13. Working Out
Working Out
Lucy
When I step out of the shower the next morning, I’m still deep into my ‘What happened at the club?’ scenarios. It’s probably the tenth one I’ve put together since last night, and they all end in one of two ways. Veronica in Elio’s bed, or the other way around.
I don’t see how the night could have gone any other way. They flirted all through dinner, she’s absolutely gorgeous, and they’re both single. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened at the end of the night.
Why did I en d up in this situation? How?
I came here for work, not to relive my worst memory from high school.
Can you guess how it went? Me crushing on a super-popular guy.
An uber-popular girl—much prettier than me—coming along.
Them kissing at prom while I sat in a corner, wishing I could swap bodies with her.
Actually, a similar version of events happened in college as well. Except it was a frat party, not prom. And when I finally landed the hot guy, thinking he might be ‘the one,’ he cheated on me with all the Veronicas of the world. Okay, maybe just the Veronicas of Chicago, but still.
I have to get a grip. I knew, even before coming here, that Elio was a player who went home with a different girl every night. Why did I allow myself to start crushing on him? His abs? His dimpled smile? His constant flirting? His jokes? All of the above? Probably that last one.
I hate that I fell for his charm. I should be focusing on work, or better yet, something that doesn’t even involve Elio, like finding out if I really do have family here.
No matter what happens today, I won’t let myself be roped into another evening with Elio. I’ll leave as soon as I can, then make a beeline for the town hall.
I finish getting ready, reluctantly putting on my spare pajama pants and a T-shirt—the closest thing I have to a workout outfit. As if facing Elio today wasn’t hard enough, we have to add exercising to the mix.
I only grab a small pastry and a to-go coffee from the breakfast buffet downstairs, even if it pains me to do so. There’s a high probability of me throwing up this breakfast in a couple of hours. Better safe than sorry.
It takes me just fifteen minutes to reach his house, despite driving at a snail’s pace, which earned me a few honks from locals in a hurry to get to work.
“ Ciao ,” Elio says as I’m getting out of the car. He’s waiting for me at the threshold, dressed in a sleek RM tracksuit.
I suck in the biggest intake of breath I can manage and flash a smile. “Hey. How are you doing?”
He looks me up and down as I walk toward him, and I freeze.
“Yeah. I didn’t exactly have a workout outfit. These are my pajamas.”
His eyes widen a little, and he scratches his neck. “Oh, okay. That’s fine. It’s perfect.”
He just stands there, not inviting me in, and I sway on my feet and press my lips together.
“Did you get back to your hotel okay?” he asks, his brown eyes darkening a shade. “Last night, I mean.”
My eyes dart to the floor. “Yes. All good. How was the rest of your night?”
He shrugs, turning around and inviting me to follow him inside. “We just grabbed one drink and called it a night. I was kind of tired.”
My heart kickstarts into a breakd ance, and I want to shut it down. I really want to. But the traitor doesn’t listen to my brain and just keeps dancing, having the time of its life.
He went home alone.
I know I shouldn’t care. At all. But I do. Oh, I do so much. Because even if my brain isn’t ready to accept it, I know I’m seriously crushing on Elio Spinelli.
Giacomo is already in the gym with everything set up, and the joy I was feeling is short-lived, quickly replaced by apprehension.
Actually, it’s more like flat-out fear at this point.
Fear that I’ll look like an idiot. Fear that I won’t be able to do half the things he asks of me.
Fear that my belly will hang out of my T-shirt while I’m doing one of the exercises.
“Are we ready to get started?” Giacomo chirps, jumping to his feet.
“Just a friendly reminder before we start,” I say, holding a hand up. “I do not exercise. Ever . The only thing I do in my life that’s remotely physical is walking to the L train for my commute. Oh, and a few stairs every day. That’s it.”
He chuckles, and Elio smiles, bumping his shoulder with mine. “You’ll be fine, Bella . Giacomo knows what he’s doing.”
“Right. I just wanted to make things crystal clear. I only had a muffin for breakfast, so this nice carpeted floor should be safe.”
They both laugh, but it’s Elio’s deep, resonant chuckle that echoes through the gym like a warm, rippling current
“No need to worry,” Giacomo says. “I’ve got you.”
And as it turns out, he does. He has me doing about twenty percent of what Elio is, and that works out pretty well.
When he sprints on the treadmill at a near-impossible speed, I jog at a leisurely pace.
When he lifts weights that look like they belong in a superhero movie, I stick to small dumbbells that feel more like oversized paperweights.
I take a lot more breaks than him, pretending I need to snap some pictures for the feature.
But really, I need these pauses to catch my breath and calm my racing heart.
The best exercise is definitely the ball throwing. I like that one a lot. My ball only weighs a couple of kilos, while Elio’s could probably double as a wrecking ball. Even if each toss requires a bit of strength, it’s surprisingly relaxing and freeing, like tossing all your stress away.
Working out with Elio also means having a front-row seat to watch his perfectly fit body at work.
Every movement showcases the precision and power built from years of training—his lean muscles flexing, his posture controlled, his focus unwavering.
It’s distracting, to say the least, but it’s definitely the most entertaining part of the session.
Once we finish all our routines, it’s time to cool down and stretch.
“So, did you have fun?” Giacomo asks, putting away the balls.
I finish my bottle of water. “You know what? I actually did.” I let out a long breath. “Thank you for preparing all this for me and including me in your session.”
He smiles. “Of course. I’m glad you had a good time.”
“I told you you would,” Elio says, flashing his boyish grin. “Same thing tomorrow?”
I hold a hand up. “We’ll see how my body handles the after-effects. For all I know, I might be unable to get out of bed tomorrow.”
They both chuckle.
I look down at my PJs. “Plus, this is my only athletic outfit, so . . .”
“Sounds like the perfect excuse to go shopping,” Elio says with a wink.
And I must say, he played that one really well. “Don’t tempt me.”
“It’s reasonable, no? You need something. You don’t have it. You buy it. Heck, I’ll buy it for you since I’m the one asking you to join me.” His gaze darkens again, and that smoldering look might have just given me a small heart attack.
I laugh. “How does that fit into my work here, exactly?”
He shrugs. “Not everything we do has to be job-related. Plus, I’m sure your readers will appreciate seeing me doing normal things. What’s more normal than shopping?”
I blink back, wondering if he’s serious about this. That shows how little he knows me. You never offer me a shopping spree. Ever . My smile turns into a full grin. “Sold.”