Page 15 of Spinning Out Of Control

He knew it was mine to take back.

He never even gave me the chance to make an offer.

When another man enters the room and I realize exactly who Jonathan sold all my dreams to, there is only one thing I can possibly say.

“You’ve got to befuckingkidding me.”

7

WARREN

This morning did not go to plan. I have to admit, I didn’t exactly anticipate walking into Spin Sync to a ticker tape parade. The deal had been quick. There were rumors that Jonathan Graham was looking to sell for months, and it had always seemed like a no-brainer to me. An investor would have to be an idiot not to want their hands on a burgeoning tech company that was this close to being worth billions.

It wasn’t until after Jonathan accepted my too-generous offer and the papers had been signed that I realized what I’d done. It had all happened so fast, and now there was no way Kira would believe that Ihadn’tknown I was to become her boss when I’d been delivering her multiple orgasms with my tongue on her clit and my fingers in her cunt a few short months ago.

I’ve known for weeks that the news might sideswipe her. I should have reached out. I should have called herand told her everything the moment the deal was done and I realized that I’d now be working with her after a one-night stand. She was a damn pest, though, refusing to give me her number before sashaying away from me that night at Adler’s wedding. And I certainly couldn’t ask him for it. He’s my employee now, too. I couldn’t tell him how I’d defiled his wife’s bridal suite on their wedding day in the most deliciously dirty moment of my life.

Instead, I’ve endured a week of sleepless nights leading up to today. I had hoped for understanding from Kira at best, awkward tension at worst.

No such luck. Jonathan’s office turned to ice when I walked through the door. I’d watched as the gears in Kira’s head began to turn and cringed when she spat out of the same perfectly plump, peach lips she once let me come all over.

“You, you over-roided, over-moussed, pompous, self-centered, uncreative, stupid, butthole-shaped piece of walking dog shit. You can go fuck yourself,”she’d sneered at Jonathan, punctuating each creative insult with a knuckle to his chest.

“And you, you old British twat-waffle. You can fucking watch him.”

That one had been directed at me.

I rub a hand over my shoulder, massaging the spot where Kira had purposefully pushed past me as she stormed out of Jonathan’s office. I’m sure there’s already a lovely purple bruise blooming there to serveas a reminder of my morning. The thought of one of her marks on my body again sends a shiver running through me. I still have nights when I can’t fall asleep without thinking about the bite marks she left on my neck in that bridal suite.

Sitting here in one of the production rooms, watching through the multiple screens as Kira teaches some sort of treadmill class in Spanish on the other side of the two-way mirror, that same warmth in my chest has returned.

“Largá todas las cosas que no te sirven. Las dejás acá, no te las llevas con vos. Cambiamos la energía el día de hoy. Y cuando nos bajamos de la cinta vamos a romper todo y a pasarla bien. La vida es una y cada día es una oportunidad para disfrutarla.”

My crush on this woman developed just like this–watching her at parties, observing her movements, the swing of her hips and the curve of her mouth. I thought she was gorgeous when she was dressed to the nines, styled and made up and spinning in her high heels, and she was.

But this version of her is just as intoxicating. The fun, bubbly, energetic cardio bunny adorned in brightly colored nylon, cheering on a room full of people as sweat drips from pores and hearts beat out of chests. It’s all I can do to keep my tongue from lolling out of my mouth.

I wish Kira’s looks were enough to explain the enigmatic stranglehold that she has on me, but I’ve neverbeen someone whose senses are warped by beauty. I can appreciate a lovely work of art, but I’d never stand in front of a portrait and find myself moved to tears. Besides, to say that the woman is simply luminous would do her a disservice. She’s charismatic. Funny, witty, quick with a joke or a biting comment. She exudes confidence and compassion and complexity.

The woman’s got chutzpah.

“And here is where we feed the scripts over to the instructors. They provide their talking points to us along with their playlists and class plans and we send it through to their screen. That way, they can hit any points or topics they want to bring up during class and remind themselves of the intervals and roadmap they’ve programmed. Some instructors write themselves full scripts to follow, while others will just give themselves a few bullets or motivational quotes to throw out from time to time. This all gets sent over in real time, but the class plan and playlist are pre-programmed. That way in-studio and at-home riders alike can see whatever the instructor wants them doing on their screens.”

The man I’ve been shadowing for the last few hours goes on about the different functionalities of the studio production. It’s a bit like being on a television set.

Actually, no, scratch that. It’s exactly like being on a television set, except here, the live audience is sweating and cursing the host instead of applauding.

My acquisition of a company like Spin Sync issomething I’ve eagerly anticipated for years. The elation I’m feeling from standing in this room is intense, and despite what the organ beating in my chest–or the one hanging between my legs–would have a person think, it has very little to do with the woman pumping her arms and shaking her hips like Shakira as she power walks in the other room.

Spin Sync combines some of my greatest passions in life–health, wellness, technology, and pissing my dead father off.

Maybe that last point is a bit passive aggressive of me, but I don’t care. The man was a piece of garbage who fucked around on my mother and treated me like shit from the time I was old enough to understand the words he said to me. The only good thing he ever did for me besides providing half of my genetic material is leave me a fuck ton of money when he finally died while I was away at university.

He would have wanted me to go into the family business–finance of sorts, otherwise known as fucking over the working class to make ourselves even richer, but I would sooner die than follow in his footsteps.

After school, I moved from London to Los Angeles thinking I might give acting a go. I booked a few low budget, made for TV movies and given the size of my bank account, I could have made a career out of being a shit actor in shit films until Hollywood decided I was too old and ugly to put on screen any longer. But I had too much self-awareness to spend my life fuckingaround at something I wasn’t great at just because my dad would have hated it.

Instead, I made my way up the coast to Palo Alto, where I started putting my money into tech start-ups and businesses that were hoping to shape the kind of future I want to see for the world. Renewable energy, accessibility tools, health products and innovative medical supplies, and companies that create housing and job opportunities for low-income and unhoused communities are the kinds of things I’ve spent the last twenty-five years of my life investing in. Every so often, I came across a young buck with an idea that wouldn’t change the world but would change a market for the better, and they’d get my money as well.

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