Isaak: The Counterpunch Series Book 1 Page 5

  “I'd say it's reasonable and very doable. Thank you, Rachel.” I smile in gratification.

  “No problem. Remme, you're one of—if not the—best physiotherapist I have here; I trust your judgement, so it's your call. Just keep me informed on his progress, and if there's no improvement you will have to resort back to the proper channel. Anything else while I'm here?”

  “Nope,” I say, popping the P. “That's everything.” I shake my head at her. She gives me a sturdy nod before turning and leaving my office.

  Now that's out of the way, I can carry on with my other jobs and get ready for my next client before lunch.

  “Oh bollocks.” The sound of my phone alerting me of a message has me almost jumping out of my seat. I open up my text app and see it’s from Isaak.

  Isaak: Damn it, that’s a shame as a booty call was the first thing that popped in my head when I saw your name. You don’t know what you’re missing

  I place my phone down on my desk, forgetting about it for now, as I need to get in my gym clothes hastily. Plus, I haven’t got a clue how I should take that text, let alone how to reply to it. When I sent that message earlier, I was simply stating the obvious. I know how men like him work—what goes through their heads. The quicker he realises that it’s never going to happen the better.

  ***

  An hour later, I'm saying goodbye to my patient and wishing them all the best as it was my last session with them. I love when these days come around. They leave here elated and me...I'm chuffed to pieces knowing I've done my job, helping them achieve the goals we set out for them to accomplish when they first walked into Proflex.

  I make my way into my office, still in my gym clothes, and spot the light in the corner of my phone flashing.

  Picking it up I enter my pin and see a new message waiting for me.

  It's from Isaak again.

  I open up his text, wondering what he could possibly say next.

  Isaak: I’m taking the no reply as a sign that you’re wondering what it would be like if you weren’t missing out! ;)

  When I read his message, I can't help the smile that lights up my face. I shouldn’t be finding this funny, and I most definitely shouldn’t be turned on and the fact he’s already figured out that I am, in fact thinking about it. I’m at work for fuck’s sake. My text message from before seems to have backfired on me slightly.

  He's over-confident and doesn't stop with his flirting. The way he acts towards me set the alarm bells ringing. I can't be risking my job, let alone my career, for a few cheeky, texts back and forth.

  I know he's used to getting what he wants when it comes to women.

  Why would he even be interested in someone like me?

  He's not: he's just after one thing, and it's blatantly obvious what that something is. I'm not going to be just another notch on his bedpost, no matter how gorgeously rugged he is. It's not happening.

  Ha, you keep telling yourself that Remme, see how long it lasts.

  I reply to his text, playing it safe and ignoring his last message the best I can.

  Me: I've spoken to my manager and we have the go ahead. Let me know when you have everything on the list and we can go from there. The sooner the better so we can get to work. Just because you got your way this time, doesn't mean you will again.

  I send it off and lock my phone.

  I go about the rest of my day with ease. I miss Charlotte at lunch but I make a promise to catch up with her soon.

  Since I’ve messaged Isaak, I find myself checking my phone every five bloody minutes. He’s still not replied. That should be a good thing though, right?

  My phone pings and alerts me of a message, swiping it up from the desk with far more excitement as I find myself enjoying this back and forth. Turns out it is only Spencer, letting me know he’s picked wine up for later.

  From the moment I saw Isaak I let my guard slip. I’ve never had this kind of attention from a client before. I need to forget the instant attraction I felt towards him and get back to being his physiotherapist. I need to keep this as professional as possible.

  No matter how much I find myself physically attracted to him, I can’t go there. For multiple reasons.

  The main one being my career but the fact the media could get wind of me through him... Shit me, I couldn’t cope with them diving into my personal life and seeing my face plastered on the front of the latest newspaper or magazine for the whole world to see. Not that I have anything in my personal life that I need to hide. I’d just prefer it not to be on the front page for the world and his wife to see.

  Oh God, just the thought of that makes me want to vomit and bring my lunch back up. I can just see the headlines now:

  Isaak’s new groupie. Is she only trying to further her own career through the likes of being associated with Isaak?

  Nope, I’m not doing this to myself. I’d go stir crazy with what they could potentially write about me.

  I need to get this infatuation; yes, that's what I’m calling it, for him out of my system as soon as possible preferably before I have to see him for his first session.

  The rest of the day goes by quicker than I expect as I’ve kept myself busy with anything and everything to stop Isaak popping back up into my subconscious. Before I know it, it’s five in the evening and I can call it a day.

  I switch off my computer and grab all my belongings, including Isaak’s work plan as I need to adjust it to fit it better with him wanting to work from home.

  I place his folder in my bag and leave my office. I head for the lift to take me down and out the building. It arrives the same time I reach it, and stepping inside, I push the button for the bottom floor. Just as it’s beginning to close, I hear Rachel shouting in the distance for me to hold it. I swing my arm out in front of me to stop the lift doors from closing.

