Billionaire Encounter: The Trainer Read online

  Billionaire Encounter

  The Trainer

  Copyright © 2015 by Linnea May

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

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  CHAPTER 1

  I have never won anything in my life before. Never. It is almost cynical to me that the first time I do win something, it has to be this.

  "Aaand, three months of private sessions with the infamous Derek Cartwright go tooo...!"

  Our boss, Mr. Cooper, stands in the middle of our gathering, his cheeks blushed from a few glasses of champagne. He is holding up a little piece of paper he just drew from a raffle. All eyes are glued on him.

  Well, almost all.

  I am one of the few people who do not stare at him with anticipation. Instead, I am using the few moments of his overly dramatic presentation and drawing of the raffle winner to stock up on mini quiches at the buffet.

  Our agency has used this caterer before and the mini quiches have always been a hit. It's no surprise that they have been crowded for the entire time since our Christmas party started. There has been no chance for me so far to get a little taste of them.

  Until now.

  Now that everyone is watching Mr. Cooper and hoping to be one of the raffle's winners, I finally get a chance to help myself with some mini quiches. Just as expected, they are already half empty at this point. My favorites - the ham quiches - are gone completely.

  I provide myself with what is left, mostly vegetarian quiches and two little meatballs to make up for it. Everybody had been lining up at the buffet the entire time and I didn't have a chance to get anything but a glass of champagne because I showed up late and didn't hurry to the food right away.

  That's what you get for being too involved and too diligent when it comes to your job, I guess.

  Just like every morning, I had a very light breakfast early on. And just like every morning lately, I had been crammed with work and stressed to the limit. I wanted to get as much as possible done before midday. It's the end of the year and many deadlines have been set for the upcoming week.

  There was no time to eat anything. No time to snack. There is nothing in me except for coffee and champagne.

  I am starving.

  This series of unfortunate circumstances leads to me stuffing my face just in that very moment when Mr. Cooper yells my name, announcing me as the winner of the raffle.

  Heads are turning to me as I stand there, allegedly shielded and secluded from everyone else while I indulge on the heavenly mini quiches that I have been craving for so long. Thinking that no one was paying attention to me, I had just stuffed an entire quiche into my mouth to ease the most painful hunger.

  People are staring at me as I stand there, my eyes as wide as my cheeks are full. There is a moment of silence while some eyes are still searching for me. I can see Mr. Cooper stretching himself behind a row of people in front of me, in search of the lucky winner.

  "Ah, there she is!" he announces.

  And then the entire workforce bursts out in a hearty, alcohol induced laughter.

  I start chewing frantically, trying to chop up the food as soon as possible so I can join their amusement. I wouldn't be me if I wasn't able to laugh at this scene myself.

  I smile and nod, still chewing, as cheers and laughter are thrown in my direction.

  "It seems like Ava is already preparing herself for the challenge!" Mr. Cooper jokes. "Good idea! You'll need the energy!"

  I finally get the quiche down and raise my hands in defense. Yeah, yeah, I know.

  I swallow hard and put my plate with the remaining food aside before I approach Mr. Cooper in the middle of the room to accept the symbolic coupon for my reward.

  "Merry Christmas, Ava," he says as he hands it over to me. People start applauding, some of them still giggling. "What a way to start into the new year! Three months of hard work lie ahead of you. But with the best help you could think of!"

  I don't exactly share Mr. Cooper's enthusiasm, but nod and smile. "Thank you, thank you."

  Because I don't know what else to do, I just stare down at the coupon in my hands. There is an empty smile on my face as I mingle back into the crowd. I try to look happy and grateful, when all I really feel is confusion and a certain indifference.

  I never cared for this prize, the jackpot of our office raffle. In fact, I could have gotten better use of the movie voucher that one of my coworkers won earlier.

  For a moment, I even consider asking her if she'd be interested in exchanging prizes.

  That thought is quickly erased when she and another woman from our office approach me after I have picked up my plate with the half-eaten food from earlier.

  They place themselves next to me, both of them towering over my short frame with their gazelle-like statures. Their physical features are a common sight at this workplace - tall, slim, with bright, shiny eyes smothered in mascara and wavy long hair. One of them - Sandy - a light blonde, the other - Lisa - a brunette like me.

  Well, like me in fancy and pretty.

  The smug smiles that grace their faces don't promise nice words of congrats. If anything, I perceive envy and cynical nastiness - an impression that comes quite close to their intentions.

  "Aren't you a lucky one," Lisa says. She is the one who won the movie voucher, which she is now waving in front of me. "All I got is this package of free movie tickets with popcorn and all - and you get the private sessions with Derek."

  I cast her a forced smile. I have never liked this woman. God knows why I ever thought about exchanging prizes with her. Even if I feel I would enjoy the movie voucher a lot more than these silly fitness sessions, I would never do it now that she reminds me how much I dislike her.

  "Kinda funny, isn't it?" Sandy adds.

  "Funny?" I clarify.

  "That you are the one who wins the workout sessions," Lisa explains while scanning me from head to toe. "I mean..."

