Chapter 42
ILIAS
Ateo – C.Tangana, NATHY PELUSO
Lowers was supposed to be better than Main Break.
There was a bigger swell coming in the next few days, and Ilias was stoked to show off.
Losing at Margaret still burned, but he hoped it would fuel him.
He had something to prove. Plus, with the new Azul identity coming their way, they needed money.
And the more he won, the more money came in.
As he paddled back to shore after catching a clean final wave, Amira rushed up, phone in hand. Her face was tight with urgency.
“What is it?” he asked, peeling off the top of his wetsuit.
“Ghita wants to talk. It’s important.”
“Can’t it wait? I just got out of the water.”
“IT’S FUCKING IMPORTANT!” Ghita’s voice screamed through the speaker.
He rolled his eyes and motioned for Amira to follow him to a quieter spot behind the Athlete Zone, away from other surfers and prying journalists.
Even though Darjia wasn’t a common language in the surfing community, he really didn’t like people to know everything about his life.
They already knew way too much about his private life and Sofia.
“What’s going on?” he asked, brushing hair from his face.
“I started talking to local vendors and hosts about the surf retreat. You know…accommodations, partnerships, community organizations…” Ghita was breathless, like she'd been pacing. “And I heard there's a big international business trying to buy a hotel in Imsoaune. They want to turn it into some fancy luxury resort, right in front of the beach. It’ll ruin everything. It’ll destroy the charm, the coastline.”
“We should have expected it,” Amira muttered, arms crossed. “Morocco’s becoming the new Bali. Europeans with money will squeeze everything out of it just like they did to Spain.”
“Do you know who’s behind it?” Ilias asked.
“Not yet. No official names. But I’ve asked around. Someone will get back to me.”
Ilias could see the strain on Ghita’s face through the screen, tight shoulders, red-rimmed eyes, the frustration simmering under every word.
“Ghita,” he said softly, “don’t panic, okay? We’ll figure it out. And if it doesn’t work—”
“Don’t say it,” she interrupted, tears spilling freely now. “Don’t say we can close Azul. Please.”
He and Amira exchanged a look.
“I’ve put everything I have into this,” Ghita continued, voice cracking.
“Not just work. My heart. I thought, maybe one day, you’d both be proud of what I’ve built.
Maybe you'd visit more than once a year. Maybe we’d be something more than texts and missed calls.
Maybe I wouldn’t be alone now that not even auntie comes to visit anymore. ”
Ah. That was it. That was the truth beneath her fire. She missed them. Ilias swallowed thickly. Guilt gnawed at his chest, and a little bit of rage towards his mother. Ghita loved her as much as she loved his father, and when she had lost him, she had lost her too.
“If Azul closes,” Amira offered, trying to smile, “you could join us on tour. I need someone better to train with than Ilias anyway.”
He glared. She shrugged.
“I don’t miss you,” Ghita huffed, wiping her eyes.
“You miss us like crazy,” Ilias said gently.
“Okay, maybe a little.” She sniffled. “But I don’t want to close Azul. It’s our legacy. It’s Uncle. It’s home.”
Their father had meant more to Ghita than he ever had to them. And somehow, Ilias couldn’t be mad about it. She had loved him even when Ilias couldn’t. Maybe especially then.
“Alright,” Ilias nodded. “Find out who the buyers are. Once we know that, I’ll take it from there. Promise.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
When the call ended, Amira murmured beside him, “We can’t keep Azul going just for her. If this international investor is truly about to build a resort in front of the beach, we are fucked. Azul is fucked.”
“I know,” he replied. “But maybe we can stop this, or convince her to come with us if we lose this battle.”
“She won’t. She loves Imsouane too much.”
“I’m going back to the house. I need to relax,” he said with a tired sigh. “See you tonight.”
As soon as he reached his room, Ilias collapsed on the bed, still wet-haired, sun-touched, scrolling through his phone until he landed on the mirror selfie Sofia had sent him earlier.
Her skin glowing bathed in the golden hour coming in from the window in that sinful chocolate sundress, bare shoulders, that mouthwatering curve of her hips.
His very inappropriate thoughts were interrupted by the very reason he was thinking about that night in Sydney and all those nights and mornings in Margaret River.
He would forever be thankful to Australia, and to Jamie too, to have forced them together.
Alejandra had said something about forced proximity works wonders, and even though he didn’t understand what she truly meant, she had been right.
I just got home.
Isn’t it 3am there?
Yes
They were actually fun
We kept chatting about science and research
One of them builds marine robotics
They're digging into Neptune
Think Thomas is about to have a bad year
Is he corrupt?
Wouldn’t surprise me
Did you see the selfie?
I’m still staring at it
I want to carve it into my memory
Better than me naked?
Nothing is better than you naked
I am right now
Why are you naked and I’m not there touching you?
What would you do if you were here?
Are we sexting, habiba?
Is it not your thing?
I’m already hard. Do you want to know what I’d do?
Yes. Please
Are you touching yourself?
Starting now.
He read that last one and let out a low groan, his hand already sliding down beneath his shorts.
He pressed the voice note button, not before making sure the door of his bedroom was closed, even though nobody was home.
The last thing he wanted was Amira, Coach or Gretchen seeing him coming in his pants.
“Habiba, if I were there, I’d tie your wrists to the bedpost. Blindfold you.
Lay you out completely naked for me. I’d trail kisses all over your body.
Bite your nipples until you gasp. Then I’d kiss my way down to your pussy, spread you open, and devour you.
My tongue would have you moaning in seconds.
I’d slide in that toy you like while I suck you until you beg to come.
But I’d stop. Make you wait. Until I’m inside you.
I’d fill you, fuck you slow, then hard, until you’re shaking.
Then I’d spill inside you, and again, all over those perfect tits.
” He paused. “What would you do to me, habiba?”
He was rock hard. Stroking himself as he pictured her tied, flushed, writhing. She took her time. He wanted to wait, but damn it, he was already close.
Then her voice note came. “Fuck. I just came so hard. I miss your mouth. Your hands. I want to suck your cock until you’re hitting the back of my throat.
Your fingers fisting my hair. I want to feel you come in my mouth, and then watch you spill all over my tits.
Then, I’ll beg you to take me on all fours, pushing from behind, claiming me, your hand around my throat as a necklace.
I want you so bad, Ilias. I can’t wait another three weeks. ”
He came instantly. Hard, fast, imagining her moaning his name in that dusky, trembling voice.
Breathing heavily, he texted back.
If we keep doing this, being far away from you could be more bearable
I like it. But now I really need sleep. Thanks for the bedtime story ??
Always here to tuck you in, habiba ???????
Ghita and the business could wait until tomorrow.
She deserved rest, not the weight of his endless, spiraling question: sell that fucking legacy, or let it keep bleeding him dry?
Because one thing was clear—if someone built a luxury resort on the coast, Azul wouldn’t be the only thing drowning.
Why would anyone come to Imsouane for authenticity and quiet when a resort was sucking the land and ocean dry right in front of them?
Finding out who was behind the project, convincing people not to sell their land or their businesses—no matter how much money they were offered—could be a start. But he knew how it worked: when money entered the game, choosing ethically became a luxury most people couldn’t afford.
When he checked his phone again, Ghita had sent him a message with a list of every business the developers had already approached. And fucking hell, if they all agreed, it wouldn’t just be Azul going under. Imsouane would be fucked. Completely.