Page 27 of Last Line of Defense

“Don’t give me that sour look, Clara,” he murmurs in my ear with a tone laced with irony.

Unable to take my eyes off Alicia’s date for even a second, I reply through clenched teeth in a cutting whisper:

“What kind of face do you think I’m making?”

“The face of a psychopath who’s seriously considering committing a crime.”

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, glaring at him over the rim of my glass.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course not,” he scoffs, taking a sip of his drink. “And I haven’t been watching you and Alicia turn every daily rehab session into psychological warfare for the past two whole weeks.”

I nearly choke on my sip of wine. I feel my cheeks flush.

“Hugo, please.”

“I’m just saying that maybe it’s time for you to stop pretending in front of the mirror that absolutely nothing is going on between the two of you.”

“It’s just that there’s absolutely nothing between that woman and me,” I lie brazenly, feeling my throat tighten, while inside my subconscious screams at me: I wish it were true. I wish you could convince yourself as damn quickly as you’re trying to convince him.

“Well, something in your drill-sergeant tone tells me you’re lying to me, but I really hope there’s nothing going on,” Hugo says, adopting a slightly more serious and professional tone. “You know how the sports tabloids are with internal rumors. I don’t think the board members would be the least bit pleased to find out that the summer’s star signing is wreaking havoc in the club’s medical facilities.”

Before I have a chance to refute his words and tell him to get lost, Alicia turns her head toward the bar with perfect timing and locks eyes with me. She smiles at me. And it’s certainly not a friendly or casual smile. It’s that roguish smile, brimming with outright provocation, that I know all too well.

Without wasting a second, she begins to walk purposefully toward me. Accompanied, naturally, by the woman in red.

“Dr. Valle,” Alicia blurts out as soon as she reaches me, standing right in front of me with an astonishing calm that’s downright suspicious. “What an immense joy it is to see you outside the walls of your medical office. I was beginning to seriously suspect that you only existed surrounded by treatment tables, injury reports, and veiled threats.”

“And I, for my part, was beginning to harbor the naive hope that you’d learned what it means to show up on time for club events. It seems we’re both living on nothing but illusions, Alicia,” I reply, pulling myself together and maintaining a light, biting tone, even though inside I feel my blood boiling.

The stunning woman accompanying her lets out a brief, velvety, warm laugh that breaks the tension. Alicia, far from being intimidated, is visibly enjoying our tense verbal exchange.

“Clara, meet Irina,” the forward continues with a hint of smugness, introducing us with a wave of her hand.

Irina extends her hand to me with an innate elegance that turns my stomach.

“I finally have the pleasure of meeting the famous Clara Valle in person. Alicia talks about you so much that I was already incredibly curious—really.”

That unexpected revelation forces me to fix my gaze directly on the team’s star player.

“Famous?”

Alicia shrugs with a feigned innocence that even she doesn’t believe.

“Look, I talk about you a lot because you’re my physical therapist, Clara. It’s a simple, strictly professional fixation focused on athletic performance—nothing more.”

I shake Irina’s hand with all the formal politeness I can muster.

“Well, I sincerely hope she’s only shared my best and most severe medical threats with you.”

“Well, those were most of them,” Irina replies, showing genuine amusement that throws me off balance. “Although I have to say, she’s also mentioned a couple of other pretty interesting details here and there about your recovery methods.”

I stare intently at Irina. Then I look over at Alicia. I come across as curt, sharp, and thoroughly uncomfortable.

“Nice to meet you, Irina. Enjoy the evening.”

Alicia picks up on my discomfort immediately, and far from calling a halt to the game or backing down, she decides to gloat and revel in my silent display of jealousy. I can see it clearly in the insolent gleam in her eyes, in that small, subtle sense of triumph her gaze exudes. She’s putting me to the test in front of everyone. And I, to my profound misfortune, am failing the test with a sense of dignity that could certainly use some improvement.