“Sofia Moretti Gómez, ¡ven aquí inmediatamente!”Alejandra hissed, quickening her pace in the direction she’d seen Sofia disappear.
Her shoes dug into the gravel as she walked faster than her shoulder probably appreciated, but she didn’t care. What the hell was that? What was Callum doing there? Why was he there? Why hadn’t anyone warned her?
And why did he have to look so good?
The shorter hair should not suit him that much. It wasn’t fair. The longer waves had made him look slightly unruly, a little dangerous. Now, with it cropped short, it framed his face in a way that made his jaw sharper, his eyes darker, more intense.
That had to be a trap.
A Sofia trap.
Because there was no way this was accidental. Sofia knew everything. About the books. About the messages she hadn’t sent. About the way Alejandra had checked her Instagram views like a teenager and pretended she didn’t care that Callum Evans was watching.
Her heart was still beating too fast.
It had been ridiculous—the way she’d frozen. Like a deer in headlights. Like she hadn’t faced down twenty-foot waves in competition without blinking. But seeing him there, solid and real and not confined to a screen or a memory, had knocked the air straight out of her lungs.
He had looked at her. And she had felt exposed.
Had he noticed the sling immediately? Of course he had. It was in full sight, ruining every attempt at hiding it under the coat. Had he seen the faint scars still healing on her forearm or on her face? The way she carried herself differently now, slightly tilted to compensate?
God.
Had he thought she looked pathetic?
She pushed the thought away, jaw tightening.
This was Sofia’s fault. It had to be. That innocent smile she wore when she pretended she hadn’t orchestrated something? Alejandra knew it too well. They had grown up together. She could read her like a tide chart.
“Hello to you too. Did you have a nice car ride? Were you able to rest?”
“Sofia,” Alejandra screeched.
“What?” Sofia blinked innocently. If Ale didn’t know her better, she might’ve fallen for it.
“What?What is Callum doing here?” she demanded in Spanish, trying to keep her voice down, failing miserably. That made Sofia’s grin grow even wider.
“You like him.”
“No shit, Sherlock. I fucked him, Sofia. I clearly like him,” Alejandra shot back, pointing at her dramatically with her right index finger.
“Then why are you here yelling at me, and not over there with him?” Sofia tilted her head like she was asking the most innocent question in the world.
Alejandra froze mid-rant. Paused. Took a breath.
“Because he looked at me, and I blanked. I didn’t know what to do. And my mind went straight to very inappropriate memories. And did you see him? He cut his hair, and he’s even sexier than before. Like, how is it possible to be hotter without the Superman hair?”
Sofia chuckled.
“Why is he here?” Alejandra asked again. She would’ve crossed her arms if the damn sling let her.
“Work. He’s promoting Lamina and leading some workshops.”
“Just that?” Alejandra narrowed her eyes.
“Work-wise? Yes.”
“Sofia…”