  "At least it goes to someone who could actually use it," Sandy interjects, smiling at me as if she were giving me a compliment.

  Lisa adds a stupid giggle. "I guess so! I mean, stuffing your face at the movies wouldn't be something too exciting or new for you, would it?"

  What a bitch!

  Just as I open my mouth to give them a witty reply, one of our newest senior copywriters, Ann, appears seemingly out of nowhere between the two.

  "Seems like I am not the only one who is jealous of your amazing prize," she beams. "You're one lucky girl! Right, ladies?"

  She glances at Sandy and Lisa, and something in the way she behaves around those two tells me that she shares my feelings about them - and that she is aware of what had just happened a few moments before.

  Lisa and Sandy exchange a quick look. Neither of them appears to be sure about Ann's intentions. Is she their ally or their fiend?

  "Yes, I suppose so," Lisa says eventually. "We were just saying how lucky it is that the jackpot goes to someone who can actually get some good use out of it."

  There is nothing hostile about the way she says it, but her eyes speak volumes. Sandy nods approvingly, while Ann just shrugs.

  "What do you mean?" she asks innocently.

  Lisa and Sandy look at each other, then at me, and back to Ann, dumbfounded by her lack of understanding. They were hopi
ng for an ally, but Ann does not seem to realize the obvious. She doesn't see the curves that grace my short body, and she doesn't see how much work that stumpy figure of mine needs.

  I know Ann well enough to see that she is very aware of what is going on. We have never spoken much except for professional small talk, but I have always liked and respected her. Unlike these two hens, she is not into gossip and I have never heard her say anything mean about anyone. She is refreshingly indifferent to this kind of pastime.

  "Well, I mean..." Sandy utters as she demonstratively scans me from head to toe again.

  "I know what you mean," Ann says, and for a moment, both Sandy's and Lisa's faces beam with relief - before Ann continues to speak. "And I am appalled at your behavior. You should know that nastiness doesn't come a long way. Especially here."

  Oh, no she didn't!

  Even I have to suppress a gasp in shock as I remember that Ann has recently become the superior to these two. She was promoted to senior copywriter just a few weeks ago, and if she is unhappy with their attitude, they might have to face more trouble than just a little lecture.

  Sandy and Lisa understand. They don't refrain from casting me one last frown before they hurry to disappear.

  I look up at Ann, whose eyes are following the two as they leave.

  "Thank you," I say. "But you didn't have to rescue me-"

  "Oh, I didn't come here to rescue you," Ann interjects. "I just wanted to congratulate you, because I truly envy you for that prize! I just happened to witness those girls by accident."

  She pauses and looks back over her shoulder for a second before she continues.

  "Ignore them," she says. "They must have very little in life to be so nasty all the time."

  "Probably," I agree.

  "But I was going to tell you," Ann adds. "I have met Derek before - and he is amazing! Very strict, but his regime works and it's actually fun when you really get into it. I mean, you are planning on using the coupon, right?"

  I nod. "Yeah, sure. Why not. I've never worked with a personal trainer before."

  It's true, I never have and I never even thought about it. I have a gym membership and there are phases in my life when I actually go there on a regular basis. Unlike what Sandy and Lisa might think, I am actually quite fit and I love lifting from time to time. Testing my limits, enjoying the pain that a truly hard workout brings with it. I can see why it becomes something like a drug to some people, because I tend to overdo it - and then I get hurt or so sore that I am unable to move for days and weeks and I stop for a while until I become restless again and the whole process repeats.

  Maybe this Derek guy could teach me how to do things more moderately and on a regular basis instead of this weird kind of binge-training that I have been into.

  Occasional binge-training and occasional binge-eating. Somehow, everything has to be an extreme with me. In all aspects of life.

  "Well, he really is good," Ann interrupts my stream of thought. "Maybe it's because he's just doing personal training for fun nowadays."

  "What do you mean?" I ask.

  "Oh, he doesn't have to work for money," she explains. "The brand he created years ago took off so well that it made him stupidly rich. I think even he himself was surprised at the giant success it had. It's surreal. However, he never wanted to stop working, but he became very particular in regard to his clients. They are hand-picked."

  I swallow hard.

  "What about this coupon?" I want to know. "Why is he doing this?"

  "Some charity thing," Ann says, shrugging. "And I think he still owes Mr. Cooper a favor. Don't worry, I'm sure he's excited to work with you."

  I raise my eyebrows. "We'll see..."

  "Yes, you'll see," Ann concludes. "Working with him could change your life!"

  She doesn't know it, but Ann is absolutely right about that last part.

  CHAPTER 2

  I want to redeem my coupon as soon as possible and schedule my first appointment with the acclaimed Derek Cartwright.

  Before that whole raffle thing was going on and people around the agency were talking about him, the jackpot prize, I had never heard of this man before.

