Billion Dollar Revenge (The Lincoln Brothers #2)

11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Chelsea

Since finishing up at the recruitment agency, I’ve picked up extra shifts at the studio while I wait for the opening of my own. Tonight, I’m preparing for the last class of the day, setting up beds, Pilates balls, and rings. I’ve been working here casually for the last two years. I met the manager as a client because I would come every day when I first moved to New York. Taking care of my health always kept me grounded and stopped me from running to Connecticut out of fear of being alone. The energy of this studio allowed me to call this place home. It’s more dimly lit, with dark flooring, but it’s fantastic to work at regardless. Now, everything is ready to go. I open the door and grab my list of names. They’re all regulars.

I adjust the mic on my head and test it out. The music playlist is set. This class is advanced, which means everyone joining is familiar with Pilates. The clients start pouring in, and I chat with a few, asking how their day was. One of the clients is a co-worker of mine. We do this a lot. Train as a client to try out moves we could use in our own classes or just to get a good workout in, because after a full day of work, the last thing I feel like doing is my own class. I find that I don’t push myself as much.

I am about ready to begin, when Evan walks in, catching my attention, and all the air in the room gets sucked out. My eyes blink rapidly, as if I’m imagining things. I know I asked him to come, but I never in a million years thought he’d turn up. But he did. Standing in the doorway, he’s wearing workout clothes, along with a tight expression.

His muscular arms are on full display, the contours of his biceps rippling slightly under the studio lights. The black tank top clings to his torso, highlighting the defined lines of his chest and the faint outline of his abs. His training shorts hang just above the knee, loose enough for movement but fitted enough to reveal the muscles in his legs.

He’s so hot it makes me want to melt into a puddle.

He’s here.

He’s really here.

Does he realize how much this means to me? There’s no way Bobby would be caught dead here. And that’s when I realize, this is an advanced class. Shit. I’ll definitely have to modify his workout.

Evan’s jaw is set, brows drawn together, lips pressed firmly into a thin line, and his eyes—usually bright blue—are now intense, focused. The other students in the class have noticed him too, their conversations dropped to murmurs as they sneak glances in his direction.

His presence is commanding, the kind that has my body moving toward him, ignoring the buzz between us. He’s paused in the doorway, seeming like he’s ready to turn around and walk right out of here. His uneasiness is so different to the powerful and controlled Evan I’ve witnessed.

Standing directly in front of him, I move the mic away from my mouth. “Hi. I’m glad you came.”

“I wanted to support my girlfriend,” he marvels with wide-set eyes.

I smile as a blush creeps onto my skin. “Come on in, I’ll take care of you.”

His eyes drop over my body, and I know he hasn’t seen me in anything like this before. A sky-blue set of short shorts and a matching crop top. Yeah, there's nothing left to the imagination today. And because he’s in my space, I don’t feel self-conscious about it. The way he’s looking at me, I would say he’s not mad about my outfit either.

I point over to one of the few free beds. “Come over to this one.”

He drops his head and strides over to the bed, holding his wallet and drink bottle.

I go to the desk to grab him a towel and hand it to him. He frowns.

“Trust me, you’ll need it.” I thrust it toward him.

He takes the towel with a pinched expression and looks around the bed.

“Take a seat. I’ll start with a warm-up,” I whisper to him before moving the microphone back to my mouth and speaking into it. “Alright, class, please begin with a warm-up spring, extend your legs, and push the carriage out.”

I adjust Evan’s springs and get him to lie down. Seeing him on this carriage (Pilates bed) has my mind going places it shouldn’t go. All I can think about is straddling him. Naked.

What is wrong with me? I can’t remember the last time I felt this bothered over a guy. I’ve never had this problem with a client before. Shaking off those thoughts, I move to the other side of the room, helping other clients correct their form or push themselves.

After a few minutes of warm-up, I get their legs in the tabletop position and do some crunches with hands in straps.

Then, I wander back to Evan, his strong arms contracting during this exercise, and God the trickle of sweat glistening on his forehead nearly kills me. The fact he’s trying makes my heart swell.

I tell the class to do the side plank with rotation. Then I step over to Evan and tell him to just try a normal plank, but he follows the others in the class effortlessly. For someone who has never done Pilates before, he’s doing amazing.

I know he will be in pain tomorrow. Part of me wishes I was brave enough to offer him a private cool down.

We reach the end of class, and before I know it, I am on the last exercise.

I choose an exercise to test him.

“Alright, everyone, it’s time to feel the burn. Let’s go for those lean back bicep curls you love,” I call out, watching the class intently. Of course, he follows the advanced clients, refusing to give up.

As I pass by, I can’t help but notice the way his veins bulge on his arm, adding to my already flustered state. “Feeling strong today?” I tease, trying to keep my voice steady while adjusting the twisted strap. My hand brushes against his warm skin, sending a spark of electricity through me.

He grins, not missing a beat. “Always. Are you trying to make me quit?”

“Just making sure you’re getting your money’s worth,” I reply with a smirk, then move to the next person.

He chuckles. “Well, you’re doing a great job. I’ll need a nap after this.”

Glancing back at him, I raise an eyebrow. “A nap, huh?” My gaze slowly drops to those arms again and my tongue skims my bottom lip. “You look strong.”

“Strong, not Superman,” he retorts, a playful glint in his eye.

I laugh and shake my head. “Keep those curls going. You’ve got this.”

“Evil,” he mumbles but continues on.

It's time to cool down, and I drag it out a little longer than usual. I’m running over time, but I don’t care about the pay. I just want to soak in this moment for a few more minutes.

