student. “I wouldn’t hire Sharleen if I didn’t think she could do the job.”
“I don’t need a life coach.” He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t lash out, but there was no mistaking his anger. His forehead was creased, and his mouth was a firm, hard line. “I can run my own life, and I don’t need you, or anyone else, telling me what to do.”
Emilio aimed his gaze in her direction, but he seemed to look through her, not at her. He made her feel unimportant, and Sharleen didn’t like it one bit. But what am I supposed to do? Throw a hissy fit and demand he talk to me, not at me?
“It’s not my job to tell you what to do.” Her voice quavered with emotion, but Sharleen was determined to speak her mind. “My goal is to help you overcome your grief and rediscover your purpose in life. I’ll support you and hold you accountable, but I won’t boss you around or cram my opinion down your throat. I’m a life coach, Mr. Morretti, not a bully.”
Surprise showed on Emilio’s face. He gave her the once-over but didn’t speak. His eyes were weapons of mass destruction, dark and dreamy, but Sharleen didn’t wither under his piercing stare. Her heart thumped so loud her ears throbbed, and it was hard to think when he was looking at her like that. This is what I get for watching HBO last night, Sharleen thought, chastising herself. That erotic movie excited me, and now I can’t think of anything but kissing Emilio!
Sharleen cleared her mind and deleted every conflicting thought. She couldn’t afford to screw this up; her boss was counting on her. During her performance review, Mrs. Fontaine had given her an earful, and every day her searing rebuke played in Sharleen’s mind.
“As a senior life coach it’s your responsibility to help build the business, develop new strategies and create buzz on social media, and sadly you’re not carrying your weight...”
Three weeks after her review, Sharleen was still pissed. What does Mrs. Fontaine expect me to do? Hold celebrities at gunpoint and make them sign up for a free consultation?
“Let’s sit down and talk,” Antwan proposed, gesturing to the living room.
Emilio shook his head. “I can’t. It’s time for my morning workout.”
“All I need is fifteen minutes of your time.” Sharleen held up her clipboard and flashed her brightest smile. “Once you finish answering this brief questionnaire, I’ll be on my way.”
“I’m not interested.” Emilio gave her his back and addressed Antwan. “I’m going into my gym. Let yourself out, and please show Ms. Nichols to her car.”
Before Sharleen could say “It was nice meeting you,” Emilio Morretti was gone. Antwan strode into the living room, returned seconds later with his briefcase and hustled her back through the foyer. Without a word, he opened the front door, ushered her outside and closed it behind him.
“I’m sorry about that.” Antwan smiled apologetically. “Don’t take it personally. Today’s the second anniversary of his nephew’s death, and he’s angry at the world right now.”
Sharleen nodded. “That explains a lot.”
“You’ve worked wonders with some of my other high-profile clients, and I’m hoping you can do the same with Emilio,” he said, his eyes alight with interest. “There’s tons of money to be made at the World Series Racing, and time’s running out for Emilio’s big comeback.”
“He has to be ready and willing to change. I can’t force him.”
“You can’t treat Emilio like your other clients. He’s a special case.”
You can say that again! He’s tall, dark and handsome, and he sounds delicious, too!
“I know you normally do your sessions by phone, but I need you to be more hands-on with Emilio, more accessible.” Antwan took his sunglasses out of his back pocket and slipped them on. “Weekly phone calls and emails aren’t going to cut it either. It’s a bitch getting him on the phone, and these days he rarely uses his computer.”
“What do you expect me to do? Club him in the head with my Birkin bag and drag him down to my office?”
Antwan chuckled. “You’re as saucy and feisty as ever!”
“I’m serious. I’m a life coach. Not a fairy godmother. There’s only so much I can do.”
“You’re one of the most persuasive people I’ve ever met, and if you can’t convince Emilio to come out of retirement, no one can.”
“That’s not why I’m here. I’m here to help him fulfill his dreams.”
“All he’s ever wanted was to be a race-car driver. Losing his nephew shook him to the core, but I’m confident he can be a champion again.” Antwan continued his pitch full speed ahead. “Do your weekly sessions here at his estate and treat Emilio like a friend, not a client.”
His know-it-all tone irked her. “I can’t drive to Greensboro three days a week. I have other clients and obligations to fulfill—”
“What if I sweeten the deal?” He cocked his head and flashed a devilish grin. “If you convince Emilio to come out of retirement, I’ll give you a $10,000 bonus.”
Sharleen felt her eyes widen in surprise and her mouth fall open.
“Emilio and I are meeting at Halftime Bar on Friday night, and I want you to join us. Hanging out with him at his favorite pub will definitely help break the ice.”
“Antwan, I can’t,” she said, finding her voice. “I already have plans.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “With whom?”
“We’re having a retirement party for my uncle, and if I’m a no-show, my aunt Phyllis will beat me like I stole something!”
“Great sacrifices produce great rewards. Isn’t that your personal motto?”
Sharleen hit Antwan with a pointed look. He was twisting her words, but she didn’t have the time nor the patience to debate the issue with him. Her priority was her family, and she wasn’t going to let Antwan make her feel guilty for having a personal life. “Maybe next time.”
“Fine, suit yourself.” His tone carried a bitter edge, but he smiled and waved as he hopped into his SUV. “I’ll be in touch. Take care.”
Sharleen unlocked her car door and slid inside. Deep down, she wasn’t upset that Emilio had kicked her out of his estate; she was relieved. It just wasn’t meant to be, she decided, shrugging her shoulders. But all wasn’t lost. She had two more consultations lined up for that afternoon and several booked for later that week. Unlike Emilio, those clients were eager for professional help and desperate to change their lives. Encouraged, Sharleen turned on the engine, cranked up the radio and exited the tree-lined estate.
Pathways Center was in an attractive plaza filled with glitzy boutiques, cafés and beauty salons. It had several high-end stores, and as Sharleen left Samson’s Gym on Friday morning, she noticed the parking lot was packed.
