“Indeed.”
“For what it’s worth,” he said, bumping her shoulder lightly, “I think you’ve already proven you’re a badass. You’re agreat business owner, a brilliant scientist, a good person, and extremely sexy. I mean, he definitely lost there.”
Sofia’s cheeks flushed.
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Not even a little.”
He grinned. “Actually… I wanted to ask for your advice.”
“On?”
“My father’s business. The one I inherited when he died.”
Sofia stopped walking. She turned to face him, her brown doe eyes suddenly warm and soft.
“I didn’t know your father passed.”
“It’s alright. It’s life.”
“Don’t be cynical,” she warned. “It doesn’t suit you.”
He smirked.
“And what does suit me?”
His voice dropped an octave. He stepped closer. The green sundress beneath her suede jacket hugged her just right, and fuck, ever since he saw her on that stage, he hadn’t been able to stop imagining unzipping it slowly.
“This,” she whispered, eyes fixed on his lips. “Being cocky, and not respecting personal space.”
“I love invading your personal space,” he murmured, stepping back just enough to keep her on edge. “So… business question?”
“Go on. I’m all ears.” She kept her voice light, but her eyes lingered a moment longer than necessary.
He told her everything. The death of his father. The will. The unwanted inheritance. How Amira and he had tried to keep Azul afloat under his father’s conditions. He didn’t tell her how he'd spiraled into depression. How much it had hurt to paddle out knowing his dad wouldn’t be watching anymore. He told her about Ghita, the proposal for surf retreats, and how it might be the only way to save Azul.
They sat on the little stone wall above the beach, their feet dangling toward the sand. His eyes moved to the ocean. There were no surf-worthy waves today.
When he looked back at her, Sofia looked thoughtful. She bit her bottom lip. Slowly. Could she do anything without turning him on? This fake relationship was absolute torture.
“Right now, do you earn anything?”
“We lose money.”
“Then closing it would mean losing everything. But changing it? Partnering with locals, targeting international surfers… that could work. You’re what, thirty-three?”
“Yup.”
“You’ve got time but you can’t rely only on surfing. One injury and it’s over. I think Ghita’s plan has potential. Morocco already attracts a lot of surfers. By marketing it as yours, I feel many people would go there just to try to meet you.” She smiled. “What does your gut say?”
He sighed. “I just wish it had worked, how my father imagined. It didn’t, and I feel like I failed him.”
Her hand found his. She squeezed. Soft, grounding. The first time she initiated touch. His heart gave a dangerous kick.
“I think your father would be proud of how hard you’ve tried to honor him. But at some point, legacy can’t come at the cost of your future. Maybe it’s time to build something new, from the roots he gave you.”
Ilias turned toward her, a lazy smile curving his lips before he even realized he was moving. Then, without a second thought, he slipped an arm around her and drew her against his chest.
