Page 6 of Sweet Venom

Chapter 2

The Viper

I've just settled down on the couch in front of the TV with my Chinese take-out and a beer when the front door opens. It's been three days since I've been back in San Jose, and Sebastian and I have coexisted like passing ships in the night. I know he's been around, but I haven't seen him, and for that, I've been grateful, but it looks like my luck has finally run out.

His eyes briefly land on mine before he goes to the kitchen. Today, he's dressed super casual, so I don't get the impression that he came from the club. A month before I left San Jose, he took over Ellis's office, sleeping on the Murphy bed in there, since I had technically taken over his old room. While I slept in Ellis's room every night, I moved all my clothes and shit into the spare bedroom. It was also where I would get ready and spend time away from Ellis. I needed the separation. I'm not one of those women who needs a man to feel secure. In fact, I'm the opposite. I need my space. Having my stuff in another room that I felt was mine and that I could go sleep in, or simply be alone with my things, was needed.

Just like he did the other night when I ran into him, he grabs a bottle of water and takes off down the hall without so much as a passing glance. It's not until I hear the door slam that it's clear my presence here bothers him just as much as his does me. The problem is, I know why he annoys me. I'm a ho with dirty thoughts, or at least that's what I tell myself because to go any deeper than that fucking hurts.

I turn on HGTV, open my laptop, and dig into my food, determined to put Sebastian and Ellis out of my mind so I can focus on tomorrow's meeting with the crew. Day one at Blush was spent hauling out trash, day two finished with a demo crew, and the third was spent with inspectors who had to ensure shit was up to code before we started erecting walls and running new electrical for the space. Tomorrow, Mark is bringing in his crew to begin building out the place. I want to have my vision board ready to share with everyone. I'm aware they will all work off blueprints but showing them what the end result is expected to look like will help in the long run. I realize I'm probably being extra; this isn't standard protocol. These men are construction workers, not a design team. They are there to throw up drywall, tape, mud and sand, and all the other shit that is required to frame out a place, but I want them to know what's expected. Plus, I'm just fucking excited to share it with someone.

* * *

SLAM.

Fuck. I sit straight up and remove the sketch of the smoothie bar stuck to my face. I look around before realizing the sound that woke me up was the front door closing. What the fuck? I fell asleep at the coffee table with my takeout and beer. My eyes immediately go wide as I realize it's daylight out. Shit.

I reach for my phone, and it's dead. Double shit. I hit every key on my computer, willing it awake to see that it's 7:30am. Damn. I'm supposed to be on sight in thirty minutes. Well, I can thank Sebastian for the courtesy of a door slam the next time I see him. The prick.

Immediately I get up and dash to my bedroom to throw on a fresh change of clothes and wash my face. Definitely don't want to show up in yesterday's clothes with drool all over my face. The good news is that I got everything done last night before I fell asleep. After my face is clean, I whip out my dry shampoo, not bothering to run a brush through my hair. I don't have time for that. I quickly swipe on some mascara and nude lip gloss before heading to my closet.

Mark said my laid-back style would get me further with the crew. Lucky for me, no one needs to know it's not intentional today, seeing as how I wouldn't have time to dress the part even if I wanted to. I pick out my black jeans and pair them with an old cropped band t-shirt, leather jacket, and black riding boots. I throw my hair into a messy ponytail before running out to the living room to collect all my stuff.

"Get your shit together, Vi. You got this."

* * *

I'm rounding the corner to enter Blush when I slam into a rigid body. "Shit, I'm so sorry." Strong arms steady me, and a huge smile breaks out when I see who my victim is. "Tate, oh my god. What are you doing here?"

"I'm helping my friend Mark out with a new project. His lead foreman's wife went into labor last night, so he asked if I wouldn't mind keeping an eye on things."

