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We start heading toward the office, but before we can get there, Alina gets waylaid by a member with a billing question.
Estela, my ex, never had a hair out of place. Her makeup was always impeccable, and her wavy brown hair was always styled in soft waves around her heart-shaped face. Even during sex, she never looked anything less than perfect. Never sweaty, never mussed.
Alina Zuccaro could not be more different. Her face is flushed from exertion, and strands of damp hair cling to her forehead. She’s wearing yoga pants, a faded oversized T-shirt, and scuffed running shoes.
And I can’t take my eyes off her.
Maybe it’s the way her muscles flex as she moves. Maybe it’s the angry glint in her eyes, the way her chest heaves and falls as she tries not to react when I bait her. She looks strong and confident, and fuck me, I want to see her naked. I want to see all that passion channeled into sex, those full breasts bouncing as she rides my cock, that sassy mouth sucking my fingers, taking them deep because, underneath that spit and that fire, she’s a good girl, my good girl…
What. The. Fuck.
I need to get my head out of my ass. Now. Otherwise, I’m going to be sporting an erection every time I see Alina, and that’s just creepy. We’re in business together, and I need to keep it professional. Even if she were willing to indulge in some no-strings-attached sex, it’s still a bad idea. As I told Daniel, I’m going to sell my share of this gym in a year. Sell it from under her feet, as he put it, although I have no idea why my lawyer is having an attack of conscience. Compared to some of the shit he pulls, my plans are positively angelic.
But Alina might feel betrayed when I sell, and she will hate me, even more than she does already. Since I’m not a complete asshole, I’m not going to sleep with her before I bail.
Alina looks up from the computer screen and says something soothing to the man with the billing problem. She’s good at customer service, I realize as I watch her in action. She’s calm, patient, and honest. The guy starts out irritated but is soon nodding his understanding at the mix-up and agreeing that there’s nothing to worry about. “I trust you,” he says. “You’ll take care of it.”
And that’s why her partner couldn’t wreck this place, no matter how hard he tried.
“Sorry about that,” she says, jerking my attention back to the present. The member is gone. “Simon was changing billing systems, and somehow, Edward ended up getting billed twice. With any luck, it’s an isolated issue. Otherwise, I’m going to be dealing with irritated customers all week long.”
“Knowing what I do of Groff, I wouldn’t hold out too much hope.”
She gives me a sharp look. “I’ve been wondering about that. How did you and Simon even meet? Did he borrow money from the mafia?”
“Not exactly.” I tear my eyes off her ass as I follow her to the office. “He did something even more stupid. He made a pass at the enforcer’s fiancée.” She’s already leery at the mention of the mafia, so I don’t mention that the enforcer is Leo, and the fiancée in question is Alina’s good friend Rosa. She’ll find out soon enough on her own.
Alina shakes her head without breaking stride. “Sounds like Simon.”
We have a file on Simon Groff. Alina met him in Tenerife two years ago, only a few days after her mother’s death. The two of them had a short vacation fling, and for some inexplicable reason, Alina decided to go into business with Groff.
Was she in love with him?
Is she still in love with him?
If she is, she’s a good actress. There’s nothing in her voice that betrays that she’s upset by my revelation. So far, every time the topic of Groff has come up, she’s sounded exasperated, not crushed. She doesn’t look broken up by the fact that she’s never going to see the man again.
Are you sure you can trust your instincts? After all, you thought Estela loved you as much as you loved her.
That stray thought jolts me back to reality. Alina’s feelings about Groff don’t matter, and neither does her motive for going into business with him. I meant what I told Daniel; I don’t have time to run a gym. I’m going to take a quick look at the books, make sure everything is fine, and then I’m out of here. I’m a silent investor and nothing more. I don’t need to be here in person. If Alina and I need to make decisions together, we can communicate via email. There’s no reason to see her again.
The office is a tiny room the size of a closet, wedged between the men’s and women’s changing rooms. It’s barely big enough for one person, let alone two. “Cozy,” I comment, keeping my tone even with effort. I don’t know why I’m annoyed by the thought of Alina and Groff squeezed into this space.
“That’s one word for it.” She waves me to one of the chairs. “The bookkeeper uses that computer. There’s accounting software on it, I think, but I don’t know which one. Numbers aren’t exactly my thing.”
She looks embarrassed by her admission, and I jump in to reassure her. “That’s okay, I’m familiar with most of them.” I nudge the mouse, and the monitor wakes up. “That’s how you had it set up? Groff handled the finances while you taught the classes?”
There’s a Post-It note stuck on the edge of the monitor with passwords on it. If Valentina saw it, she would flay us alive at the lax security. Our hacker takes her job extremely seriously. In one memorable instance last year, she was squabbling with Dante about how vulnerable our computer systems were, so to prove a point, she hacked into all our accounts. It was mortifying how easy she made it look.
I enter the password, the computer lets me in, and I navigate to the accounting app. That’s when I find my first surprise. “There are two sets of books here.” The fucker. There’s only one real reason someone has two sets of books, and that’s because they’re doing something fraudulent.
“What does that mean? Is that bad?”
Icy rage goes through me. Who was stealing from Alina? Her no-good partner, Simon Groff, who I just rewarded with a million euro payout or the bookkeeper he hired? Which one of them do I need to hurt?
“It’s not good,” I confirm. “You saw one set of books.” I navigate to the fake entries. “According to this statement, you lost fifteen thousand euros in the last three months.”
“It’s the renovation,” she explains. “It was expensive. Marcelo initially quoted ten thousand euros for the job, but it’s cost us twenty-five so far. I asked Simon about it. There was an issue with the septic runoff, and the city got involved because they thought our waste was running into the canals. It wasn’t, but Marcelo needed to hire a specialist to sort it out. The permits alone cost hundreds of euros.”
