Sofia shot him a glance, part surprised, part grateful.
“Yes,” Jamie replied coolly. “But this is the comeback event after the suspension. TerraVive wants you to be seen together. If you need help, hire someone for Salacia. You have the budget now.”
“In a week?” Sofia scoffed.
“There are tons of people who’d jump at the chance.”
“What’s the shoot about?” she asked, knowing she’d lost the battle.
“Beach. Swimsuits. Surfboards. Sexy couple energy.”
“Fine,” Sofia muttered, even though everything wasn’t fine.
“Do you have your passport ready?”
“Yes.”
“Perfect. Have fun at Snapper Rocks. See you at the shoot,” Jamie chirped before hanging up.
Sofia slumped in her seat; jaw tight. The car filled with a long, tense silence.
“I’m sorry,” Ilias said quietly.
“It’s not your fault,” she whispered, eyes fixed out the window toward the ocean. “I’ll post something on Instagram. I’m sure I’ll find someone. It just sucks that I have to tell Elvira she’ll be on her own.”
“Do you think she’ll mind?”
“No,” Sofia admitted. “But I do.”
His hand moved to her knee, fingers warm and steady as they curled gently around it, squeezing in silent reassurance.
“Think of it this way, somehow, it’s still for Salacia. If TerraVive keeps backing you after this PR stunt ends, that’s another 200k in your corner. And a hell of a lot more reach.”
Sofia bit her lower lip, her gaze dropping to where his hand rested. His fingers were strong, a silver ring catching the light, worn and engraved with symbols she didn’t recognize. Her skin tingled beneath his touch.
“I hate money,” she muttered. “I hate selling myself for it. It makes me feel… dirty.”
Ilias chuckled, low and soft. “Nah. That just means you’ve got values. And that’s why I like you so much.”
Something flipped in her chest. Or maybe her stomach. Or was that her vagina? She didn’t know. All she knew was that she was warm. Too warm.
“Ever been to Snapper Rocks?” he asked, smoothly shifting the subject.
“Nope. Is it nice?”
“It’s called theFormula 1of surf breaks,” he said, that familiar spark lighting up his hazel eyes. “Hollow, fast-paced sections. Freight train waves. I love it, it’s pure adrenaline.”
He had that same look Alejandra got when talking about waves that looked like they could swallow you whole. The same look that made her question whether surfers actually had developed their prefrontal cortex.
“Gosh, you’re all insane.”
“You surf too.”
“Yeah, but baby waves,” she smirked. “Soft, glassy baby waves where I can relax and not get barrelled and drown.”
“There’s so much more to it, habiba.”
He squeezed her knee again, pairing it with a playful smile, and her breath caught, again.