"Wait, you're not at the gym anymore?" I met Tatum at Focus Fitness around the time I moved to San Jose six months ago. I had seen him around. He's hard not to notice. The man is tatted from head to toe and built like a brick house. His abs, or what I've seen peeking out of his tanks, are always on point, and the rest of him isn't bad either. Tate has that perfectly long unkept hair on top that constantly falls in front of his piercing light blue eyes, which steal a piece of your soul every time they meet yours. And when he flashes you that shy, timid smile that doesn't fit the confidence a man like him should wear, it's enough to melt your damn panties off. He's a catch. If his looks didn't draw you in, his boy-next-door swagger would. You know, the type who is nothing but a friend until suddenly he's your whole world.

"No, I'm still a trainer, but I moved around my schedule to help him out."

I was so caught up in seeing him again that the name he mentioned didn't even register. "Hold on, you said Mark, right? Are you working here?" I point to my place.

"Yeah, you know Mark?" His brows raise in surprise as he rocks back on his heels. I suppose our relationship would be somewhat odd, considering what Tate knows of me.

"Yes, this is actually my place, and I'm running late. So, I guess I'll see you inside." I hike my thumb over my shoulder and spin on my foot to head toward the front door, but I don't miss how his eyes follow me in the reflection of the glass storefront. Great.

When I enter, Mark calls, "Fiori, you're here. I got your message last night saying you had something you wanted to show me before we got started."

My nerves momentarily get the best of me as the crew turns to look at me. Each of them no doubt sizing me up with their intense glares. There are about fifteen guys on hand ranging in age from twenty to fifty. It's not the men making me nervous; it's my desire to get this right. To impress and show them I'm more than a girl spending daddy's money on a pet project. They don't realize I can relate to them more than they know, but because the Fiori name is on the deed, and I look too young to have earned my wealth, they see what society groomed them to see: a spoiled rich girl. Now I must break out of the box that everyone has put me in and redefine myself. Fuck.

"Yeah, um…." I lift my backpack off my shoulders and look for a place to set up. When my eyes spot the crate from the other day, I start heading toward it. "I have a presentation I wanted to show everyone."

I don't make eye contact with anyone, especially Mark. I'm sure they all think this is a waste of time and not something that concerns them, but it's important to me, so they can piss up a rope for all I care.

Once I reach the crate, I drag it across the floor to sit closer to the only partially-finished wall left in the place and set up my computer and mini projector. After I have everything ready, I rub my hands on my thighs and stamp down my nerves before turning to face the guys. When I do, I notice Tate has rejoined the group, and his presence and kind eyes help boost my confidence.

When I met Tate at the gym months ago, it was only after he had grown tired of watching this other guy shoot his shot to no avail. He could tell I felt bothered by the unwanted attention and came over to end my suffering by saying, 'I'd appreciate it if you stopped hitting on my sister. If you can't respect that, we can take this outside.' Most men would have used the old boyfriend card and the moment as an excuse to get close. The fact that he didn't felt refreshing. Needless to say, we were fast friends after that. He knows this gym has been something I've thought about for a while, and now he gets to witness me make it happen.

Clearing my throat, I start. "I know this isn't typical. I realize most of you will not be here for the finishing touches. You'll do your part of the work and move on to the next job. But this is my dream, and you all are part of it. I'm hoping that if you see my end goal and hear my pitch, you might think twice before cutting a corner, not checking the blueprints, or calling off because while yes, profits are always the end goal, this place is so much more than that."

I take the time in my presentation to educate the men while I have their full attention. It’s important that they understand why I’m creating a women-only gym. Sure, not everyone has a sister, girlfriend, or wife, but everyone has a mom. I want them to feel the fire in my veins to give women a safe space to work on building themselves up, filling their cups, and becoming the best version they can be without interference.

There's a term I like to use when talking about co-ed gyms: intimidation. A women-only gym creates a relaxed, wholesome approach to fitness. You don't have to feel like you're being judged. I don't care what size you are. When working out at the gym around men, there can be pressure to perform at your best. Even if you are not seeking male attention, the need to keep up can be present. You can literally feel their eyes on you at every station, judging your form, how much you lift, or how many reps you take.

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