After the class ends, Evie helps me by starting to clean the beds. She looks at me and then at Evan. I bet she has a million questions running through her mind, which means she will definitely find a way to get me alone to quench her curiosity.

I say goodbye to my clients, and I can see Evie is still cleaning. She’s waving at me behind Evan’s back. He’s wiping his face with the towel.

I mouth a thank you to her.

Evan twists his water bottle and drinks half of it in one go.

“You know I was trying to give you easier options.”

With a quirked eyebrow, he screws the lid back on his bottle. “I was trying to fit in.”

I laugh. “You don’t have to.”

His blue eyes narrow in on me. “But I want to.”

“Why?” I ask in a soft voice.

I’m confused why a guy like Evan, who seems like he doesn’t care about other people’s opinions, would feel the need to fit in.

“I didn’t want to let my girlfriend down,” he says matter-of-factly.

I’m taken aback by the ease in which he shared that out loud.

“You didn’t have to, but don’t complain to me tomorrow when you’re in pain.”

“I’ll be fine.”

His cocky confidence has me grinning widely. “You say that now.”

Inside, I feel light and free, like my old bubbly self is coming back. For the first time in over a year, I can be myself without having to fit into someone else’s expectations.

He looks at his phone. “My brother’s calling, I better go.”

“Jeremy?” I ask.

“No, Oliver.”

I swallow. “Well, thanks again for coming.”

An expression has settled on his face that I can’t understand. “Thanks for having me last minute. You’re a great teacher.”

I snort, but it’s combined with a laugh. “It’s only Pilates. I’m not a CEO of a media company.”

“Two things. One, I was given the company, and two, you’re going to be a CEO soon, right? And I bet you could run Lincoln Media for me if I ever let you.”

My lips twist to the side. “That was three.”

The corner of his mouth quirks, making me giggle.

“I don’t want to hear you compare yourself to anyone. You stand out in the sea, Shell .”

He reaches out and strokes my cheek, leaning in to peck me briefly before turning and leaving. I stand there dumbstruck. Bobby never used a nickname on me—no “Chelse,” “baby,” “babe,” …nothing. Yet Evan just gave me a nickname no one else has ever used before, Shell .

I don’t get long to think about what that means because a whistle sounds loudly behind me.

I spin around to face an amused Evie. You’d never guess she’s in her mid-thirties with long black hair that is currently tied up in a messy pony, her bluish green top and matching color shorts complimenting her skin tone.

No point in denying I’m into him. Because I’d be lying. I’m more attracted now, if that is even possible.

This fake dating isn’t going to end well.

“He’s fine, Chelsea.”

“I know.” I bite the corner of my lip.

“How did you meet him?” She wiggles her eyebrows at me.

“His brother is dating my friend, and um, he’s also Bobby's CEO.”

She whistles again. “Bobby must be pissed.”

“Yep, and it’s about to get really interesting.”

“Why’s that?”

I blow out a breath. “Friday night, I’m going with Evan to their work party as his date.”

“Oh, to be a fly on that wall.”

I giggle. “Right. I’m nervous. I’ve only ever been with Bobby. I don’t even know how to react near a man like Evan. Bonus points for pissing off Bobby though.”

She rolls her eyes. “But he deserves it.”

He does.

“Don’t overthink it. You’re not replacing his shampoo with hair removal cream… Relax.”

Her words pull me back to the here and now.

“Have you done that before?”

She tries to stop a full-blown smile, but she fails. “Maybe.”

“Brutal.”

We laugh, which helps relieve the tension I had building from Evan being in my class tonight.

I clean up the rest of the studio and we discuss my new place.

“When do you get the keys?” Evie asks.

“Not until next month.” The purchase contract set a later date to allow the previous owner time to make repairs, and it gives me time to secure a building permit for the changes I want to make, like installing the lockers.

Her mouth turns downward. “I’ll miss you.”

“Are you going to take the Friday class I offered?” I know that Evie doesn’t have enough shifts here, and I would love to offer her a day at my studio. I’ve discussed it with the boss already. I just need Evie to accept it.

“You have just over three weeks to decide.” I don't want to be too pushy, but I need to get contracts and insurance all set up for each instructor.

“Can you show me the studio?”

I grin with new hope. “Sure. Maybe it will help persuade you.”

She giggles. “Maybe.”

After showing her some pictures, we leave the studio, locking up behind us, and then we walk a few miles to mine. As we pass a restaurant, my steps falter. A familiar face catches my eye through the window, and I stop in my tracks, my breath hitching.

Bobby.

“What are you doing?” Evie asks when she realizes I stopped walking.

My eyes are glued to Bobby because he’s not with Shyla; instead, he’s with a stunning red-haired woman. Another woman. I know that because as they sit opposite each other, they both lean in, smiling. Their hands on top of the white linen table, their fingers entangled as they chat.

What happened to Shyla?

And once again, he’s out and about. Not working late into the night here either.

Does this mean he’s cheating on Shyla, or is he just hooking up with a bunch of different girls?

“Who’s that?”

“Bobby.”

She has only heard about him because he only met my roommates or co-workers from recruiting. He never wanted to meet anyone from my Pilates job.

“Oh fuck. Your ex.”

I giggle at her reaction, but it’s strained. He’s not only moved on, but he’s on a date at the same bar we first met.

I don’t bother explaining the situation with Shyla. It would be a waste of my breath. Bobby will get to see me exactly how I am seeing him now. My stomach flutters from both nerves and excitement. This vision in front of me confirms how much he deserves it. I’ve never been the revenge type, but he’s a douchebag who deserves to feel the way he makes women feel.