Page 18 of My Grumpy Billionaire Soccer Star

He was pissed beyond words, and I could imagine the veins on his forehead bulging in frustration, and that’s putting it lightly. If he managed to scare me that much over a phone call, he would probably make me piss my pants off if I went anywhere near him.

So I am avoiding work—for now. But not after calling Carmen to tell Vaughn that I am sick because, of course, I can’t bring myself to tell him that, even though Carmen is unbearable. Of course, the Vaughn I know won’t buy that lie, and I am surprised he hasn’t called me yet to tell me to haul my ass over to work.

Even after two days.

Two whole days!

That’s hella suspicious, and it provokes a level of panic that I would have had if I didn’t think to avoid him. With Vaughn Graham, you can never tell what he’s planning. Is he waiting patiently to see how far I will go? Is he waiting to give me the ax upon resumption?

Two whole days.

For someone who wouldn’t hesitate to call me for help tying his shoelaces, that’s an accomplishment. But at the back of my mind, I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. It also doesn’t seem fair to avoid work when the mistake was mine to begin with.

I should call him and apologize. No, I have already done that. I should go to his home and apologize.

“Should I go to him and apologize?” I ask Archie, who is snuggled in the crook of my arms. His pupils narrow into a slit-like aperture as he gives me a blank look. I stand up from my bed and head to the kitchen to prepare some cat food.

I open the kitchen cupboard and pull the can containing Archie’s food. It is empty!

“Shit!” I mutter. The crunchy bits of the leftover cat food swirl, making sonorous sounds as I wave it in Archie’s face in regret.

“I’m sorry, honey. I had no idea.”

He hops down from my arms onto the tiled kitchen floor and turns to face me, and I think he is disappointed, the corner of his mouth drawn.

I retrieve a bottle of milk from the kitchen counter and pour it into his pan, and after a few sniffs and a little hesitation, he licks it.

“Thanks, honey, for understanding.” I pat him on the head.

The faint sound of my phone ringing drifts into the kitchen, and my chest heaves against my sleeveless tee.

Is it Vaughn?

My throat suddenly goes dry as I rush to my bedroom, where my phone lies on the bed. The name on the screen sends my heart racing, threatening to burst out of my ribcage.

“H-hello?” I stammer. It’s from the rival company with which I signed the contract on Vaughn’s behalf.

“Ms. Rachel, it’s been two days since we called you. But it seems Vaughn Graham had yet to turn up. In case what I said escaped your memory, let me repeat it: once you sign a contract, you are under a legal obligation to honor it. If we don’t hear from you in three days, wereallyare going to sue.”

“But I already told you guys that it was a mistake. Mistakes like this happen sometimes—”

The phone from the other end clicks dead before I can say anything else.

“No, wait!” I desperately say into the dead phone.

What an asshole!

I toss my phone angrily on the bed and watch it bounce as a sober thought hits me: this isn’t about Vaughn being mad at me anymore; this is about his career, his reputation.

I know I have to do something, but what exactly? Call Vaughn’s lawyer. That’s an option, but I will have to speak with Vaughn about it first.

Without thinking twice, I flip the doors of my wardrobe open and select a chambray shirt and Capri pants. My hair is a mess, but I can’t care less. I have to get to Vaughn, even though every muscle in my body doesn’t feel like it.

My hand swipes over the bedside table for my purse and keys. I check my purse to confirm that my credit card is still there because I plan to do some grocery shopping and get some cat food on the way. With a quick kiss on Archie’s head, I storm out of my apartment and into my car.

“It’s past 4 p.m., so Vaughn should be home by now, probably training,” I think, taking the road that leads to his Hudson Valley mansion instead of the office.

I replay the moment that led up to the contract debacle. It was a silly mistake, one that I hadn’t realized I had even made until they called. I had been granted power of attorney when it comes to signing some minor contracts, as long as they aren’t high profile.

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