  “Thanks, Remme. I can’t wait to get out of this building today. It’s been a hectic one to say the least.” She sounds like she’s just run a marathon.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yes, yes. Nothing I can’t handle. Oh, that reminds me. I’ve just had another interesting phone call from...what was his name again? Mr Brookes manager…”

  “Oh, you mean Kenny?” I ask, trying with all my might to sound non-interested at the mention of Isaak’s name. I dread to think of what he wants now.

  “That’s the guy. Well he was very persistent on a couple of things that’s for sure. I didn’t know how to react at first...never mind how you’d react.” She’s not making sense, and what have I got to do with it?

  “What did he want?” I ask, my frustration with all this clear as day.

  “Well, don’t go nuclear on me, but I’ve sort of agreed to his unfathomable demands, but I think he has a valid point,” she rambles on again.

  “Rachel,” I say louder, grabbing her attention again. “Will you just spit it out. What have you agreed to?”

  “Okay. Well, basically, to cut things short, I’ve told Kenny that you will solely concentrate on treating Isaak for the next four weeks, like we discussed earlier.” She speaks so fast; I swear I hear her wrong.

  “You did what? Why?” I’m so angry I wanna slap her right across the face. The only reason I don’t is because she’s my boss and would no doubt fire my arse.

  Something tells me that Isaak is the one making all these of demands.

  “It makes sense with what you asked me before. I have all your patients booked in with Melvyn and a couple of others to take the workload off you,” she tries to explain and defend her actions.

  “Yeah, but I didn’t mean for you to give all my other patients away to someone else whilst I helped him. I said I’d help him from home, purely because of the media.” I run my hands through my hair as there is nothing else, I can do to stop myself from busting her nose.

  “Come on, Remme. You can’t drive to his house and back to see your other clients in your diary. There’s not enough hours in th
e day for that. I thought I would be helping you out.”

  I look at her sarcastically, even though I know she’s right. Why did I not think about all this when I told Isaak? I’m in a right pickle now, and there’s nothing I can do about it. The deed has already been done so to speak.

  “Well, I haven’t got much of a choice about it now, have I? That doesn’t mean I’m okay with it.” The lift doors open as we reach the bottom, and I all but stomp my feet as I walk out and away from Rachel.

  “Hey, are we okay?” she asks, stopping me by placing her hand on my arm.

  “Yes, we’re fine. I just wish you’d spoken to me about it first. But it’s my job, and I have to honour the patient's wishes,” I tell her calmly, even though I’m fuming with her. With that I walk out of the building and to my car.

  So much for keeping my distance from Isaak. Now this is going to be a million times harder to resist his devilish good looks, which in my eyes should be illegal.

  When did my life become so bloody complicated? Oh yeah, that would be the moment Isaak stumbled into my life. Why do I get the feeling he’s planned this or at least had something to do with it?

  That sexy as sin prick is going to feel my wrath when I see him next time.

  Labia, you traitorous bitch... Don’t fail me now.

  Chapter Nine

  Isaak

  When an idea forms in my head, I just go with it—fuck the consequences. As soon as I get the go ahead from Remme about our little arrangement, I am straight on the phone to Kenny, doing what I do best. Some people call it making demands, I on the other hand call it fighting—fighting for what I want. I am a highly-skilled fighter after all, and it’s about the only thing I’m good at.

  The whole process, from meeting Remme to sorting out my first session with her, was all completed over the weekend. Remme had dropped me a message late Sunday evening letting me know everything was set up on her end and that she would see me Monday morning—today—at mine for nine am. Therefore, Remme is all mine—at least for now she is any way. The idea of me sharing her with anyone else makes me want to hijack her and keep her locked away just for me, which is fucking clinically insane, but it is what it is.

  So here I am pacing holes in the stonework on the kitchen floor waiting, for her to arrive. For the first time ever, I feel the nerves kicking in. Why I’m nervous I’ll never know. It’s not like I don’t interact with gorgeous women on a daily basis. I’m just going to put it down to not wanting to fuck this up before we’ve even got going.

  The intercom singing is enough to spring me from the spot I'm in, and moving over to the security screen, I press the button to open the gates, knowing who it is. I make my way out of the kitchen into the hallway and glance around behind me, making sure I don’t have anything laying around the house that she shouldn’t see. Then, I look down at myself. Apart from my shorts and trainers I have nothing else on, for two reasons: one, because I hate working out in a T-shirt, they are too restricting and two, I wanna see her reaction to my bare torso. I’m ripped and I know it. It’s one of my best assets, so why wouldn’t I flaunt it in her face.

  I open the door wide and lean on the doorframe with my arms folded out in front of me as I wait for her to park the car. The second she steps out and I get a full-length view of her. It makes my dick hard. She’s even more beautiful than the last time I saw her.

  “Hi Isaak. How was your weekend?” she asks on a smile as she makes her way up the few stairs leading to the door.

  I catch her eyes drifting up and down my body, but she quickly corrects herself. See...women can’t resist looking at my chest no matter how hard they try.

  “Boring. It’s not like I could do much.” I return her smile with one of my own before I move from the door and wave my hand out for her to enter.

  “Well then, you should be well rested for us to get on with some rehab today,” she sings, like it's the perfect song.

