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She starts to respond. I watch the dots appear on the screen, but her next text doesn’t materialize.
Why?
Okay, fine. I’m mopping up the gym. The cleaners didn’t show up tonight. Evidently Simon hasn’t paid them for the last three months. I took care of it, but they can’t put us back on their schedule until next week.
Did you not hear what I said this morning about overwork? Why didn’t you ask for help?
You want to mop the floor in your Armani suit and handmade loafers? No? Didn’t think so. Don’t worry, I can handle it.
I bite back a curse and call Paulina, our cleaner. “Sorry to bother you so late, but I need you to clean a gym.”
“How many bodies?” she asks crisply.
“Not that kind of job.” I explain the situation. “Triple your usual rate,” I add to sweeten the pot. “Please, Paulina. It’s an emergency.”
“Fine,” she sighs. “And Tomas, it’s on the house. I took your investment advice and bought shares in that biotech company. I’ve already tripled my money. I owe you one. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Thank you. Alina will be expecting you. Do not let her help you, no matter what she says. She needs to sleep.”
Paulina laughs into the phone. “Ah, I see, it all makes sense. Don’t worry, Tomas, I’ll take good care of your girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I respond, but our cleaner’s already hung up. Great. Joao is going to have a field day with this. With a shrug, I switch back to my texts.
You are teaching a class tomorrow morning at seven. It’s one right now, and you need rest. I’ve arranged for cleaners. Paulina and her crew will be there in ten minutes. Let them in and go to bed.
That sounds suspiciously like an order. You’re not my boss, Tomas.
Go to bed, or I’ll have to come back and put you there myself.
And then, neither of us will get any sleep. I push that image out of my mind and down another glass of Del Barba’s precious Barolo. There are dozens of women here, beautiful, available, and willing, and instead, I’m hiding and texting my business partner, the one I can’t stop fantasizing about. What a fucking mess this is.
15
ALINA
It takes a lot of coffee the next morning to get me going. A lot. I can’t even peel my eyes open until the second cup.
As promised, I’d just put away my phone last night when there was a knock on the door. I opened it to see two women there, their arms filled with cleaning supplies. “Hello, I’m Paulina,” one of them said, giving me a speculative look. “And you must be Alina.”
Paulina refused to let me help. “Tomas told me to make sure you went straight to bed,” Paulina said with a twinkle in her eyes. “Don’t worry; we’ll handle it.”
So, I did. I even managed four hours of sleep. That’s not enough to face the day ahead, but it’ll have to do. Thankfully, my seven a.m. class doesn’t have any beginners in it. Even better, there are only five people signed up.
I shower, drink another cup of coffee, and head downstairs at a quarter to seven to unlock the front door. Sergio Diaz is already there. “Sorry, Sergio,” I apologize. “Have you been waiting long?”
“I just got here,” he says. “And you’re not late.” He gives me a wide smile. “Congratulations, Ali. What a coup. The moment word gets around, you’re going to be flooded with new members.”
The four cups of coffee haven’t been enough to jumpstart my brain because I have no idea what Sergio is talking about. It’s not my award; Sergio has already congratulated me for that. “What are you talking about?”
“Signing the Asset.” He says it like it’s a title. “I thought the smoothie machine was great, but getting him on board? I saw him fight last night. He went through the other competitors like a machine. Watching him was a masterclass.”
“Sergio, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The Asset,” he repeats. “I saw him here on Monday. I knew he looked familiar, but it wasn’t until I saw him in the ring last night that I realized who he was.”
“Hang on. You’re talking about Tomas? No, he’s not a fighter. He’s an accountant. He teaches at the university.”
“He’s definitely a fighter.” Sergio pulls out his phone. “Look.”
