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“What possible solution could you have for me?” I pose the question like a challenge, and that’s my first mistake. If I remember anything my father told me about Elio is that he loves a challenge.
I call that the ‘I’m a rich, entitled man who is never told no’ syndrome.
“A mutually beneficial arrangement. I know about Minniebakes—”
“In,” I cut him off, my head angling toward his office.
Elio smirks, putting his hand out for me to walk ahead of him. I do, only because I want to know how the hell he found my baking account.
It’s my secret and greatest passion that no one knows about except for Aurora and Camille. I run a somewhat popular account where I post baking videos, and one day, I’d like to open my own store.
The videos are where I get my income for now, but it’s not enough to pay all of the bills.
I squeeze past him into his office, taking it in. It’s bleak, with stark white walls and walnut wood floors. A single boring white desk sits in the middle of the room with a desktop computer, papers, files, pens, and all the essential desk things on it.
Even his walls have no decorations or pictures. The only thing that gives the room any personality is the bookshelf behind his desk, which is full of books.
That’s unexpected.
There’s a multitude of textbooks that range from marketing strategies to psychology and history. It surprises me that he reads, let alone academic literature.
Elio shuts the door behind him, and that’s when I remember how much taller he is than me. I know from his stats that he’s six-foot-three, and just from looking at him right now, I can tell he’s nothing but pure muscle underneath his clothes.
His chest is wide, his Dri-Fit long-sleeved shirt molding the muscles on his shoulders and arms.
A beard decorates his angular jaw, the dark scruff matching the locks on his head that are perfectly styled to the side, except for a singular piece falling onto the middle of his forehead.
It’s only the second time I’ve really looked at a man quite this long, and both times involved him, but I don’t dwell on that fact and focus on the problem here.
“How did you find it?” I ask, getting right to the point.
“Well, it is social media, Jasmine. Anyone could find it if they wanted to. I was scrolling through my feed and your account popped up. I know you never show your face, but I noticed the bracelet on your wrist. It was the same one you had on the day we met,” he explains casually, shoving his hands in his pockets.
My fingers mindlessly move to brush against the dainty rose gold chain around my wrist, twisting the small heart that dangles from it. My halmeoni gave it to me a few years before she passed away.
“Please don’t tell my father,” I say, my voice softer this time. He has something over me and I can’t have him tell anyone. “It’s complicated.”
Elio shakes his head. “I got a hint of that from your phone call I overheard, but I won’t tell him. You have my word. That’s where our deal comes in.”
I don’t say anything because as much as I hate to admit it, I’m intrigued.
“I’m offering you to move into my condo that’s outside of campus. Before you protest, hear me out. Your videos are good, but you need a better backdrop for them and my kitchen is perfect for that. Besides, since marketing is my specialty, I can help you with that too. In return, I need you to watch my cats when I’m away for games and practices in general. We don’t have to tell anyone, and you can tell your family that you moved in with Camille since she lives in the same building I do.”
He must be joking.
Yet, why am I even considering it?
“Did you seriously just come up with this in the time you spent eavesdropping on my conversation? Also, I don’t think I need the help of a hockey player with my business, but thanks anyway.”
To Elio’s credit, he doesn’t flinch at my dig. Instead, he gives me a smirk. “I’ve been thinking about wanting to help you since I stumbled upon your videos, but the conversation you were having inspired an idea.”
“Why do you want to help me?” I ask, perplexed by this man and his sudden generosity. I can usually read people with ease, but he’s still a mystery to me.
“Because of everything your dad has done for me. I want to give back in any way I can,” he answers honestly.
“And you don’t want anything sexual out of this, right?” I clarify as I need to make sure nothing will happen between us.
Elio scoffs, looking annoyed. “I know you think I’m your typical jock and I don’t care enough to convince you otherwise. I don’t need to prove myself to anyone, but for your peace of mind, no, I don’t. Your dad is like a father to me, so you’re off-limits.”
