Page 31 of Knot Your Sugar

The women's changing room is nicer than my apartment, with heated floors, individual changing cabins panelled in fragrant cedar, and showers stocked with products that smell like the inside of a flower shop. I select a simple black one-piece from the array of swimwear options (a surprisingly tasteful collection).

When I emerge in my plush robe and ridiculously soft slippers, James is already waiting in a small relaxation area, complete with a tiny, serene-looking golden Buddha and a selection of infused waters. His own robe is loosely tied, revealing a broad chest I hadn't noticed under his usual chef's jacket. My eyes, those absolute traitors, travel down to where the robe ends mid-thigh, showcasing legs muscular enough to suggest he does more than hauling flour sacks.

"See something you like?" he asks, his voice a low rumble, catching me in the act.

"Just making sure you're following proper spa etiquette," I reply, hoping the dim lighting hides my blush. "Wouldn't want you scaring off the other non-existent guests with improper robe-tying."

His eyes make their own assessment, lingering just long enough on where my robe crosses over my chest to make my skin warm. "You… clean up nice, Elena."

"So do you," I admit before I can stop myself. "I half expected you to keep your chef whites."

He laughs, a genuine sound that crinkles the corners of his eyes. "Nah. I want to keep those clean for going to bed."

The mental image of James in rumpled chef whites, hair tousled from sleep...No. Not a mental image I need right now.

Serena reappears, smooth and silent, saving me from my own imagination. "Your massage therapists are ready. We'll begin with individual deep tissue treatments, followed by your private mineral bath experience under the stars."

She leads us down another hallway, this one with subtle forest sounds of birdsong and rustling leaves playing through hidden speakers.

"You think this place is always so empty?" I whisper to James.

He shrugs. "Probably costs a small fortune just to breathe the air in here. Keeps the riff-raff out, I guess." He grins as his eyes do another quick, appreciative once-over of me as I clutch my robe tighter.

Serena stops in front of two adjacent doors and gestures smoothly. “Your massage therapists are waiting inside—one for each of you.” She smiles with quiet serenity.

James sighs, hands on hips. “So much for my fantasy of an intimate couple’s massage.” He glances at me, eyes twinkling. “Oh well. Try not to miss me too much.”

I mentally sigh in quiet relief. "I'll do my best to survive," I reply dryly, opening the door into a dimly lit room that smells of eucalyptus.

A woman with hands that look both strong and gentle stands next to a massage table that resembles a fluffy white cloud. "Good evening, I'm Maya," she says with a serene voice. "Please disrobe to your comfort level and lie face down on the table," she instructs, stepping out to give me privacy. "You may keep your swimsuit on or remove it."

I opt to keep it on, arranging myself on the heated table and sliding beneath the silky sheet. Maya returns with scented oils, and her hands immediately begin to work their magic. The stress and tension of the past few days start to melt away like butter on a hot griddle.

"You're carrying a lot of stress in your shoulders," she observes, working her thumbs into knots I didn't even know I had.

"I'm a baker," I explain, my voice already muffled and relaxed. "Lots of rolling, kneading, and lifting."

"Ah, yes, one of the challenge winners. Congratulations," she says, moving to my neck.

Oh. My. God. This isdivine. The warm oil… the perfect pressure… I let out a sigh that's pure bliss.

As my body fully surrenders to the expert ministration, my mind drifts to a peaceful place. The double dose of DuoBlocks I took this morning seems to be working. I'm stillvery muchaware of James as an attractive alpha, but not consumed by it. I feel more... balanced. In control enough to make rational decisions.

In this newfound calm, with Maya melting every ounce of tension from my shoulders, I'm starting to think…Ugh. That spot—yes, right there…Where was I..?

Ah, yes. I’m increasingly starting to think that James’s proposition might not be so ridiculous after all. Maybe even… strategic? Instead of fighting any impromptu reactions, maybe I could embrace them, on my own terms. It'd be a great way to unwind, to clear my head so I can stay focused. And if I’m in control and set boundaries, what's the harm? It's clear, time-limited, doesn't involve messy emotions, doesn't break any rules, and doesn't come with long-term expectations. It’s… practical.

Maya works her way down my spine, and a soft moan escapes my lips. This massage, it's a revelation… and it's also unraveling tensions I've been carrying since I started my apprenticeship.

I inhale deeply, sinking further into relaxation. For the first time in days, my body feels like my own again, not a battlefield of unexpected reactions and confusing desires.

By the time Maya reaches my feet, I'm floating in a haze of endorphins. Every worry, every fear, every ounce of stress is being kneaded out of me, leaving me in a sense of boneless relaxation.

My thoughts grow hazy, drifting like clouds. The competition… Dorian… James… Cole… medication… winning… It all swirls together in a warm, pleasant fog.

* * *

A gentle chime and Maya's soft voice coaxes me back from the depths of what was quite possibly the best nap of my entire adult life. "Ms. Avery? Your massage is complete."

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