Another blow. More money lost. Azul was bleeding him dry, and some days, he had no idea how his father had kept it afloat at all. The only reason they hadn’t filed for bankruptcy was because he and Amira had dipped into their personal savings more times than he could count.
He glanced in the mirror and fixed his hair, still dented from the backward cap. Then he got out of the car and followed the GPS to Sofia’s office.
Ericeira’s port was tiny, picturesque. And right at the entrance was a blackboard with hand-painted letters and drawings, advertising upcoming boat tours with Salacia Project. He stopped for a second, genuinely impressed. Fully booked through mid-May.
Someone’s business was thriving. Maybe he should start taking notes.
He found her outside the office, wearing linen pants and a fitted tank top under an oversized flannel. Her long, wet hair clung to her shoulders, and she was deep in a heated conversation with a sturdy Portuguese man.
“João, I want to raise your rate. Where is the problem?” she huffed in a butchered mash-up of Portuguese, Spanish, and Italian.
“I don’t want more money,” the man kept saying in Portuguese, shaking his hands in protest.
“But I have it now! I have a sponsor; do you know what a sponsor is?” Sofia looked exasperated, and when she spotted him, her face lit up.
“¡Por fin!” She switched to Spanish. “Can you please explain to him I want to raise his pay? I don’t know if he’s understanding me or just being stubborn!”
Ilias laughed. “Hello to you too, habiba.Sure.”
“João, this is Ilias—” she paused, then sighed. “—my boyfriend. And Ilias, this is João, sailor of the Salacia team.”
Boyfriend.
He smirked, surprised by how easily she’d said it and how good it felt. It hit differently whenshesaid it out loud and it wasn’t just in his head.
“Prazer em conhecê-lo,” João greeted, shaking Ilias’ hand.
“Sofia’s trying to give you a raise, you know?”
“I understand perfectly,” João replied with a kind smile. “I just don’t want it. She should keep that money for her research.”
Sofia seemed to catch the gist of it because her posture deflated, her eyes softening. She looked on the verge of tears.
“Obrigada,” she murmured.
João nodded, patted Ilias on the shoulder, and walked away whistling, trailing a cat behind him like a sidekick.
“I wasn’t much help,” Ilias admitted with a chuckle.
“I really wanted to give him more. He’s got three kids. Well, adults now, but still… I just—” She sank into the chair outside the office.
Inside, the blonde girl he’d seen at the championship was on the phone.
He sat beside her. “So, how’s everything going?”
“Good. Actually… really good,” she replied, frowning as if she couldn’t believe the words herself. “We’re booked until mid-May. TerraVive already paid. I used it for new equipment, for the tours and the research. And I still have money for emergencies.”
“Then why the hell aren’t you smiling?”
She blinked at him, then laughed, low and breathy. “I have no idea. I think I’ve been in survival mode so long, I don’t know how to feel safe anymore.”
Por Dios, how much he understood that.
“Surf session?” he asked. “Pretty good swell at Praia da Ribeira d’Ilhas. Perfect for longboarding and for celebrating being out of survival mode.”
A hint of a smile curved her lips.
Don’t stare. Don’t scare her.
