Elliott stared out the window, his expression serious. The spacious, minimalist room had a particularly pleasant view of one of London's few green spaces, and on that sunny day, he could almost believe he was somewhere in the Mediterranean and not in the private room of a posh gym in central London. Elliott looked impatiently at his watch and turned toward the door. Waiting was simply not in Elliott Jay's plans. That was something other people did. He was used to having his orders obeyed immediately without having to wait... twenty minutes, according to his watch. Frustrated, he slumped into a chair, wishing he'd brought his laptop so he wouldn't waste time. But circumstances had forced him into that position. With iron discipline, he put those circumstances out of his mind and looked around at that place, so orderly, so clean, so impersonal. That was one of the reasons he'd joined the gym eighteen months ago. That, and it was a stone's throw from his penthouse in Kensington. Vigo was a gym that made no attempt to appear welcoming. There was no bar with velvet sofas where weary patrons could sip tea, nor sun loungers around the pool. No, it was all steel and chrome, with newspapers on narrow metal tables. There was an internet cafe for those who felt inclined to go online after a workout, and the weight machines were state-of-the-art. He didn't use them, though. Twice a week, he'd relax with a brutal game of squash and then swim for a while in the pool. At eight in the evening, when there weren't many people around. As in every aspect of his life, Elliott exercised with complete concentration. As a teenager, his rugby coach had advised him to turn professional, but being a professional athlete never seemed practical. His intellect could never have been restrained by something as physically demanding as sport. His mind demanded enormous mental challenges. As the youngest director of an investment bank in London, he not only met that challenge, he also earned phenomenal sums of money. And that meant that, at thirty-two, he could indulge in his own financial ventures, which often yielded huge financial rewards. The workload, which for most people would be unbearable, was energizing for Elliott. His schedule was designed with military precision. One meeting followed another, and his name was synonymous with success in the financial world. But he didn't work to earn money; he worked for the sake of it. Even during his off-duty hours, he always had something to do. At that very moment, he had a lot of things to do, and he didn't like wasting time at all. In fact, he needed to relax and remember that he was in unfamiliar territory: he was going to ask a favor. And he wasn't amused at all. But Melisa Lee had been recommended by the gym manager, a businesswoman Elliott greatly respected. Of course, she hadn't told him all the details, only that she needed someone who could take care of a slightly problematic, overweight client. Miss Lee seemed like the perfect person for the job. She was 24 years old, a nutritionist and physical therapist, and hadn't been at the gym long, so she'd likely have free time to see other clients. And even though Elliott needed her services, he couldn't resist looking at his watch when she finally entered the room. —I've been waiting for you for forty minutes, Miss Lee. Melissa stopped abruptly. "One of our clients wants to see you to talk about some work outside the gym," Samantha had said, interrupting a session of physical therapy that had just started. "Right now, if possible." Samantha hadn't told her anything else about the client, and Melissa decided to ignore the "right now, if possible." But when she saw him she was surprised.
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