Page 4 of Trust Me

“And for two?” she prompts.

“That’s a story for another day, Cami.”

I love my mother dearly, but our relationship is strained from years of her incessant pressure for me to be perfect.

It started when my parents found out they couldn’t have any more kids. They began enrolling me in as many after-school programs as they could.

Growing up, I took ballet, piano, swimming, chess, horseback riding, golf, and eventually, volleyball because I begged my father, who is easier to sway than my mother.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful that I could engage in so many different activities, to learn and expand my capabilities, and I still enjoy those things from time to time, but missing out on kid things?

Yeah, that hurt.

Since my schedule was always so busy, I missed birthday parties, shopping trips with my girlfriends, and sleepovers too.

Once I was in high school, they gave me a bit more freedom to stick with the activities I liked the most, chess and volleyball.

Then my grades became of utmost importance, and I still carry this stress with me to this day. It’s the reason why my mom made a deal with me that once senior year came around, I’d quit volleyball and focus on my studies.

Even if it meant losing my scholarship and now having to pay my way through school. She said it would be a humbling experience and a life lesson I’d need.

Except I think the life lesson I need to undertake is the one on making choices for myself and not my mother.

I sense warmth behind me that wasn’t there before, and when I turn around, my eyes land on a tall, strikingly beautiful man.

Elio Mazzo.

He’s looking at me with interest as he casually leans against what I’m assuming is the door to his office, one leg crossed over the other, matching his arms across his chest.

“I have to go, but I’ll talk to you later,” I tell Cami before hanging up and sliding my phone back into my pocket.

“What do you want?” I ask gruffly, wanting to get this interaction over with already. He looks smug like he knows something I don’t and I hate it because I’m used to being the smart one.

His eyes, a deep green, narrow slightly as he continues to stare at me. It’s unnerving, but I’ll never let him know that.

“A deal,” he surmises, pushing off the wall and slanting his head toward his office.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I fold my arms over my chest, not moving an inch.

“Come inside my office and we’ll talk,” he suggests, sounding casual yet demanding.

I raise an eyebrow, a snarky chuckle falling from my lips. “Okay, Elio. Let’s get a few things settled. Number one, I will never follow orders from you. Number two, it wouldn’t go well for you and my father if you tried to make a move on me. And number three, I’m pretty sure it’s grounds for termination for coaches to sleep with students.”

Elio remains stoic, his face not revealing a single thing for a beat. Then a widespread grin forms on his lips. “To answer your second and third issue, I have no interest in you romantically. I would never betray your father. He’s been a good friend and a mentor to me,” he says, but I’m not shocked.

I knew he and my father were close. Still, it doesn’t make the words sting less, reminding me of what my father told me three years ago.

“As for the first, I wouldn’t expect you to follow my commands unless we were fucking. But as stated earlier, that won’t ever pertain to you.”

The way he casually talks about fucking makes me want to blush while also cringe at the same time, because I’ve never had a conversation about sex with a guy.

Besides, who the hell does he think he is?

Mr. You-would-follow-my-orders-if-we-were-in-bed.

Yeah, okay.

“Anyways,” he continues, “I have a solution for your housing situation, but if you’d like to have the conversation right outside your dad’s office, that’s fine with me.”

---