Chapter 13
Thirteen
Delilah peeled off her sports bra with the air of someone shedding battle armour. It landed on her bathroom floor with a wet slap. Her entire body ached. Not just the usual post-Pilates glow. This was full-body sabotage. Even her toes felt tired.
She stared at herself in the mirror. Red cheeks, sweat-matted fringe. She looked broken.
She turned on the shower, stepped in, and groaned as the hot water hit her lower back like a grudge.
Delilah closed her eyes and leaned her head against the tiles.
She could still hear the scrape of Cassie’s voice—low, flat, unimpressed.
She gave compliments as if they cost money.
And Delilah had wanted one. That was the most irritating part.
She’d been standing there, legs aching, ribs burning, waiting for a crumb of praise like a schoolgirl hoping to get a gold star.
By the time she was dry and dressed, her legs had stiffened up like concrete. She winced her way to the sofa, phone in hand, and called her agent.
‘Ashley. She doubled it.’
A pause, then Ashley’s voice crackled down the line, maddeningly calm. ‘Doubled what?’
‘The session. Two hours. Two. I was supposed to survive one, maybe crawl out alive. She stretched it into eternity.’
‘So she pushed you. That’s what you need, isn’t it?’
‘I wanted training, not… medieval punishment,’ Delilah said, pressing a hand to her thigh. ‘I thought my lungs were going to crawl out of my body and flee.’
‘And yet,’ Ashley said, ‘you didn’t quit.’
Delilah opened her mouth. Closed it again. It was true. She didn’t. And wouldn’t. She just wanted someone to tell her she was doing OK, and she wasn’t about to crowbar a compliment from Cassie.
‘Well done for not quitting,’ Ashley said.
OK, there was the compliment.
‘Thanks,’ Delilah said, frowning. The compliment hadn’t satisfied her remotely.
‘What’s wrong? I just said, well done.’
‘I know. I appreciate it,’ Delilah told her. ‘God knows, I’m not getting anything out of Cassie Thorne in that department.’
‘Is that what you want? You want her to pat you on the head?’
‘No,’ Delilah said. ‘I’d just like the occasional acknowledgement of my efforts.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Ashley said slyly.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I mean, maybe you like working for Cassie’s approval just a tiny bit.’
That made Delilah very glad Ashley couldn’t see her face. Because the stupid thing was turning pink. Was that true? Did she like working for Cassie’s approval?
She really didn’t have the time to think about things like that.
She groaned and tipped her head back against the sofa. ‘Ashley, cut that out. This is a professional situation.’
Ashley laughed. ‘Ooh, nerve plucked. I predict you’ll either fall in love with her or beat her to death with a racket.’
Delilah hung up.
She tossed her phone aside and stretched out gingerly, every muscle singing in protest. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she could still hear Cassie’s voice: Split stance. Racket up. Again.
She closed her eyes and mouthed silently, just once: ‘Again.’
Then she reached for the ibuprofen.