Forbidden - Karla Sorensen Page 0,49

new racks to match the new branding, and it was taking longer than I thought while I trained the new hires.

I shook my head. “It’s okay. Besides, you’ve got a new client coming at nine. All her paperwork is on your desk.”

“The soccer player?” he asked.

With a nod, I turned to grab another stack of shirts. They were just out of my reach, and he leaned down to push the stack closer to me. I smiled.

“How do you know her?” I asked.

“Same agent. Or my former agent, at least.”

I slid a neatly folded stack of shirts into the correct bin for their size. “You don’t need an agent anymore?”

Aiden shook his head. A lot of athletes, especially if they were high-profile enough, maintained a steady stream of endorsement income after retiring. He was watching me, eyes considering, like he somehow knew how hard this was for me. But he also didn’t share anything further.

I took a deep breath and glanced up at him. “You’d probably make easier money than what you’re doing here, if you still had one.”

Aiden’s mouth softened, but he didn’t smile.

He glanced at the gym, and I liked the way his eyes warmed when he looked at the space, the equipment. Like it was something more. “I probably would, Ward.”

When he disappeared into his office, I buried my face into the shirt and tried to calm the racing of my heart.

Normal twenty-five-year-old women could flirt and laugh and ask a handsome man questions without triggering an anxiety attack, but not me.

Not Isabel Ward, the girl who could handle anything in the entire world except those three things.

His new client came, and I did very well not fangirling when she introduced herself.

“Welcome to Hennessy’s,” I told her, handing her a membership card. “Aiden will meet you back by the treadmills in just a minute.”

As I approached his office, I shook the jitters out of my hands.

One day at a time. Even if he was only ever my boss, even if we never repeated what happened in the open space in the middle of the gym, this was how relationships of any kind were built.

Gently, I knocked on the open door.

“Come in,” he said.

Aiden was sitting in front of his monitor, and my throat went dry because he’d slid black-framed glasses over his face. Not once in my entire life had I found glasses appealing, but apparently, I had a new fetish.

Former fighter turned businessman was a whole mood, and I really, really liked it.

His eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Right.” I cleared my throat. “She’s here for her session.”

Aiden stood and tossed the glasses onto the desk. I stepped back so he could leave his office, but he paused in the doorway, his frame filling the space. His client stood over by the treadmill, stretching her legs, knee wrapped in a black brace. When she hurt it in the last World Cup, I almost cried.

“It’s a big deal,” I heard myself say.

He wasn’t a world-famous trainer. He wasn’t a loud social media presence or someone whose name was mentioned often anymore. But still, she was here to become stronger.

He didn’t ask what I meant. “It is.”

My gaze lingered on his profile. And when he turned, eyes locked on mine, I didn’t look away.

“That’s why,” he said quietly. “This isn’t easy money. But at this point in my life, I want to build something that matters.”

Then he walked away, and I was left wondering if I wasn’t completely making things worse by trying to understand him better.

He was in the middle of his session when the twins showed up, gym bags slung over their shoulders.

“I didn’t know you two were coming today,” I told them.

Lia hooked a thumb at Claire. “Her idea.”

I glanced at Claire. “It’s never your idea to work out.”

Claire held up her hands. “Not for that.”

My eyebrows rose. “For what then?”

Lia held up two fingers. “We wanted a glimpse at him because you’re still being awfully cagey, and two, Molly told us about your fight.”

“It wasn’t a fight, per se,” I hedged.

Claire set a hand on Lia’s arm. “We get it. And we’re not taking sides. I just wanted to check on you because we haven’t seen much of you lately.”

Standing from the stool, I joined them as they walked back toward the bags. “No taking sides, huh? You’re saying I’m the only one not thrilled at the prospect of seeing her.”

“If I thought she’d actually come, I’d probably need to medicate,” Lia said.

Claire smiled. “I could go either