Chapter 13
ILIAS
Energía Bacana – Sebastian Yatra
“What’s the problem now?” Ilias answered Ghita’s call from the car, dread already coiling in his chest like a storm surge.
He’d told his cousin to call only if it was urgent. And fuck him, he couldn’t go one day without a new disaster.
The legacy his father had left him might’ve been a brilliant idea on paper, but in practice, it was a logistical and financial nightmare.
His dad had had the vision, sure, but zero business sense.
And now Ilias was left to clean up the mess.
He’d already poured too much of his own money into Azul, and on days like this one, he wondered if he was just throwing cash into a fire.
“Someone broke into the container last night. The one where we keep all the surfboards—”
“Please don’t finish that sentence…” he groaned, steering the car down toward the port where he was meeting Sofia.
“They came prepared.” Ghita sighed. “I’ll send you the photos.”
“Do we have footage?” he asked sharply. “I didn’t blow thousands of dirhams on security for it to fail.”
“I’ll send those too. But before the feed cuts, it’s blurry. Not much to see.”
She sounded as gutted as he felt.
“Fine. Email me everything. I’ll forward it to the lawyers. I’ll break the news to Amira. Don’t worry about that.”
“Okay. I already spoke with the police. They said they’ll do their best.”
He let out a long breath, pressing his palms into his eyes once he had parked.
“Thanks, Ghita. I’ll add something extra to your paycheck this month.”
“There’s no need—”
“You’re doing more than I ever expected. Let me do this, at least.”
A small silence, then her voice softened. “You’re the best boss in the world, you know that?”
“Now go file the report, and catch some waves. Seriously.”
She chuckled before hanging up.
Still parked, Ilias fired off a quick message to his sister with the bad news. His mother had made it pretty clear that she didn’t want anything to do with Azul, so he refrained from bringing it to the group chat.
Another blow. More money lost. Azul was bleeding him dry, and some days, he had no idea how his father had kept it afloat at all. The only reason they hadn’t filed for bankruptcy was because he and Amira had dipped into their personal savings more times than he could count.
He glanced in the mirror and fixed his hair, still dented from the backward cap. Then he got out of the car and followed the GPS to Sofia’s office.
Ericeira’s port was tiny, picturesque. And right at the entrance was a blackboard with hand-painted letters and drawings, advertising upcoming boat tours with Salacia Project. He stopped for a second, genuinely impressed. Fully booked through mid-May.
Someone’s business was thriving. Maybe he should start taking notes.
He found her outside the office, wearing linen pants and a fitted tank top under an oversized flannel. Her long, wet hair clung to her shoulders, and she was deep in a heated conversation with a sturdy Portuguese man.
“Jo?o, I want to raise your rate. Where is the problem?” she huffed in a butchered mash-up of Portuguese, Spanish, and Italian.
“I don’t want more money,” the man kept saying in Portuguese, shaking his hands in protest.
“But I have it now! I have a sponsor; do you know what a sponsor is?” Sofia looked exasperated, and when she spotted him, her face lit up.
“?Por fin!” She switched to Spanish. “Can you please explain to him I want to raise his pay? I don’t know if he’s understanding me or just being stubborn!”
Ilias laughed. “Hello to you too, habiba. Sure.”
“Jo?o, this is Ilias—” she paused, then sighed. “—my boyfriend. And Ilias, this is Jo?o, sailor of the Salacia team.”
Boyfriend.
He smirked, surprised by how easily she’d said it and how good it felt. It hit differently when she said it out loud and it wasn’t just in his head.
“Prazer em conhecê-lo,” Jo?o greeted, shaking Ilias’ hand.
“Sofia’s trying to give you a raise, you know?”
“I understand perfectly,” Jo?o replied with a kind smile. “I just don’t want it. She should keep that money for her research.”
Sofia seemed to catch the gist of it because her posture deflated, her eyes softening. She looked on the verge of tears.
“Obrigada,” she murmured.
Jo?o nodded, patted Ilias on the shoulder, and walked away whistling, trailing a cat behind him like a sidekick.
“I wasn’t much help,” Ilias admitted with a chuckle.
