He made a sound of disapproval, filling his plate as he did. Then sitting down next to her despite the fact it was a large table, and he could have sat anywhere.
She pretended like she didn’t notice. “Where will we run?” she asked between bites of yogurt.
“The beach is as good a place as any. A better workout, no?”
“I suppose.”
“How long would you like to go?”
“A few miles should be sufficient. You needn’t—”
“I usually do five if I have the inclination and the beach at hand.”
Five.She studied him more carefully. Without his shirt, it was obvious he must spend some time keeping himself in shape. It couldn’t just be running—though she imagined heavy cardio helped define the muscle tone, but there had to be some weightlifting. Something to make those shoulders as impressive as they were.
“Is five too many?” he asked, a note to his voice akin to teasing, and when she managed to tear her gaze from his arm, she understood why.
He knew she was ogling him. She refused to be embarrassed or tried to refuse anyway, but she felt a telltale heat in her cheeks. The embarrassment she tried to ignore intensified.
She never blushed. “Five sounds good for a start,” she muttered into her yogurt. “I will need to change.” She rose, leaving part of her breakfast untouched. She needed to start making sacrifices to maintain weight. Maybe after her bout next month she could go a little lax for a bit, but for now, she had to focus on who she would be for the fight.
Back in her room, she rummaged through her suitcase that wasn’t really hers, because Zervou had purchased it and filled it with the wardrobe he thought she might need. Luckily, she had brought her own athletic wear. She changed into shorts and a sports bra. At home, she would have pulled a T-shirt on over it, but this was the beach. It would be hot.
And you want to show off.
With that uncomfortable thought, she grabbed a light T-shirt and threw it on before lacing up her running shoes and heading back out to the main room to meet Zervou.
He was ready, if the laced-up running shoes were anything to go by, but he still wore no shirt.He is most assuredly showing off.She couldn’t help but remember that night she’d gone to his house in Corfu and his parting shot.
The deal is not about sex. But it is hardly off the table if you should decide you’re interested.
She could not afford to be interested. It would be a risk with absolutely no reward except a few seconds of pleasure—hardly reward enough when something like chocolate cake and the heady adrenaline of a win in the boxing ring existed.
So she would not allow herself to be distracted. This was training. If he wanted to flaunt his flawless body, that was his business and had absolutely nothing to do with her.
He led her out a back door onto a patio, then downstairs onto a beach. Farther down, she could see people with their bright umbrellas and towels crowding the sandy area, but down here there was no one but them. Since private beaches weren’t legal by any stretch of the imagination, she could only roll her eyes at the whims of the wealthy.
“I have a route all planned out. You only need to follow me.”
So she did. And he was right. The sand offered a more strenuous workout, which she was grateful for, but having a running companion meant her usual thinking time was shot. Because instead of thinking of anything she should, she was watching the way he ran.
He might not be a professional athlete, but there was a natural athleticism to his stride. A determined intensity to his run. To his everything. It echoed in her, these strange waves of heat and want and things she had not allowed herself to ever explore.
Men were dangerous to women. Sex was dangerous for women. She had been on guard her whole life.
But what if this was a respite to all thaton guard?
The idea of it, the possibility of it, caused a yearning inside her—one that she was all too familiar with. Because Ari’s life was a study in the things she wanted and couldn’t have.
Or had been.
Because Zervou was offering something else, wasn’t he? She was in Mykonos. She had dined well the past week. She had new clothes, and her mother was in a beautiful facility trying to heal.
It was a windfall of things she wanted, so why not…keep wanting and getting?
The deal is not about sex. But it is hardly off the table if you should decide you’re interested.
If she was considering this a rest from many of her obligations, knowing it would all be taken away once Zervou got what he wanted—which, luckily enough was what she wanted—why not enjoy it all? The vacations? The clothes? The money? The time not worrying about her mother or her debts?
