003: The Deal

~Elena’s POV~

“I asked you a question.” David steps fully into the office, his eyes jumping between Mateo and me. “What are you doing here?”

My mouth opens but nothing comes out.

Mateo moves first, putting calculated distance between us. “Miss Vega had questions about dropping my course, so I was advising her to reconsider.” His voice is perfectly neutral and professional. “Is there something I can help you with, Mr…?”

“Chen. David Chen. I’m Elena’s boyfriend.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” I found my voice, shaking but firm. My heart is still racing, “And I’m handling my own schedule, David. You need to leave.”

“We need to talk…”

“No. We don’t.” I grab my bag, pushing past him into the hallway. “Stop following me.”

He holds my arm. “Following you? Elena, I came to speak with Professor Sandoval about auditing his seminar. I had no idea you’d be here.”

I pulled my arm off his hand. “Audit somewhere else.”

I don’t look back nor check if Mateo is watching. I just walk, faster, until I’m outside gasping for air that tastes like freedom and nothing like sex and mistakes.

The email arrives on Thursday morning.

FUNDING NOTIFICATION: Research Grant - DENIED

I read it three times to be sure and I call the department head.

“I’m sorry, Elena.” Dr. Morrison sounds genuinely sorry. “The committee felt your project lacked sufficient basic information. You can reapply next quarter.”

“Next quarter? Dr. Morrison, I need this funding now. My rent is due in two weeks, and I’ve already bought materials…”

“Perhaps you should have submitted a stronger application.”

The line goes dead.

I sit in my empty apartment, the studio I can afford only because of that grant,

What do I do now? I do the math.

Thesis materials: 800 euros.

Rent: 900 euros.

Bank account: 237 euros.

I’m fucked.

My phone rings. It’s an Unknown number calling.

We need to talk. My studio. Address attached. Come tonight. MS

A sane person would delete it, block him, but not me.

Instead, I’m standing outside an old building in El Raval at eight PM, the address leading me up three flights of stairs to a door marked only with a number.

I knock.

Mateo opens it immediately, like he was waiting. “Come in.”

The studio is large, brick walls, huge windows, artwork stacked everywhere.

In the center: a raised stool, spotlights, a stool.

“What is this?” My voice trembled, even to me.

He closes the door behind me. “An offer.”

“I’m not interested in…”

“Your grant was denied.” He leans against a work table covered in charcoal and brushes. “David Chen submitted a formal complaint to the funding committee, he claimed your research was compromised by personal issues, lack of focus and emotional instability following your breakup.”

The words hit like a slap. “He did what?”

“He sabotaged you Elena, professionally and completely.” Mateo crosses his arms. “But I can help.”

“Why would you help me?”

“Because I need something.” He points to the stool. “I’m publishing a paper on anatomical accuracy in figure drawing. I need a model, someone intelligent enough to understand the work, who can hold still for hours and that I can trust to be discreet.”

Understanding hits cold and sharp. “You want me to… pose nude?”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Four sessions 1,000 euros each.” He names the figure like he’s talking about something casual. “Cash enough to cover your rent and materials until you can reapply.”

Four thousand euros. My brain buzzed, my stomach twisting. Two months of breathing room.

“This is insane, you’re my professor…”

“In one elective class. Your degree is in physics. I have no influence over your actual program.” He moves closer, his expression unreadable. “This is art, Elena. Academic, professional, nothing more.”

“Professional.” I laugh. “Like Tuesday was professional?”

“Tuesday was a mistake but this is business.” His eyes hold mine. “I won’t touch you, you’ll pose while I draw, this is a clean transaction, we’ll keep it professional.”

“And if someone finds out?”

“They won’t. This studio isn’t connected to the university. No one knows I rent it.”

He brings out his phone, types something and shows me the screen. A contract, simply written. “Read it, take your time.”

I read the terms: Four sessions, three hours each. Full nudity required. Payment upon completion of each session. Confidentiality clause. No physical contact.

My hands shake. I don’t know what to say.

“I need an answer, Elena.”

I think about David’s stupid face, about Rebecca’s moans in my bed and the eviction notice I’ll get in two weeks if I don’t find money.

“When’s the first session?”

“Tomorrow night. Nine PM.”

I sign the contract on his phone before I can overthink it and change my mind.

“Good.” He saves the document, then focuses on me. “Strip, we start now.”

“What? No, you said tomorrow…”

“I said the first session is tomorrow. This is a test run, free” His voice lowered. “I need to see if you can actually do this.”

“I just signed your contract…”

“Then prove you can handle it.” He picks up a piece of charcoal, nods toward the stool. “Clothes off, Elena. Let’s see what I’m paying for, get to work.“​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​