  After Ann sang yet another praise of him, I became curious. Apparently, he is a friend of our boss, Mr. Cooper, who has worked with him in the past. He is in his early thirties and - judging by the pictures I found on the internet - incredibly handsome and buff. The latter should not surprise, given his occupation, but this man is far more than in good shape. He looks like a perfectly defined bronze sculpture.

  There was one topless picture in particular that left me gasping for air. What a hunk of a man! Broad shoulders, buff arms and a six pack that seems unreal.

  Piercing steel blue eyes, dishwater blond hair with a few lighter streaks here and there and a light tan. His jaw is strong, framing a seductive smile that is directed at the camera.

  Damn!

  I wonder if they used a lot of Photoshop on that one. It is a promotional poster for the gym he works at - or used to work at. He has officially retired from the personal training business and is only taking clients on special demand.

  Or when they win his service at a workplace raffle, I guess.

  I am surprised to be talking to him when I dial the number that was printed on my coupon. For some reason, I thought that he would have an assistant who takes care of such mundane things as scheduling.

  His voice is deep and calm, but his tone gains a lighter and friendly note after I introduce myself and tell him the reason for my call.

  "Great to hear from you," he says, and it sounds sincere. "When do you want to start? Right after the holidays?"

  "If that's better for you..."

  "You can come in earlier, too," he says. "I still have a lot of room before Christmas. People usually get busy with other things right before the holidays."

  "And you don't?" I ask, only realizing how nosy and inappropriate this question could come across.

  "Never," he says. "I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't love it."

  I nod, remembering what Ann told me about him. Still, I am not exactly a "hand-picked" client. I wonder if he expects me to look like my Barbie doll coworkers. What a huge disappointment that would turn out to be...

  "Well, if it's okay with you, I'd like to start before Christmas," I say.

  "Sure. How is this upcoming Wednesday for you?" he asks. "Early evening. Or do you prefer weekends? That would work for me, too."

  "Uh, no, Wednesday is great," I say.

  "Good. Six p.m.? Or is that too early?"

  I hesitate for a moment. Six could indeed be a little bit of a rush, but I also don't want to be a burden on him. I already feel sort of guilty for stealing this man's time when I am sure he has better things to do with his life than this charity favor.

  "No, six will work..." I mumble.

  "Let's say seven then. Just to be sure."

  I raise my eyebrows in surprise. "Okay."

  "Just come by the gym and let the ladies at reception know that you have an appointment with me," he adds. "Bring your workout clothes - and a lot of strength."

  I giggle like a little girl. "Aye, aye, Sir."

  I have no idea why I said that last part. It just felt natural as a reply to his bossy tone. I blush and hurry to bid my goodbye

  "Looking forward to see you," he says and hangs up.

  I could have sworn that there was a little smirk accompanying his farewell.

  Well, this is off to a good start.

  CHAPTER 3

  I take a deep breath before I enter the gym facilities. This place is much bigger and a lot more fancy and expensive than the gym in my neighborhood. I wonder if they will try to persuade me to become a member after I am done with the private sessions. Maybe that's the whole aim of this?

  I cast the thought aside and approach the reception. A tiny blond beauty sits behind the counter and looks up at me with an expectant smile.

  "Ava Claire," I introduce myself. "
I have an appointment with Mr. Cartwright."

  Her eyebrows rise in understanding.

  "Oh, yes, sure," she beams. "Please have a seat, he'll be right with you."

  She points over to a little seating area and I follow her gesture and sit down on one of the lounge chairs, placing my sports bag next to my feet.

  Just a few moments after I have taken my seat, he emerges from around the corner. I recognize him immediately. His hair is a bit longer than it was in the pictures I saw, but other than that, he is just the same broad, buff guy that flexed his perfect muscles on my screen. That topless picture...

  I blush at the thought of it. When his piercing blue eyes catch me, I am sure that he can tell. As if it was written on my forehead.

  I stalked you. I looked at half naked picture of you on the internet. I drooled over that deliciously perfect upper body of yours...

  "Hey there, Ava, I assume?" he says as he approaches me, reaching his hand out to greet me. "I'm Derek."

  I jump up from my seat and take his hand. His hand shake is tight and warm - and strangely familiar. It's lacking that uncomfortable sting a stranger's hand would usually send through my body.

  "Yes, hi," I utter, slightly confused.

  Like most men, he is a lot taller than me, even though he is only average height in general. But he appears so much bigger and intimidating due to his well-built body.

  God, he is sexy.

  His smile is disarming. Somehow, it doesn't match with his build. He looks so... nice.

  "Very good to meet you," he continues. "Are you ready? I am excited to work with you!"

  "Why?" I blurt out.

  He laughs. "Why not? Don't tell me you aren't!"

  "Uh..."

  I must look pretty confused and helpless because he puts his hand on my shoulder as if he was trying to calm me down.

  "It's okay, you have nothing to worry about. We'll start slowly," he assures me. "My enthusiasm comes with the job."

  I cast him a smile. "I can see why it would be helpful."

  "Right?"

  He grins at me. "Okay. Let me show you where the changing rooms are and we'll discuss everything once you've changed into your workout gear."