  “The gym is just through there.” I point over to the side of the house and she walks ahead, giving me the perfect opportunity to check out her arse in the tight workout leggings she’s wearing.

  “Wow. You have a nice set up here.” She states over her shoulder as she pulls the glass door open to my gym.

  “Yeah, I do a lot of my own workouts here when I can’t get to the gym. I fight for a living, so it makes sense to have a gym here at home.”

  She continues to take in the room. “Before we start anything, I just need you to sign this contract for me.” She hands a file over.

  “Ok. What’s it for?” I ask, taking it from her and opening it up.

  “It’s a contract stating that if anything happens to you during our sessions, you can’t sue us basically, as you have chosen to work from home and not at the centre.”

  “Jesus. How hard are you going to ride me in our sessions, Remme?” I say without thinking.

  “Excuse me?” she spins around with a shocked expression on her face.

  “That’s not what I meant. Okay, yeah it was, but not the way you’ve taken it. I just meant...you know what, just forget I said it.” I hadn’t intended for it to come out as a chat up line. I’d meant it as a joke. I look over the contract again just for something to do. “Where do I need to sign?”

  She pulls a pen from somewhere and hands it to me, her fingers brushing against mine gently, but she quickly retracts hers. “Just there please.”

  I sign the damn paper, close the file, and hand it back to her, “Done.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I managed to get most of the equipment on the list, but I’m still waiting on a few things. They should be here by next week, though.”

  “Okay, that’s not a problem. We have plenty of machines and tools in here that will do the job.” She starts to work her way around the gym, getting acquainted with everything. “Right, so I know where your injuries are, but I’m not aware of where your most painful areas are right now or what we need to work on most. We’re just going to keep this light for now so I can gauge what way to treat you. We’ll ease you into it slowly, Isaak. You might not like it, but your body will appreciate it, trust me. You have me for the next month at least, so I’ll be spending most of my days with you here. Over the course of the four weeks, your treatment and sessions will get more intense, but by then, your body will be able to take that extra strain you’re putting it through.”

  I nod my head in answer then we get started.

  “By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be as fit as a fiddle.”

  Remme has me doing light stretches here and there, warming my muscles up and loosening the joints, which is something I’m used to doing on a daily basis when training for a fight or keeping on top of my fitness. I’m not going to lie: I start to struggle with the most simple of stretches. I feel like a weak and pathetic fool for the entire six hours she’s spends with me. A fucking three-year-old could do what I’m doing, and they wouldn’t break a sweat, unlike me.

  The second day doesn’t go any better, either. I don’t find it any easier and I don’t know if Remme notices how much pain I am in as she hasn’t said a word. Instead she’s circling me constantly, watching my every movement, stopping every now and then to touch a part of my body.

  The tingling up my thigh, the smooth sensation of her fingertips up my arm, the tight grip she has whilst massaging my lower back has me thankful, she is behind me. The way she slips her hands around to my torso and lower part of my stomach has my heart rate going a thousand beats a minute and wishing she would just move them an inch or two lower—even though I know she won’t. She is way too professional.

  All of these feelings are lighting a burning fire in the pit of my very soul. Each time her fingers grace my skin, I tense up more and grit my teeth to hold myself back from grabbing her and touching her instead. Hopefully she thinks I am grimacing in pain. I am, but that isn’t the main reason for my discomfort. At one point I must have looked at her weirdly, as s
he begins to tell me the reason, she keeps touching me. Apparently, she is feeling the muscles to see if they are tight or pulling more than they should be. How I got through that day I’ll never know.

  The next couple of days become more comfortable and bearable, so she increases the speed and the weights we have been using beforehand, mixing up my worktop routines, getting me on the treadmill, walking and light jogging. Everything makes me work up a sweat again.

  Friday morning rolls around and therefore my final day of rehab for the week.

  Remme is setting something up in the gym while I finish my breakfast. I have no clue what she’s doing, but the bag she carried in with her intrigues me and has me wolfing down my breakfast.

  “What the fuck is that?” I bellow as I walk in the gym, making Remme jump. When she turns around, she’s got the biggest and most beautiful smile gracing her face. “What does it look like?” She laughs as she skips over to me still lingering in the doorway.

  “It looks like a school fucking playground is what it looks like.”

  She pulls me further into the gym by my arm, laughing at me the whole time.

  “Just go with it. It will be good for you, I promise.”

  I’m seeing a more fun and playful side of her today, and I like it a hell of a lot. Whether it’s because she has become more used to spending time with me or if she’s letting her professionalism slip slightly, I don’t know, and quite frankly I don’t care so I just go along with whatever she has planned.

  “There is a flipping Twister mat on the floor in the middle of my gym, Remme.” I give up fighting the grin that appears from all the sexual ideas that start running rampant in my brain.

  “That is correct. Brownie points for your observational skills. You’ve worked hard this past week, so I thought we’d have a fun, yet still useful, workout session today. So, come on. This is one of my favourite games to use with clients. Makes me feel carefree and less stressed. Plus, I get to be a kid again, even if only for a short length of time. So, don’t disappoint me and just play the game...please.” She pleads at me, batting her eyelids playfully.