Sofia had allowed him to hold her hand, stroke her hair, even lean in for a few cheek kisses, ones he desperately wanted to turn into full, open-mouthed kisses. She looked like someone who knew exactly how to kiss. And move her tongue.
“Do you want a gelato?” Sofia asked as they walked, still fingers intertwined, to his complete and utter happiness, after waving goodbye to Amélie and Lidia.
“I saw a stand down the road.”
“Was it Italian gelato?” Sofia raised an eyebrow, studying him like she expected him to pass a national loyalty test.
Ilias sighed.
“Please tell me you’re notthatItalian cliché, acting like everyone else’s food is garbage.”
“Which is true,” Sofia grinned, spinning around to stop in front of him. “Italian food is the best in the world. And this relationship can’t go on if you don’t acknowledge that.”
“And Spanish food?” he challenged.
“It’s good. But Italy wins.” She crossed her arms. “So? Is this a deal breaker for our relationship?”
“Let’s find this Italian gelato,” he said in his best attempt at her accent, grabbing her waist and twirling her around before hugging her from behind and kissing her cheek. Then, with his lips brushing her ear, he whispered, “So you’ll shut the fuck up about Italian food supremacy.”
Sofia chuckled, leaning back into him, for just a second. Then, as if reality slammed into her, she pulled away.
Right. Fake.
After some heavy Googling on Sofia’s part, they found the perfect Italian gelateria in Biarritz. He’d been to the city several times before and loved the vibe. It reminded him of a European San Diego, kissed with Parisian architecture and locals who weremuchnicer than Parisians.
As they walked along the promenade, licking their cones, Ilias decided to ask the question that had been burning in the back of his throat.
“So… who was the gilipollas?”
Sofia pressed her lips together. Then sighed.
“Thomas. Ex-boyfriend. Now president of Neptune Marine Research, where I used to work like a slave. And yes, big gilipollas.”
“He treated you like shit,” Ilias said. “I need the backstory. I’m not going to tiptoe around it. I’m not Alejandra.”
“She doesn’t tiptoe around anything,” Sofia reminded him.
“True.”
Ilias tried—tried—not to notice how her tongue swirled around her gelato. Or how her cheeks hollowed when she sucked at it.Joder.He was so fucked. This was not the time or place to get hard.
“Thomas and I met during my master in San Diego. I didn’t like him much at first, but he grew on me. We were together for eight years. He comes from one of those golf-and-Hamptons, money-shitting American families.” She gave a dry laugh. “When we both got hired by Neptune, I was proud. Later I found out his father pulled strings to get me in.”
Her voice faltered. She looked out toward the ocean.
Blue Mind.
“I worked my ass off. Every research, every paper… Thomas co-signed. When the president position opened, I went for it. I thought I had the skills. The experience. But of course, Thomas got it. During a fight, he told me the only reason I was even there was because of him. That without his family, I’d be nothing. And all my research belonged to Neptune. Which meant… tohim.”
Her voice dipped.
“My world crumbled. Everything I’d built just shattered. So, I resigned. Fled to Ericeira where Elvira had just moved, and promised myself I’d prove I could do things my way, without Thomas, without Neptune, without anyone handing me a damn thing.”
“And the influencer stuff?”
“I started sharing my work online a couple of years ago. Some diving videos went viral. I enjoyed exploring the creative side, which I missed in the lab. Thomas hated it. He said it was low-class. Poor taste.”
“Gilipollas,” Ilias muttered.
