Page 80 of The CEO Alpha’s Substitute Mate

“Your leg will be fine, but you’re not going to let this insignificant company walk all over you. They don’t know about your leg, so don’t try to justify it.”

“They might have a reason,” I say quickly. “I have to find out what it is. But even if I do, I won’t be able to dance for a very long time, so I don’t see the point. I need to find another job.”

“I’m giving you money every month. Why do you need a job?”

“We already had this conversation once.” My chin comes up, then I remember how that argument ended last time, so I look at the window instead. “It doesn’t matter. I just want to be alone for now.”

He doesn’t leave. Of course he doesn’t leave. He puts the phone away and stands in the middle of my room without saying anything, and when he speaks again, he’s dropped the argument completely.

“Why don’t you open your own studio?”

I turn my head. “What?”

“I can set you up with a business manager. You can set up your own studio space, open your own school if you want. The money is there.”

My mouth is already open to tell him no. Then it stays open because he’s right about all of it. I have all this money accumulating. I’ve always wanted to open my own dance studio, but back then, it seemed like an impossible dream. But using the money in my account…

Every time I look at that account, what I see is Luca at eighteen. It isn’t my money. My money was two thousand a month, and I knew every dollar of it, which shelf it came off, which bill it went to. This other thing belongs to Callum, and I’m only holding it, so I don’t get to spend it on myself.

“Only a fool gives up something that could build toward their wealth,” Callum remarks.

He’s read my face again. I really do have to work on that.

“I’ll think about it.”

He studies me without answering, and then he puts his hands in his pockets. However, even with not saying anything further, I just know that if I were to say the word, he would set it all up for me. Sometimes it feels like he wants me to lean on him. But as somebody who’s never had anyone to lean on, I don’t know how to even start.

❦ ❦ ❦

Zara arrives at seven with a canvas tote over her shoulder and a laptop under her arm, then hugs me hard enough that the leg makes me hiss. She takes one look at the dressing, so I get in first with a story about the back stairs and a lot of blood on a lot of marble. There’s a wince in all the right places, but no second question, and I can’t tell whether that’s because she believes me or because she’s decided not to.

“So he said open your own studio.” She’s on the end of my bed with her shoes off, already scrolling. “That’s not a bad idea. I can hook you up with some real estate agents, in a good part of town.”

“I still don’t understand why they fired me, though.”

“You can go and ask them.”

“I did drop them an email.” There’s a loose thread on the blanket, and I pick at it. “I haven’t heard back.”

She types something, then turns the screen toward me, and there’s a converted printing company on the north side with eighteen-foot ceilings over a floor somebody has already sanded. “You really think I should open a school?” I look at it longer than I want to. “But I can’t even dance right now.”

“Sometimes it’s all about maintaining that link to your industry.” She’s tapping through photographs. “You might not be able to dance, but you’re a very good teacher. Your previous students will flock to you. I can help you with marketing and everything. We could go into business together if you want.”

“You have a job.”

“I’ve had that job for nine years, and a man called Terrence takes credit for my decks.” She glances up. “Ask me how attached I am.”

The more she talks, the less I look for the catch, until the building on that screen has walls in my head. There would be barres along the long side, plus a sprung floor if I can find one secondhand, because concrete under linoleum ends careers.

“Okay, let’s do this.” My heart is going too fast for a woman who can’t stand up. “I’ll have to draft a business plan and everything, but let’s look at buildings.”

Fuck it. If that’s my money, I shouldn’t let it sit there gathering dust.

She reaches into the tote and comes out with a bottle of wine, along with two glasses she has clearly stolen from the kitchen downstairs. A corkscrew follows them.

“I told you no alcohol.”

“You told me that in the afternoon, when you were a different woman.” She’s already pouring. “Here’s to us going into business together.”