Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
Ivan
Amy Corrigan is the most infuriating creature on the planet.
For a year, I’ve sent offers, emails, invitations—nothing.
She ghosts me with such finality that it feels personal.
This is a stance I’m not used to. Ivan Harley always gets what he wants, both in business and in pleasure. Or he did, until her.
Over the last twelve months, I’ve watched her become one of the most explosive competitors on the bodybuilding circuit. She’s transformed. Every time she steps on stage, she owns it with unshakeable confidence. Her eyes locked forward. The trophy is hers before her first pose.
At night, I lie awake replaying her every move, the sharp flick of her ponytail, the disdain in her eyes. Sometimes I can’t tell if I want to argue with her or drop at her feet.
This woman has me acting like a hormonal teenager, and I haven’t even touched her. In passing, she smiles and is perfectly polite, but her dismissal of me makes me want her desperately.
It takes all my restraint not to run after her, grab her arm and demand why she pretends I don’t exist.
Normally, I don’t follow the competition circuit in detail; I attend enough to maintain a presence and keep the bodybuilding society’s decision-makers happy. Once my quota is met, I retreat to the shadows and watch from a distance.
Crowds make me restless. Applause means little once the lights dim. I’m happier bench pressing at midnight in a deserted gym, considering the next business deal. My next big leap. In the end, control is what I have, most of the time.
But Amy, she’s become the exception that has me attending every damn event just to watch her win. Just to see if this time, she’ll grace me with a glimmer of attention.
Harley’s Gym has hosted the key competitions in the British bodybuilding calendar for over a decade. Everyone who is anyone trains at my gym.
Years ago, I headed up the training team; now, my role is spent behind a desk or networking with those who can invest in my larger business. Three years past, we rolled out an expansion scheme across the country and opened five other establishments in major cities.
In London itself, I began purchasing smaller gyms. The thought behind this was to open bespoke training venues for our most demanding clients.
Some of the wealthiest will hire these venues for weeks, if not months, at a time, along with hiring my personal training staff.
It has proven extremely lucrative. People pay for tight lips, excellent results, and guaranteed discretion.
Perhaps it’s time I paid Ms. Corrigan a personal visit.
I haven’t been to her gym since I initially told her of my intention to buy her business.
She’d looked at me as if I was the vilest being on earth.
The conversation moved quickly from friendly to fierce, sexual energy buzzing between us as we debated.
I’d leaned across her desk, invading her space, and she hadn’t moved back.
Her shoulders squared, she flicked her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder before looking me up and down.
That ponytail still haunts me. I’ve imagined it coiled around my fist, me holding her head back, waiting for her permission to pull. Her knowing she has all the control.
“Listen to me,” she’d said last year in her office.
“Who the fuck do you think you are, waltzing into my gym and demanding I sell it?” She’d narrowed her eyes.
“Yes, I’m getting divorced, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to roll over and play dead.
Far fucking from it!” Pushing herself up to stand, she leaned forward, into my space.
“Ivan, you may be able to push people around with your expensive suits and no-shit talk, but I’ve dealt with enough crap these past years that you don’t fool me. ”
That’s when I realized why she’s infuriating but so damn intriguing. Most people cower when I raise my voice; she laughs. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t play. Amy sees right through my bravado and keeps walking. Whether I want her to or not.
“The man with the shiniest car and the biggest wallet doesn’t impress me, and it doesn’t give you the right to tell me what the fuck to do. Now leave,” she’d said, deadpan.
Then she smirked, dropped into her chair, and started tapping away at her keyboard with determination. After a few minutes, she paused and glanced up, “Still here?”
I’d left her office shaking, part rage, part want. I didn’t know which one would win, only that I’d be back.
So here I am. Again.
The first thing I see is the flickering light above the door, weeds pushing through the concrete steps. A handwritten timetable taped on the glass door, new classes handwritten next to cancelled ones.
The glass gleamed though, like it’d just been scrubbed. All signs of a business owner trying to do their best, but spread thin. Amy Corrigan’s empire, one gust of wind away from falling apart.
Walking into the reception area, the air smells of disinfectant and effort. Paint flakes from the wall as if shedding the past. A rip in the waiting sofa grins at me. A business homemade, underfunded, but still alive.
Through the glass, I catch her reflection in the mirror. She drops low, hips steady, control perfect as she leads an aerobics class. The rest move a beat too late, limbs awkward. She’s a swan amongst a gaggle of geese.
