“I’ll be there.”
Alejandra leaned in for another affectionate goodbye hug and left, the wind catching the hem of her linen pants as she disappeared through the roads of Ericeira.
Sofia’s eyes drifted back to the ocean, surprisingly calm that morning, as if it knew that its work for the competition had been done. The waves rolled in gently, the horizon bright and pale, the water that early-spring turquoise that looked as cold as it was. A few seagulls wheeled overhead. The sunlight flickered off the sea’s surface like broken glass.
It was her day off.
So, she did the only thing a business owner should do at that moment: she reopened her laptop and returned to that stupid Excel sheet.
Anything to drown out Alejandra’s words.
Because she wasn’t ready. Not for Ilias. Not for sex.
Not for anything. She had been scarred too deeply. And she had no idea if she’d ever feel like a normal thirty-two-year-old again.
8
ILIAS
el ingeniero - Alleh & Yorghaki
He had fucked up.He knew that.
Even though his sister had vouched for him, the USL hadn’t believed his side of the story. Points down. Title stripped. A plummet in the rankings that dropped him to tenth, while he waited to find out how many events he’d be out. Because he wasn’t naïve enough to think he was going to Bali.
After the intercom rang, he took a deep breath and opened the door.
His team was scattered across the living room. Amira was sprawled on the couch, Coach stood nervously near the window, and Gretchen, Coach’s wife and jack of all trades, sat at the table sipping her tea with Jamie, the principal cause of his nervousness. If TerraVive pulled out of sponsoring him, he was royally fucked. Not just for paying for travels, but for Azul, his father’s business in Morocco. Some brands had reached out to him before he punched Steven, but he was fairly certain thatnow, because of his stupid action, they weren’t going to offer him a contract. And he needed contracts, because those meant money, and without it, Azul was going to close for sure and his father’s legacy–one he still didn’t understand why he kept trying to save–was going to be lost forever. Probably, the only person who would cheer for it would be his mother. She had all the rights to be pissed at a man who had loved her home country more than he loved her.
“This better be important. I was having a peaceful breakfast with my best friend,” Alejandra announced, raising an eyebrow.
“You should’ve told her to come. Would’ve brightened my very horrible day,” Ilias replied with a weak smirk, pulling her into a hug.
“It’s just the result of your own actions.”
“Please, don’t judge me too.” He practically begged.
Her expression softened. “I’m sorry. But Ilias... you did fuck up. Is Jamie here?”
“Love the honesty,” he mumbled, nodding toward Jamie in conversation with Amira, Coach, and Gretchen. It felt like an intervention. Maybe it was.
“We need to rebuild your credibility, and your ‘good surf guy’ image,” Jamie said firmly. “TerraVive doesn’t want to be associated with someone who resorts to violence.”
“Are they pulling out?” Alejandra asked, suddenly serious, dropping onto the couch next to Amira.
“Not yet. But it depends on the sanction,” Jamie replied.
“Right now, he’s lost the event title, earned zero points, and we’re waiting on the suspension ruling.”
Amira rested her head on Alejandra’s shoulder as Ilias moved toward the floor-to-ceiling window facing the Atlantic. Outside, the ocean lay calm, so unlike the storm inside him. The sky was a pale, washed-out blue, thin clouds stretched across it. Below, waves rolled in slow sets, breaking into foam on the sand.
“What’s there to deliberate?” Alejandra asked. “Amira already testified in your favor. Steven’s an asshole.”
“I told them to check the footage. Someone must’ve recorded it. He baited me. He insulted me, Amira, and Sofia.”
“He’s an asshole,” Jamie agreed. “But TerraVive doesn’t care about the context. If you’re suspended for more than two events, they might drop you.”
“Aren’t you TerraVive?” Alejandra asked.
