Page 22 of My Grumpy Billionaire Soccer Star

My mind is clearer after the shower, and I find myself questioning myself.

“This is crazy,” I mutter to myself as I let cold water run over the rice in the strainer. I had just had sex with my boss. On top of that, the event leading up to that point, in hindsight, feels surreal as well.

I’ve gotten so mad and bold in his office, even going as far as calling him a son of a bitch.

This is crazy.

How the hell did I manage to pull that off? Vaughn is someone I’ve always been wary of despite my attraction to him, someone whose tantrums and nagging I’ve always tried to avoid. I would even go further and say that I’ve gotten a little bit scared of him from all the constant fear of not wanting to step on his toes but always managing to do so all the damn time! Sooner or later, I’mgoing to get tired of stepping on the toes he always puts in my way and blaming me for it.

Has he found my rebellion appealing?

I don’t think so. That’s hardly the case. He kissed me to shut me up and get me to listen to what he had to say, even though that one act morphed into something else. I’d like to believe that he realized he had gone too far with those mean remarks, and he kissed me to shut me up and get me to calm down. I’m sure if it were a guy who had flipped their lid in that manner, he would have been greeted with a punch to the face.

But why couldn’t I stop him?

I feel it goes beyond the physical thrill that had come with the kiss; it was a release and outlet for anger and frustration that had built up over the years.

Meow.

Archie gently paws my legs, snapping me out of my reverie.

“I’m sorry, baby. You’ll have to do milk again tonight. I promise I will get you your food tomorrow.”

I pull out the milk can from the top counter and am about to pour some into his feeder when I realize I haven’t washed it earlier.

I groan in frustration and quickly scrub it out before pouring some of the milk into the feeder. Archie licks it, but this time, with less enthusiasm than he did in the morning, and that is my warning that I might wake up missing an eye if I don’t get Archie some cat food the next day. What a strange and unusual cat I have! Isn’t it strange that the last thing a cat wants is milk, a food a stray cat would sacrifice its kittens to have?

“You’ve got to learn to be more grateful,” I say to Archie, rubbing his fur.

The rice finally comes to boil, and I turn off the heat. I’m about to turn off the heat when my phone rings loudly from my bedroom, managing to startle me despite the distance.

I just want to be left alone for the rest of the day, but I still drag my feet to my bedroom only to see that it is my mother calling.

There’s no way in hell I am picking that call!I yell inwardly.

Why is she calling me anyway? To tell me that she’s consummated her marriage and is pregnant? Knowing the kind of woman my mother is, I can swear that’s something she could definitely do. She calls me for even the slightest, most insignificant reasons. I know she’s only doing so in an attempt to reconnect with me. Still, that ship sailed a long time ago when she decided to leave my father, who was struggling with heart issues at the time, to go be with another man.

Worse, she wasn’t present at the funeral despite living only a couple of miles away from our house. I called and left a message, telling her that I needed her, only to see a condolence letter addressed to me in the mailbox a week later from my own mother! Even a stranger would likely call than leave me a letter in the mailbox.

I ignore the call like I would a leaf blowing down the street and head back to the kitchen to serve myself some food.

Archie is halfway done with his bowl of milk when I get back, and I feel a wave of relief washing over me. I think he opts to go to sleep hungry instead.

I serve myself some food and pour some orange juice. I go to my bedroom, ready to settle into a simple dinner before bed. As I dig in, I begin to savor the food, finally managing to distract myself from my thoughts—if only for a moment. But just as I start to relax, my phone rings again.

Oh, for God’s sake!

Annoyance creeps under my skin, but then annoyance turns into shock when I see the number of the rival company’s manager. My spoon makes a clattering sound on my plate as I drop it in frustration.

There’s no way in hell I am picking that either.

But as I stare at the ringing phone in defiance, a sinking feeling finds its way into my chest. I had gone to meet Vaughn when I received a call from this same number. I had gone to apologize for my mistake and discuss how to fix it, only to end up making an even bigger mistake—without ever addressing the first one!

I think about the moment we shared and how good it felt at the time. A flicker of embarrassment ignites within me as memories of how I acted wild and let my animalistic desires take over my sanity. Even as I stormed out of his study, I had left a piece of my sanity there as I felt myself wanting more of him all through the drive back home.

A moist spot appears on my bed sheet, and that is when I realize that I have begun shedding a few tears.

My lips spread into a smile as I find the whole situation funny as much as it is emotional. Why am I getting so emotional over this?

---