“Ivan.” Trey’s voice surprises me from behind, and I turn to smile at my old friend. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to see your boss,” I respond.
He smirks. “I doubt she’ll want to see you. You’re not exactly top of her Christmas card list.”
“Well, I’m glad it’s summer then. I won’t be expecting one.”
He chuckles.
“I want to speak to her about some business.”
He gives me a dirty look.
Trey and I have known each other for decades. We competed against each other as young men in weightlifting, then he worked for me on and off for years.
I’d been pissed off when he decided to leave again, not understanding why he would want to work in a tiny establishment like here instead of what I could offer him. It didn’t matter the wage increase or additional benefits I held under his nose, he refused to stay.
“If you want to maintain our friendship, I can’t continue to work here,” he’d told me. “You’re an asshole.”
“Personal business or actual business?” he questions, snapping me from my recollection of his resignation. I grunt, non-committal.
“Look,” he says, his voice firm. “Amy has been through enough shit these past few years. She doesn’t need you waltzing in and fucking her over. I know what you’re like; you love the chase. I’m telling you now, if you hurt her, you’ll have me to deal with.”
I laugh, and he scowls harder.
“Don’t worry, Shrek,” I jibe. “I only want to talk business.”
“Good,” he mutters, “because as much as I like you, most folks don’t. You’re the last person she needs to be getting entangled with.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, come on, Ivan. You and I both know you love chasing women. Especially the ones who don’t want you.”
He’s not wrong. Rejection doesn’t bruise me; it drives me. Every ‘no’ sharpens the need to succeed even more.
“But Amy is vulnerable. She might act hard and in control, but she’s only just getting her shit together. The last thing she needs is for you to swan in and sweep her off her feet, only to smash her heart to pieces.
Her ex-husband managed that twelve months ago. I can assure you, she doesn’t need a rerun of the experience.”
“I do not smash hearts,” I say.
He shakes his head. “Then maybe start proving it.”
We glare at each other until the chattering of sweaty, excited women interrupts us. They burst into the reception area, high on adrenaline.
Amy is bouncing at the back, her arm around an elderly participant, enthusiastically telling her how great she did in class.
“Maggie,” she squeals, “you almost touched your toes. What an improvement. We’ll have you bent double in no time. Mr. Hoskins isn’t going to know what to do with you now. You’re doing amazing.”
She winks at the lady beside her, who looks closer to eighty than seventy.
“Yes, dear, he’s certainly been impressed with my increased flexibility since taking your classes. I’ve been much more able in the bedroom. I’m ashamed I didn’t work on my fitness earlier in life. We could have enjoyed a much more satisfying sex life.”
Trey coughs, disguising a laugh. I choke on mine. Amy just smiles, warm and unbothered. It makes her even more mesmerizing.
The women file out of the gym, shrugging into coats as they push through the doors. The three of us watch them leave.
“Amy,” I say and hold out my hand. “Lovely to see you. Your ladies are certainly enthusiastic.”
She gives me a tight smile, ignores my outstretched hand, and replies, “Bex’s New You is a gym for all. How can I help you? Are you looking for some fitness advice? You’re looking a bit soft round the middle. Maybe I can help tighten things up?”
My ego winces as my hands automatically drop to my abs, which are as toned as they’ve always been. Trey snorts, then turns and walks away, chuckling to himself. Don’t rise to the bait.
“I came to invite you to dinner,” I blurt, and her mouth falls open. Mine almost does too; this was not in my plan. I wanted to arrange a business meeting, not a date.
“Dinner? You want to invite me to dinner?” she stammers. “Yes,” I say, squaring my shoulders and running with the idiotic comment that passed my lips. “We got off on the wrong foot. I’d like to fix that on Friday night.”
Dinner? What the hell was I thinking? If I spend a whole evening with this woman, heaven knows what I’ll do to her. Or want to do to her. She may be found in the River Thames or flat on her back in my bed if she pisses me off enough.
Her gaze flicks over me—slow, deliberate, like she’s assessing a threat. Then her mouth curves upward.
“Fine,” she says, shocking me. “You can take me to dinner. Make sure it’s a decent restaurant. I have standards.”
She pulls a card from her leggings pocket and hands it to me. “My details are on there. Email me.”
Our fingers brush for a second. I can’t ignore the spark. Then, she walks past me, straight into her office, the door clicking behind her.
I’m left standing like a lemon in the middle of the reception area, wondering how I ended up arranging a date with one of the most maddening women on the planet.