Page 14 of The Fighter

Biting back a smile, I pretend I have no idea who they’re talking about. “Marcelo, the contractor?” I ask, switching to English. Sara and River are American. Their Italian is good for getting around Venice but not for anything deeper than that.

“Not unless your contractor rocks a suit like nobody’s business,” River replies. “God, I’ve never wanted to tear a jacket off someone faster. If he’s going to be teaching here, put me down for that class.” Her expression turns dreamy. “I’d like to grapple with Mr. Sex-on-a-Stick. I can picture it already. He’ll be all hot and bothered as we wrestle, and then, oops, his crotch ends up in my face. Don’t know how that happened, but hey, it’s right there…”

Her voice trails off suggestively, and I laugh out loud. There’s not a single coy bone in River’s body, and I love it. Sara rolls her eyes at her friend. “You’re married,” she points out. “And I’m not. If anyone’s going to be grappling with the mysterious hottie, it’s me.”

“The mysterious hottie is my new partner, ladies. And, I hate to break it to you, but he thinks fighting is a waste of time.” Tomas isn’t Sara’s usual type at all. “He probably runs for a Band-Aid when he gets a paper cut.”

Sara grins. “I can handle that; I nursed my ex through many man colds. When’s he going to be in again?”

“Wednesday morning,” I say shortly. Sara’s persistence has never annoyed me before, so I don’t know why I’m in a snit now. Whatever. If she wants to throw herself at Tomas, it’s none of my concern. She’s almost as tall as he is and beautiful enough to be a supermodel. The two of them would look good together. “He’ll be here at ten.”

10

ALINA

True to his word, Marcelo shows up at closing time with two of his guys. I feel guilty about them working through the night, so the next morning, I bring them a giant thermos of coffee.

I’m more than a little grouchy about being here. I don’t normally work on Tuesdays—it’s my only day off, and I guard it with ferocity. But Tomas wanted to get started on the books right away, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him prowl around my gym unsupervised.

“Thank you, Signorina,” Marcelo says gratefully, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “It’s very kind of you.”

“It’s the least I can do,” I reply, meaning every word. Marcelo’s helpers are hanging back, so I take it upon myself to pour the coffee into paper cups. “I also brought some pastries, so help yourself, please.”

The three guys have made a ton of progress in just one night. The old tiles have been removed, as have the old rotten subfloor and drywall, and it looks like they’re almost done installing a new subfloor. And that’s only the visible changes. “This looks really good.”

“It’s coming along,” Marcelo says, looking around with satisfaction. “Everything’s on schedule. We’re going to break for a couple of hours while things dry, and then we’ll be back at noon to start laying tile.”

“Okay.”

Tomas walks into the gym just then. I glance at my phone. Ten exactly. Gah. “There you are,” I say without enthusiasm.

His lips quirk. “Good morning to you too, Alina,” he says, sounding as if he’s trying not to laugh. He greets Marcelo and his men with a polite nod before turning back to me. “Don’t stop what you’re doing; I can get started without you.”

“No, you can’t,” I retort. “I always leave the office door locked, and only Simon and I have keys. Unless he gave you his copy?” I don’t know why I’m being bitchy. Maybe because he’s a little too good-looking. He’s wearing another bespoke suit today. His face is cleanly shaved, his hair is perfectly ruffled, and his eyes dance with laughter, and the combined effect makes my stomach do a flip. River’s voice sounds in my ears. I’d like to grapple with Mr. Sex-on-a-Stick. I can picture it already. He’ll be all hot and bothered as we wrestle, and then, oops, his crotch ends up in my face. Don’t know how that happened, but hey, it’s right there…

“Unfortunately, he didn’t,” Tomas replies calmly. “He wasn’t exactly thinking about the details when I went to see him.”

No, he was probably freaking out about the danger he was in. Richly deserved danger.

“Until I get a copy made, I’m at your mercy,” he continues with a disarming smile. “But you don’t have to stay once you let me in.” He lifts the now-empty thermos. “No coffee for me? I’m crushed.”

That smile should be illegal. When he smiles, he looks cocky, charming and impossibly sexy. He looks like the bad boy your mother warned you away from, one that would charm you into bed and give you the best sex of your life.

Except Tomas isn’t a boy. He’s a man. And judging from his choice of employers and the fear Marcelo seems to display around him, he’s a man with seriously dubious morals. That stuff is only sexy on TV.

“Don’t worry,” I reply. “I can always make a special cup for you.”

He laughs out loud. “Poison does tend to be the weapon of choice for women. I thought you’d be more creative, though.”

Marcelo’s team decides now would be a great time to get the hell out of the gym. Smart. They gulp down their coffees and flee. I wait until they’re gone before replying. “Sorry to disappoint you,” I say sweetly. “But don’t worry, Signor Aguilar. Before I increase the dosage to lethal amounts, I need to do some research on partnership laws. It would be a shame to kill you if your share of the business didn’t come to me.”

“It’s always important to pay attention to the details,” he agrees solemnly. His eyes are still laughing as he gestures for me to go ahead of him. “Signor Aguilar sounds so formal. Please, call me Tomas.”

Tomas and I work in silence for an hour. It’s excruciating. The two desks in the tiny office are arranged in the shape of an L, and the backs of our chairs touch each other. I go through my emails as best as I can, but I’m intensely aware of his every movement, and it’s difficult to focus. At some point, I lean back to stretch, and my hands hit his shoulders. The accidental contact sends a frisson through me. I make a week of social media content, pulling up photos of myself from my phone, and even though he doesn’t stop typing, I imagine I feel his eyes on my screen.

Finally, I need a break. I jump up and collide with the back of his chair again. “I’m going to get another cup of coffee. You want one?”

He’s frowning at the screen. “No, thank you.”

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