“I really wanted to give him more. He’s got three kids. Well, adults now, but still… I just—” She sank into the chair outside the office.
Inside, the blonde girl he’d seen at the championship was on the phone.
He sat beside her. “So, how’s everything going?”
“Good. Actually… really good,” she replied, frowning as if she couldn’t believe the words herself. “We’re booked until mid-May. TerraVive already paid. I used it for new equipment, for the tours and the research. And I still have money for emergencies.”
“Then why the hell aren’t you smiling?”
She blinked at him, then laughed, low and breathy. “I have no idea. I think I’ve been in survival mode so long, I don’t know how to feel safe anymore.”
Por Dios, how much he understood that.
“Surf session?” he asked. “Pretty good swell at Praia da Ribeira d’Ilhas. Perfect for longboarding and for celebrating being out of survival mode.”
A hint of a smile curved her lips.
Don’t stare. Don’t scare her.
“Sure. My board’s in the car.” She stood, brushing off her pants, and held out her hand, adorned with gold rings, to him. “Let me introduce you to Elvira.”
He took it, pulling him to his feet. “She knows?”
“About the sponsor? Yeah. About the PR stunt? Nope. So, we’re pretending.”
The way she looked up at him through her lashes made his mind spiral towards very unholy thoughts. Their fingers stayed linked longer than necessary.
“And why didn’t you tell her?”
He pulled her closer, his arms slipping around her waist until their hips brushed. Her hands instinctively caught his shirt, holding tight.
“Because she can’t keep a secret to save her life. She’ll thank me for sparing her.”
He dipped his head, brushing his lips near her ear.
“So… we’re already faking?”
Sofia swallowed. “Y-yes.”
Joder, the way her breath hitched.
“Good,” he murmured. “Let’s say hi to Elvira, then.”
Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, they entered the office.
It was very her. Natural light, maps, sketches of marine life, ocean photos pinned everywhere.
A space that felt lived in. Fiercely loved.
It reminded him of her apartment in the center of Ericeira.
He hadn’t had time to study it in detail, but it was exactly what he’d imagined, especially after getting to know her a little and, admittedly, scrolling through her social media more than once.
Elvira looked up from her screen and grinned like she’d been waiting for this moment her whole life.
“Finally! It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Ilias.
I’m a huge fan.” She shook his hand with both of hers.
“I’m Elvira, co-founder of Salacia. But in reality, the brain is Sofi.
” Then she took a breath. “When Sofi said you guys were an item, I almost didn’t believe it, but then I remembered seeing you two in the Athlete Zone, before the punch, and you looked so cute together. ”
She was rapid-fire energy, an unfiltered, affectionate hurricane.
“Elvira, let him breathe,” Sofia said.
“Sorry! But you two look hot. Like, sexy-hot.”
Sofia muttered something in Italian, blushing furiously. He actually liked that part of her. It showed every time there were compliments around. Ilias just laughed.
“Pleasure to meet you too,” he said warmly.
“We’re heading out to surf,” Sofia added. “I’ll be offline for a bit, but if you need anything about today’s tour just let me know.”
“Go, lovebirds. Enjoy. Don’t drown.” Elvira waved them off, giggling.
“Ah.” Sofia stopped in her tracks before moving to the door, “Jo?o doesn’t want the raise.”
Elvira sighed but nodded. “I expected that from him. I will add it to the paycheck anyway.”
Sofia nodded, thumb up, and as soon as they were out of sight, Sofia slipped out of his hold.
Small steps, Ilias. Don’t rush it. Don’t break it.
“Let’s grab your board and let’s go surfing,” he said, following her toward an olive-green Jeep, aged, a little beat up, but full of character. Like her.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go with mine?” she asked.
“Even though you are just a part Italian, your people have a really bad reputation of terrible drivers. I’d rather drive myself.” He chuckled.
“That’s not true. I drive amazingly well.”
“Well,” he said, grabbing her board from the back of the car, “it’s not today I’m going to test my luck, habiba.”
Sofia groaned, grabbed her things, and followed him to the car. He really needed her to stop making that sound, or maybe not. It went straight to his cock, and he’d sworn he was going to be a good guy. She was making that terribly hard. Pun absolutely intended.