“Exactly!You’re following instructions without being difficult! What, no comment on how long it took me to set up the program? How incompetent I am?” He frantically gestures to himself. “And see these tan lines—no quip? EvenIsee they’re ridiculous in this fucking country. What iswrongwith you? Did someone die? Areyoudying?”
Jesus, Italians and their goddamn drama. “No one died, and I’m not dying. Everything’s—fucking—fine.” I resume my reps.
Gio gives me a dubious stare. “Right. For the first time since you had the good sense to hire me, you listen, and this means you arefine?”
“Iam!” I snap.
“Uh-huh. How about this. I make you a protein shake, and you regale me of tales with your so-calledfineness.”
“There’s nothing to regale.”
But Gio’s already making his way over to the smoothie bar and zipping open the duffle bag he brought. He pulls a blender out from beneath the counter, gathers protein powder, kale, and several decidedly unappetizing ingredients and tosses them into the blender.
“Is your contract not renewing?”
“No,” I snap, finishing my reps. Not that I know of, at least. Team management was well on their way to leaving me in the dust, but last race, I woke the fuck up. If I keep going as I am, and if I manage to get apodiumthis season, I’ll likely get a renewal offer.
“Ah. So it’s your grandparents, yes? They are sick?”
“No!” But my reply is drowned out by the loudness of the blender as my asshole trainer turns it on. Gio gives me a smug smile. I’ll give the man this; he knows how topiss me off. He stops the blender. “Come on, tell me. You will feel better.”
“I don’t—” the asshole turns the blender back on. I raise my voice. “I don’t want to—” Fucker turnsupthe blender, making it even louder. “I don’t want to fucking talk about it!”I shout… just as he turns off the blender.
“So aggressive,” he mocks. “Yes, it sounds like there is nothing to speak of.” He slowly arches an eyebrow. “Right?”
“Yes,” I snarl. I don’t want to think about Victoria, let alone discuss her. All I’ve beendoingis thinking about her, when she obviously doesn’t give me the same courtesy. We’ve barely exchanged two words since the maintenance room incident.
Gio gives me an astute glance-over. “It is a woman,” he decides. “Nothing else would have you in this state. Tell Uncle Gigi. He will make it better.”
“You sound like a pervert when you talk about yourself in third person and use the worduncle.”
“And you sound in denial. So.” He pours the smoothie into a glass and slides it across the counter.
I detangle myself from the machine and sulk over to him, slumping onto a bar stool and staring at the vomit-green contents of the glass instead of drinking it.
“You brood, you deny, but the truth is clear. Who is she?”
I say nothing, giving the glass a sniff and grimacing.
“Could it be the girls from last season? Lets see here… is it the blonde, with those gorgeous hips? No, you bored of her quickly. Hmm… the redhead, then? With armpit hair longer than mine?” He pauses, gazing at me. “Not her either? Well, it could be thebeautifulItalian girl with those big brown eyes. I was almost jealous of that one.” When I sigh, he folds his arms over his chest. “Who is it,then? She must be very special to have you like…this.I am growing worried.” He spends several moments watching me.
When I don’t respond, he decides to resort to personal anecdotes. “You know I’ve fucked my way through half of Monte Carlo, yes? It is easy to come and go for us; my job is the best excuse. I’d always have to leave the country in a matter of days.”
I scowl. “I have no interest in your sex life.”
He continues as if I hadn’t spoken, brows furrowed with contemplation. “The sex became transactional after a time. Meeting a girl, realizing she is only a one-night type. Just a fun time to take your mind off of stressful clients,” he casts me a pointed look, “before moving on.”
“Are you done?” I snap.
He stares at me. “I never lose work time or think twice about the women I’ve loved and left over the years. Neither do you—not with a single one. There has never been the…” He pauses to search for the right word. “…Spark. Nothing that makes us want to stay or keep in touch. Now, you—a world-famous driver who can have anyone he desires—are sitting here, not doing your workout or drinking your shake. Who the hell is taking so much time in your head?”
The most beautiful, witty, and infuriating vixen I’ve ever met—who doesn’t even have totryto be the most eye-catching woman in any room.If I said that aloud, Gio might do something dramatic like quit on the spot. On second thought, considering the way he’s grilling me, that doesn’t sound like such a bad thing.
“How many times have you fucked her to be so enthralled?” he wonders.
None.
I don’t realize I’ve said the word aloud until my trainer’s eyes widen almost comically, and he gapes at me. “None?What do you mean,none?How can this be?”
