Under My Skin: A Contemporary Romance Set in Paris (Bistro La Bohème Book 2) by Alix Nichols Page B

she said.
    He ceased drawing closer, but he didn’t retreat either.
    “A friend of mine put her in touch with a Help Center, but it didn’t go
down too well.” She threw her hands up. “I don’t know how to convince her to
report him. And to jilt him.”
    Mat took a moment before speaking. “She should learn Krav Maga.”
    “What in hell is Krav Maga?”
    “An extreme form of self-defense. Several martial arts plus a bunch of
dirty tricks rolled into a technique that’s diabolically effective.”
    “Wow. Sounds like something I wouldn’t mind trying myself. Are you an
adept?”
    “I’ve been practicing it for the past two years. In addition to the
weight lifting.”
    “I see.”
    “If she takes a class twice or three times a week, in a month she’ll be
able to knock him out.”
    “No kidding?”
    “I’m serious. Besides, it will do wonders for her self-confidence.” He
smirked. “Remember me four years ago?”
    “I thought you were Cécile’s handiwork,” she said archly.
    “I’m a multivariate equation.” He counted on his fingers. “Cécile’s
handiwork plus weights plus Krav equals the perfection standing in front of
you.”
    She burst out in laughter. “Why do I have the impression you’re only half joking?”
    He whipped out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. “I know an
instructor who gives Krav Maga classes in the 18th, just a few métro stops from here. I’ll send you his phone and address . . . if
your number hasn’t changed.”
    “Still the same.” She shifted from one foot to the other. “I’ve got to go
back and congratulate Amar . ”
    “Of course,” he said and stepped aside to let her
pass.
    ***

“So, Liviu is at a friend’s place . I’m free all evening. Where is it you want to take me?” Daniela asked, letting
Jeanne into her tiny loge.
    “You’ll see when we get there.”
    In the métro , Jeanne
noticed Daniela eyeing her voluminous backpack with a mixture of curiosity and
apprehension. At one point, the concierge opened her mouth to say something but
then closed it, shooting Jeanne a haunted look.
    She finally spoke when they resurfaced at Château Rouge. “I don’t think I
can handle another session with a bunch of moralizing old ladies like the ones
you set on me last time.”
    “I’m really sorry about that,” Jeanne said. “My friend who recommended
them sincerely believed they’d help.”
    “I’m sure they sincerely wanted to. Only they made me feel
so . . . ashamed of myself and of my life. I couldn’t bear the
idea of seeing them again.”
    “I understand.” Jeanne said, feeling her ears burn.
    This time we’ll try something entirely different.
    Daniela adjusted her sunglasses on her nose. “I only agreed to come
because you threatened to report Nico to the police.” She touched Jeanne’s
sleeve. “How about we go to the movies? I haven’t done that in years.”
    Jeanne shook her head and halted in front of an incongruous building that
said Dojoin Asian-style red letters. She pushed the entrance door open
and turned to Daniela. “ Et voilà . Follow me.”
    As they made their way through the hallway, Jeanne read the signs on the
doors: Karate, Judo, Kung fu, Kickboxing, Ballet.
    Really?
    The next one said Krav Maga.
    She knocked on the door. A few seconds later a big man in his midforties
opened the door and ushered them into the large room with padded flooring.
    He pointed to the two visitor chairs by a small desk in the corner of the
room. “Jeanne, right? And . . . ?”
    “Daniela,” Jeanne answered for the concierge who looked completely
overwhelmed by the turn of events.
    “My name’s Dominique. Please, sit down,” the instructor said. “I’ve been
expecting you. The beginner class starts in fifteen minutes. You can try it
after our chat, if you brought the right clothes.”
    “I have everything we need,” Jeanne said, pointing to her backpack.
    Dominique delivered a short introduction to his martial