Page 24 of My Grumpy Billionaire Soccer Star

Phew!

Preseason is in a week! It feels like a dream. It has been almost two months since the American Soccer League ended, with New York FC losing the final match to Pride FC of Beverly Hills, California. A forward from their team scored a moment-defining goal at the last minute after a goalless match for up tothe fortieth minute into the second half. The crowd erupted into a cacophony of high-pitched cheers and boos—sounds I only became aware of after I almost felt like crying.

No—I think I did cry and even wailed.

The image of that soccer ball doing cartwheels off the top-right corner of our goalpost is still etched vividly in my mind. Even as I think about it now, I can still feel a thousand sharp needles prick my heart. I couldn’t play because of the injury I had gotten from the quarter-finals, but it still would have been a challenge with me on the pitch.

Pride FC Beverly Hills has been the arch-rival of New York FC for as long as I can remember—a rivalry that goes far beyond the fact that these are the richest and most famous clubs in the country.

Both teams boast the best players from all over the world, even scouting talent from Brazil, the world capital of football. With the top players vying to prove their supremacy, it’s no surprise that the competition between these two clubs is fierce.

Add to that the insanely passionate and strong fan bases they’ve built over the years and the longstanding rumors that the club owners have been enemies forever, and you can imagine the intensity of this rivalry.

One thing I will never let repeat itself is Pride FC wiping the floor with our asses again. Come next season, we shall show them that “pride”indeed does come before a fall!

Speaking of pride, I should probably tone down and call my secretary, who I haven’t seen or talked to in three days. I still smell her lavender-scented perfume in the office, indicating that she still comes to work but has been avoiding me. It makes me want to flip my lid, storm into her office, and shout at her for not taking her job seriously, but it seems my injury hurts more when I even think of doing that.

Who am I kidding?It pains me to say this, but ever since our steamy sex in my study, I have been somewhat avoiding her as well.

“Guess what, Vaughn.”

It’s like a smiling face suddenly materializes above me. I don’t even hear his footsteps approaching me. I snap out of my thoughts to see Raphael’s smooth face hovering above me.

“What do you want? Shit, you scared me.”

“My apologies, then,” he says, not looking the least sorry as his silly grin stretches even wider. “You look stressed out. Is it the injury?” His concerned tone is in stark contrast with the silly grin on his face.

“Now, out with it, Raphael. Why do you look like you’ve just won the lottery?”

“Oh, how kind is Coach McLauren, really? While you were training, before taking your break, he was very impressed with the work we’re doing here.”

He points at the videographer and the rest of the camera crew who are videoing my training sessions. Since my injury, I have had my training sessions recorded to assess my performance as I heal for signs of progress, but what I walked into on the training ground this morning was nothing like the usual video sessions.

As soon as I saw a large camera mounted on tripods, I almost called Rachel out of panic to come shoo them away, even though it was an hour after dawn, thinking it was those freaking reporters until Raphael reassured me it was normal sessions.

“Oh, he was?” I say, my brow raised.

“Oh yes, he was. In fact, he says I could shoot the promotional video for the New York FC when they start training in a few weeks.”

He pauses, the stupid grin still on his face. He looks at the videographer, who has an embarrassed look on his face, then examines mine carefully, probably expecting some sort ofreaction. Why is he so happy about this, though? It’s just a promotional video.

He seems to have registered the blank look on my face when he says, “You don’t get it, do you?”

I shake my head.

By now, he’s stopped smiling. He dips his hands into his jacket and shrugs. “Well, it’s a steppingstone for me. I have always wanted to work with a renowned coach like McLauren.”

My gaze falls to the ground to hide a grunt. Sneaky bastard. He probably knew the coach would come by to visit and set up a whole VR studio to impress him.

I raise my head. “I see. You’re my manager, after all. I wouldn’t have hired you if you didn’t have what it takes.”

I reassure him with a smile, and without missing a beat, I add, “I am much better now, so why don’t you dial Rachel’s number for me? She could come to help edit and compile the videos we have collected all through those weeks.”

“That would be nice.”

He pulls out my phone, dials Rachel’s number, and hands it to me.

I mentally put on my tough shell as I hear the phone ring at the other end, and as soon as it connects, I speak firmly, “Come to the training field now, Rachel.”

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