.       - How could I have forgotten-that's the style of the intelligent and well-mannered Henry Cavill. - Rachel tilted her head slightly toward him and rolled her eyes, her eyes frowning.       Stepping into the elevator, Henry pressed the button for the twenty-fifth floor.       - I seem to have created an erroneous image of myself in your head, - Henry chuckled jokingly.       - I don't think you can create the image of a gentleman, Henry. You can only be a gentleman. And you're just being, you know, respectable.       - What's going to happen to you when I do something unseemly? - Cavill smiled enigmatically.       - That's just impossible, - Rachel let out a chuckle and waved her hand away.       Henry grinned. His consciousness at once suggested a worthy course of action. He pulled a purse from his inside jacket pocket and took out a cigarette and a lighter. It smelled pleasantly of tobacco, which gave off a nice spicy aroma with a touch of dried leaves. As Henry flicked the lighter on, lighting the cigarette, he saw movement from the side. Rachel turned her head sharply.       - Oh my God, what are you doing! - She grabbed his free hand and pulled it down a little. - Stop it!       - It's something I've dreamed of doing since the beginning of our training.       Henry inhaled as deeply as he could, exhaling a column of smoke upward. The heavy air rattled pleasantly against his lungs. His throat always stung a little after long breaks, and his nose crinkled from the acrid odor. But this was like a breath of air. Rachel turned around, facing him, and grabbed the hand he was holding the cigarette with. She tried to pull it toward her, but her strength wasn't enough to complete the task.       - Henry, stop it!       He was frankly amused by her attempts to pull the cigarette away from her face.       - Well, you have to get to know me from the other side. I don't want to be that polarizing in your eyes.       He let her snatch the cigarette from his fingers. She went to the corner of the elevator and squatted down, trying to put out the cigarette butt on the metal strip in the corner.       - Did you really mean to show me your unseemliness in this way? - Rachel grumbled unhappily.       Maybe that was the crux of their misunderstanding - she didn't think he could be any different - wrong, bad - and so couldn't see in him what he'd long wanted to be caught up in. Henry looked up. They were passing the twenty-second floor. With a sudden movement, he jabbed the red button on the elevator panel and felt a slight jolt. The elevator froze in place. Rachel stood up from her squatting position, turning on her axis, and wanted to walk toward the doors, but Henry beat her to it. He grabbed the handrail on either side of her, pinning her in a corner.       - You need to understand one thing, Rachel. My attraction to you is not a habit or something natural. It's a deliberate desire to court a woman. Do you understand what I'm saying?       - What are you saying, Henry? - Rachel looked apprehensively at her hand that rested on his chest and pressed hard, not letting him get any closer.       - Rachel," his voice was low and a little rough, calling out to her. - Has it ever occurred to you that I may be a well-mannered and gallant Henry Cavill, but I'm a man first and foremost?       She lifted the same cautious gaze.       - That I have my own desires that you may not have thought of.       Her face flushed slightly. She dropped her purse and jammed her other hand into his, trying to put more distance between their bodies. But Henry wouldn't allow it, pushing even harder. Looking at her fixedly now, he could see that she was unusually confused and biting her lower lip in excitement. It took some effort for him to tear his gaze away from that movement and back to her eyes.       - Henry, you're out of line and it would be nice if you'd get off my back!       - Why are you blushing, honey? Do you like me? - He smiled broadly.       - Yeah, Henry, you embarrass me. I'm also embarrassed that you're overstepping your contractual boundaries.       It didn't go unnoticed from Henry how she missed the second question. That brought an even bigger smile to his face. Silence was a sign of agreement and that sign, he could have sworn, had been noticed long before this evening.       - You have no idea how I wonder every time what would happen if I crossed those boundaries.       Henry ran one hand down her thigh and waist, then slid his hand up Rachel's back, pulling her close to him. I had to hand it to Henry's stylist, who'd picked out that black dress below her knees, with the long neckline at the side and the thin straps that slipped down her beautiful shoulder. He moved even closer to her face and tilted his head sideways, burying his nose in her auburn strands, taking in the scent of perfume. Rachel swallowed loudly. Her nervous breathing made her breasts press even closer to him.       - Henry, why did the elevator stop? - Hot breath scorched Henry's ear.       He recoiled, stood in the center of the elevator as if nothing had happened, and pressed the red button once more. The elevator moved on. Henry turned halfway around to Rachel, loosening the tie that made him feel tight.       - I know that tomorrow you could cancel the contract and sue me. But as you can see, I went all in. Do you have the courage to do the same?       From the sounds behind her, Rachel picked up her purse and walked briskly out of the elevator as the doors opened on the right floor. Henry was walking in the distance, not pushing any further. The fear that he'd misread the situation that had developed between them over the past few months was causing an uncomfortable heaviness. It might be over tomorrow: she'd cancel the contract and he'd never see her again. Rachel opened the doors in a hurry, and when Henry caught up with her, she flew inside, closing the door right in his face. He wasn't sure what he should do. Knock and apologize, or leave and give her time to recover. But the door opened as abruptly as it closed. She grabbed him by the tie and pulled him sharply toward her, letting him into the dark hallway. She kept her eyes on him even as the light from the hallway disappeared completely and the door slammed shut, leaving them in darkness. Henry felt a jolt to his chest that sent him crashing backward into the same front door. The lock clicked and they were locked from the inside.       Henry felt a hand on his cheek and hot lips on his neck. He didn't hesitate and pulled Rachel against him, as he'd wanted to do so long ago. With all the passion and desire that had been building up for months. She frantically unbuttoned his shirt, touching his bare chest. The excitement of every touch, and he kissed the soft skin hotly.       - Henry, - Rachel tried to distract him with a huff.       But he didn't answer. He mumbled something inaudible, not wanting to be away from her for a moment.       - We need to, uh...       - What? - Henry took a deep breath and decided to ask.       - We need to work on your left pectoral muscle, it's a little smaller than the right.       Henry stopped and in the semi-darkness of the hallway, breathing deeply, tried to make sense of what he had heard. The situation was more than surreal: Henry Cavill was standing in front of her, one of the most desirable men in the world, a man who could barely contain his mind, a man who was trying to hold back his desire so he wouldn't rip off that damn dress. And she was attracted to his pecs. He couldn't hold back a chuckle.       - Has anyone ever told you that you're a piece of work?